reflection

Adventure

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I may have mentioned this once or twice already, but my birthday is next Saturday; a mere six days away, and I will be 50. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it, but I’m approaching it positively. It’s a big milestone, and I don’t want to ignore it and regret that later. I skipped having a big thing for my fortieth becuase my daughter was turning 1 four weeks later, and I wanted her to have her special birthday.

Money is still tight, but I did actually ask for something for my birthday since it was a special one – a new model Kindle. That will be next week or sometime before Christmas since we’re trying to divide the paychecks for bills and Christmas gifts and holiday festivities.

My husband has been planning a birthday surprise for today. He has been going over logistics for weeks, finally deciding on Thanksgiving weekend rather than my birthday weekend.

My idea of an adventure is getting in my car and seeing which Starbucks I end up at. The one two towns over? The one inside the Target? Crap! It’s Monday; there are no lunch sandwiches. (The truck comes on Tuesday.)

I don’t do adventure. Or really, I do it slowly and quietly, and then I congratulate myself on a spontaneity well done.

I’m also not great at not being in on the plans.

I’ve decided to ignore my comfort zone and my instincts to try and find out what’s going on today.

There have been very few clues, and I have been uncharacteristically nonplussed. I haven’t tried to weasel it out of my kids. I haven’t checked his browser history. I’ve asked no questions.

It is truly a birthday adventure. I don’t know how to dress or what jacket to bring or shoes to wear. I will check with my husband but I will probably end up wearing my favorite outfit even though I wore that for Thanksgiving a few days ago. And my boots. I love my boots.

The clues I have received are as follow:

It will be a couple of hours in the car. At least two hours from home.[I have not checked a map to see what falls within a two hour radius of home.]

We are leaving at 9:30 in the morning.

The place closes at 4, I believe.

There is no meal involved; we will have to eat afterwards.

I will need to find our camera and charge it. I’ve been told this is very important.

It was more money than he would normally spend in advance, but I don’t know how much money. [I have also not checked the credit card bill.]

I need to bring all of the family’s passports. [I believe this is a red herring to keep me on my toes, but I will still comply with the request.]

I had a dream last night that my surprise involved live turkeys, driving up stairs, Napoleonic wars re-enactment, war monuments, costumed men on horseback, Ben Franklin, but the size and demeanor of a leprechaun, Philadelphia, Canada, although I don’t know that there actually exists a place. There was also a bridge overflowing with water shaped like one of those tubing waterslides. It was frightening in many, many ways.

I’m going to guess that my dream was way off from the reality. At least, I’m kind of hoping it is.

I’m looking forward to whatever it is. I’m excited because my family is so excited to have kept the secret for so long, and for me to find out what it is.

I will post about it late tonight or tomorrow. Who am I kidding? It will probably be tomorrow.

7/8 – Year of Mercy: Reconcilation

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​On this, the second to last weekend of the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy, I had scheduled my topic as reconciliation. I wasn’t sure quite what I was going to write about, but there the word said in my planner:

Nov. 13 – 7/8 Reconciliation

It kept getting pushed back and I wondered why. It seems G-d had other plans for this post, which is good because the act of reconciliation, of confession, is still not an easy one for me. I just don’t know how to do it or what counts. Do I ask forgiveness for cursing when I will continue to curse? I don’t know. Perhaps one day it will come to me. My priest is a very patient man.

Today, however isn’t about the Catholic rite of reconciliation, but of reconciling two sides, two passions, two opposites that must come together now or risk tearing it apart forever. Finding mercy for ourselves and for others.

Almost one week ago, on Tuesday, I went from thrilled to happy and excited to numb. When I went to bed at 2:30am nothing was decided, but I knew. The outcome was clear.

What I didn’t know was if I could face the morning of Wednesday. How would I explain this new world to my daughter? Even my son was worried before bed and I reassured him not to worry; that Donald Trump would not become our president. Our country was too strong for that.

As I said earlier today, this isn’t about my candidate losing. It’s about what we allowed to happen over the last fifteen months. Journalists can never give a pass again.

But right now, in the aftermath of an election where in reality apathy won, it is time to stop and breathe and reconcile.

