St. Patrick's Day Parade

Well as fate would have it - God willing and the creek don't rise - once again I'll be marching up 5th Avenue in the sun this Thursday, March 17th. I feel it is such an honor to be a graduate of St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing (NY, NY) that when the opportunity is presented to me, I just can't say no. This has been a rather sad year for the graduates of St. Vincent's. As I'm sure a lot of you are aware, our major medical center (St. Vincent's Hospital and Medical Center, West 12th Street and 6th Ave., Greenwich Village, NY- went belly up due to fiscal mismanagement. It was a tragic event. We were the last Catholic Hospital in Manhattan. Maybe this is all the more reason we should be marching, i.e, to lend our support and show the world we ain't dead yet!.

Sharing a Little Sunshine

The photos above were taken at "Big Hickory", the private beach attached to The Hyatt Coconut Plantation in Bonita Springs. It was such a soothing, serene place. I think I could spend days there just lying there on the sand or walking in the surf or searching for the perfect seashell. It was wonderful to let the rest of the world slip away. I really packed up all my cares and woes and let them go for a full three weeks. I am a lucky girl, very blessed to have had this opportunity. Thank You God.

Unexpected Pleasures - A Writing Exercise

Mary Beth Buchner Essay # 3

Advanced Writing March 22, 2011

Unexpected Pleasures

Curiosity led me into The Fresh Market, home of elite, unblemished fruits and vegetables, prime meats of every description and aromatic, freshly baked breads, cakes and pastries. Being a frugal homemaker and a practical, basic-ingredients type of cook, this was not my usual food shopping venue. I viewed this experience as an adventure, a journey down a rabbit’s hole.

As I meandered dreamily through a section of neatly displayed fruits and vegetables, I purposely looked for the unfamiliar, something that would peak my curiosity. I picked up an item that looked foreign, more like a piece of garbage, but noticed that there were a bunch of these strange, dirty looking objects and that they cost $4.99 each. Approaching an eager-looking young man in an apron bearing the store’s name, I asked, what is this strange looking thing? Having been given a reprieve from his mundane task of unloading fruit crates and piling apples, his eyes lit up and he responded enthusiastically. A Professor of Vegetable Land, he appeared delighted to have the opportunity to share his vast expanse of vegetable knowledge with me. It’s called a celery root; yes, it certainly looks ugly; no, it’s not the bottom part of the celery stalks, but it is loaded with vitamins and adds exciting flavor to certain kinds of recipes. The idea of having something that was “loaded with vitamins”, cinched my decision. The celery root and I were a couple.

As I walked past some other familiar and not so familiar crops, my mind began to wander. Strangely the unusual, ugly vegetable I held in my hand led my mind and my thoughts to another time, another place. Could it really have happened in this same lifetime?

I see him again as I did that first time in the summer of 1967. He is working outside in the hot humid sun, a sun that is burning down on us like some sort of angry, fire-eating dragon. He is behind a chain-linked fence, which contains a sign that announces boldly, No Not Enter - Danger - Hard Hat Area. I should have paid attention to these words; I should have known to stay away! The buttons on his drab green, coarse work shirt are opened almost clear to his waist, exposing his hairy chest which by this time of the day is wet with a mixture of dirt and sweat. He sees me and walks over to the fence and we’re close enough now that I can pick up his musty, earthy smell-- a smell that is actually more intriguing than offensive. As we stand face-to-face at the chain links, I notice more about him. His abdomen is hard and bumpy -- the tightly packed muscle groups explicitly defined by a season of strenuous physical activity. His shoulders and upper arms are lumpy too, and one could easily observe that every fiber, every tissue is powerful and strong. His veins become more pronounced as he strains against the weight of the concrete blocks he starts to move out of his path in order to reach my side. His eyes sparkle intensely as he opens the gate and enters my side of the world. All this time I’m thinking, I don’t know this guy, he is totally foreign to me, not my type at all, he’s even a bit grotesque. Nonetheless, I’m somehow curious and intensely attracted. Although he is filthy and soiled from his long hours of heavy labor in the steaming, sweltering heat I find him a bit obscene yet strangely exciting and I’m drawn to him like a curious spectator at the scene of a car wreck. It might not be what you expect to see or what you think you want to see, yet somehow you can’t seem to turn away.