Regardless of where we stand on any one issue, we still must work together. We still must move forward. Together. We don’t have to like our president – Republicans proved that for the last eight years, but we do need to work with him and I can promise you that we will work more cooperatively with him than his party worked with the last president. Cooperation and not obstruction. Maybe we can teach them a thing or two about humanity and grace and dignity. We will stand up for what’s right.

We will reconcile our feelings, our emotions and make sure that we are all on the side of ALL Americans no matter their party or race or religion or gender or any of the other things that make us individuals.

We are all in this together and we can be the example that we talk about setting for our children and our neighbors and our friends.

I have faith in us.

The Election of 2016

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​I’m stunned. I’m also shocked and saddened. Yesterday morning, I awoke at 6:45am so I could take my daughter with me to vote before she had to go to school. We talked about the ballot, why I was voting for some people, why I wasn’t voting for others. We whispered so we didn’t disturb or bother anyone else voting at the same time. I took pictures of both the ballot and she and the ballot and before and after pictures before we left the house and after our election day breakfast at McDonald’s. I was sure that we had just voted for the first woman president. To be honest, that was a bonus. I was voting for Hillary Clinton, someone who I had admired and watched since I was out of college. I learned so much about her over the years; what she believed in, what she did and would do as a public servant.

When she became my senator, I knew she’d work her ass off, and she did.

She was a fantastic Secretary of State.

In 2000, I voted for Al Gore, John Kerry in 2004, President Obama in 2008 and 2012. I voted FOR them, not against their opponents. I did not want George Bush, John McCain, or Mitt Romney to be President, but I knew in my heart that if they became president, they would do their best to bring honor to the office. I am not so sure about that this year.

I can’t express what I’m feeling. I’m usually asleep when my two children get on the bus for school. This morning, I made sure I was awake so I would have time to hug them and talk to them about the election results. They were both worried. My son went to bed with a headache, and my daughter asked if she would be forced to wear a hood. Their reactions did not come from us directly, but from listening to Mr. Trump’s rhetoric for the past eighteen months.

I hugged them, and told them not to worry and we wold get through this. It would be okay. The don’t know because they’re too young, but we’ve been here before, and we’ve gotten through it.

This one is a little different.

I never thought I’d see a President endorsed so heartily by the KKK in my adult lifetime. I never thought we’d elect an open racist and misogynist in my adult lifetime, certainly not in the modern age. The VP, a heartbeat away from the Oval Office is a proponent of gay conversion therapy, funerals for fetuses while limiting the rights of the women carrying them.

This isn’t partisan to me. This is insane.

I had planned on this post being one of my reflections on 50. It was going to be about politics and my lifelong love of politics, but I can’t write about that and ignore what’s just happened this morning. I think I need to take a couple days away. There are some posts scheduled in my queue that will post automatically, and hopefully, I’ll be able to continue my 50 reflections, but today…today truly is a time for mourning.

Crime will go up.

Abortions will go up.

Hate crimes will go up.

Homelessness will go up.

Unemployment will go up.

If you look at the statistics over the last century, I think you’ll find that this is what happens when Republicans are in the White House.

On a personal note, my husband will probably lose his job, which will have financial ramifications for years to come.

This wasn’t one election. This was a lifetime. This will affect those not born yet.

We, as a country need to reflect on the last year; the attacks on women, the attacks on journalism and journalists, the attacks on Muslims and Latinos especially, and the continuing stereotyping of African Americans who according to Trump live in hell and the inner cities. I’ll have to mention that to my suburban neighbors.

We need to look at who we are as a country, as a people, and decide where we want to go from here. We need to pray and meditate on what is going on, in whatever way that each of us does. We just decided that the most qualified person in the last half century still isn’t good enough; we want the reality TV star, who may have only won because his campaign manager took away his Twitter and the FBI Director lit a fire on a burned out shell.

Every. Vote. Counts.

Al Gore told you.

Bernie Sanders told you.

Joe Biden and Barack Obama told you.

When will we listen?

When will we do what’s best for all of us, and not just a select few? For some reason, they think that a thirty year public servant is more elitist than a millionaire who lives in a penthouse and wouldn’t know the price of milk if he were standing in the grocery store.