An Unusual Class Assignment

Connor is here with us again tonight but his temperature appears to have broken, Thank God. Last night his temp went to over 104 degrees and that scares me.
I had my Advanced Writing Course this evening at Siena College after missing 3 classes while we were enjoying the lovely weather in Florida. I have some catching up to do as I also promised to bring in a little presentation of our recent trip South. I took so many photos and I am adding descriptive words and music and burning it to a DVD. I have also challenged myself by attempting to use almost exclusively words that begin with the letter "S" . It is an interesting exercise even if it sounds a bit bizarre. For ex., Sexy Seniors with suntanned shoulders swayed sensuously to Sinatra's Sixties songs. (By the way, this really happened in Bonita Springs when we ate dinner outside under the stars).
Tonight as a part of our class we were told to go to one of three local supermarkets and pick out two pieces of fresh produce (vegetables or fruits) that appealed to us for any reason and then bring them back to class by 7:00 PM. Rather interesting field trip wouldn't you say? When we got back to class our instructor guided us in the evening's project by asking us to look at our selections and describe their characteristics with as much detail as possible.
I went to The Fresh Market, the Market where the elite and well-to-do Loudonville Ladies buy their fresh products. I don't usually shop there because it is a bit too rich for my blood. Initially I thought of buying something practical and useful as that is the way my mind typically works. Then I thought, hey, why not go crazy. Look for something way out of your comfort zone and go for it. And so I did. I picked out two items that I had never heard of or remember ever seeing before in my life. The first thing I picked out is something called a celery root. Man is that thing ugly. I took a picture of it so you could see what I am talking about. My second choice was something called a tomatilla (I think I got it right). That was not nearly as ugly and basically looked like a small green tomato with a dry, peel-able skin on it. But since I had never heard of either of these items before, I decided to learn something new. The young man in the produce department was very knowledgeable and most willing to help. When he told me that the celery root was loaded with vitamins and added a lot of flavor to certain recipes, I decided to give it a whirl. Not sure yet what I am going to do with it yet besides describe it, but boy did I come up with some descriptive words. A few bordered on the obscene. After class, when I brought "my new find" home and showed it to Bob and Diane, they had a few choice words of their own to add to my description.
Mary, the cooker of celery root

One Main Reason We Came Home

Connor is staying overnight with us because he has been ill with a fever and a runny nose. His Mom, our daughter, Diane, took off from work to be with him today and to take him to the Pediatrician. The Doctor thinks that it is a virus since he didn't uncover anything else while he was examining him. When the Doctors can find nothing else, the illness is typically labeled a virus. I hate when Connor is sick. We love this kid so much it is difficult to describe with mere words. I guess most parents and grandparents understand what I am talking about. So, as much as I talk about going south for months at a time, I doubt whether we could leave Connor for that long. The picture above was taken in our kitchen shortly after we returned from Florida. He is painting a picture for his "Art Show" which in 5 year old terms means that after he was done, he showed us his work and then gave one picture to his Mom, one picture to his Papa and one picture to me. We also spent time together painting all the seashells I bought back from Florida. A child brings so much joy, so much fun, so much meaning to life, even when he or she is unexpected.
Mary Beth

Crystal Creations

Later in the day, the light shown through and there were marvelous creations everywhere I looked.

An Ice Storm

Well, we had a humdinger of an Ice Storm last night. Trees bent under the weight of the ice and snow and many limbs cracked and broke off completely. The backyard is generally a mess. I ask myself quite seriously for once, Why in hell are we living in the great Northeast? Last night I was talking on the phone to a childhood friend, Richard, and he brought up an interesting point. If the pilgrims had landed on the West Coast (i.e., California), the East Coast would probably still be sparsely populated.
After spending the last three weeks in sunny Florida and, on the road heading there and back, I am feeling really fed up with this weather. I do feel lucky and blessed to have had that time in such beautiful weather (we had absolutely NO precipitation and for the most part full-sun and temperatures in the 70's and low 80's). For the first time in my life I genuinely understand the concept of the Snowbird. When I was younger, I didn't get why someone would pick up and leave their hometown for months at a time. Finally, fast approaching age 66, I get it. Life is too short to struggle with the elements when one can be reclining on the pure white sand, basking in the sun, sipping Margaritas. I observed that a lot of Seniors do it. Don't you miss your family in Rhode Island?, I asked one friendly couple, Dick and Clare, whom we met in Bonita Springs at a glorious outdoor singing and dancing in the street event. Dick, Irish Last Name (not surprising - the Irish love to sing and dance in the streets)shared a bit of his philosophy with me. I figure, this is our time, he told me without hesitating. Besides, the children and grandchildren come down to visit.
Sounds good to me. Or is the "good Catholic Girl" suppose to look for suffering?
Mary Beth