I don’t know what else to say.

It’s too much to take in. It’s only been real for about two hours for me. I went to bed at 2:15am, thinking there was some hope. I woke up knowing it was over, not wanting to know the outcome, but needing to know so I could tell my kids in the morning that it would be alright.

5/8 – Year of Mercy – Intentions

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It always amuses me when things do not go as planned but still they go, and then it’s okay or even better.

I arrived this monring at church intent on writing for about half an hour or so. Instead, I spied the holy door and my intent changed to going through the holy door first, one more time. I prayed the prayer that Pope Francis provided for the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy. I prayed the prayer on the door, and I entered. I was greeted with sounds of the choir practicing. Acapella. Beautiful. The church was still dim, lights not on yet; only natural light filtering through the skylight and the stained glass. It reminded me of my first few days visiting the church.

Before I could take my seat to write before the mass began, I was stopped by a good friend. She was telling me how she and her husband started watching The Walking Dead. They started with season one and are a few episodes into season two and they love it. This made me smile. It shows me not to make assumptions. I would never have recommended that she watch it but so glad she enjoys it.

I was also stopped by my morning of service committee chairperson to tell me I was on my own at the registration table next week. Instead of my usual dread of such a thing, the change, the unexpected, I was not only relieved but thankful I’d volunteered for the registration in the front place.

Mercy and gratitude are everywhere.

You don’t even need to look very far to discover it.

3/8 – Pilgrimage

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​”This (Holy Year) is the opportune moment to change our lives!” the pope has said. “This is the time to allow our hearts to be touched!…May pilgrimage be an impetus to conversion.”

 – Pope Francis

 This is what Pope Francis said when he opened up this Jubilee Holy Year of Mercy. He also mentioned that a pilgrimage would be equally beneficial closer to home if a trip to Rome wasn’t possible.

That intrigued me, and I began to think about pilgrimage in a more tangible, more accessible way.

In a mere five weeks,  we are coming to the conclusion of that Extraordinary Jubilee Year.

In some ways, I have done much towards creating a better understanding of mercy – for myself and for others. I have also reflected much more on forgiveness – again, both for myself and for others.

It took me some time to initially walk through our Holy Door; to feel as though I were ready; worthy of the entrance. I didn’t want to rush through and have it be done, like a ticky box to b checked. I wanted to discern and meditate on what it meant, and perhaps that meant that I would never walk through the portal.

I’ve written before about how I did finally reach a moment to enter, and then a second moment. When our family went on a short holiday to Niagara Falls, I wanted to go to reconciliation and to enter through the Holy Door with prayer and reflection before our journey.

Niagara Falls is one of those places that I grew up visiting and loved as a child, and that I eventually shared with my husband and later with my oldest son. Now, I was going to share it with my two younger children, but I was also going to see the magnificent and powerful falls with new eyes; eyes that had been touched by G-d and by faith.

I had spent much of my year of mercy as a spiritual pilgrim, going to places that struck me as important on my journey. Sometimes that was as simple as sitting in Starbucks or outside on a bench with a cool breeze waving my hair around.

Sometimes, it was taking a week in the spring to visit some local historical places, taking my camera and my journal and discovering new things about the places, the people, and myself despite my lack of stamina.

I went to the Shrine of the North American Martyrs, wandering in the rain, praying, and just being in the stillness of such a place of faith.

I joined three ministries at church; things that I felt a calling to, in education, in adult faith formation, and in service. Time is short, but I’m working through the process of balancing it all. 

I went on two weekend and one four-week retreats that reenergized me, and my creative spirit was able to blend with my faithful spirit. It gave meaning to the Scriptures and the environment, and propelled me forward and given me strength.

My pilgrimage of writing has been equally in the forefront and as important as my spiritual pilgrimage. I am always on the path of a pilgrim, whether I write about it or not. It is who I am.

This year of mercy will remain with me much longer than the physical year.

50 – What Was I Thinking?!

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At the beginning of the year, I had this great idea for a series of posts. To celebrate turning 50 at the end of the year, I would post one reflection every week talking about the past fifty years in my life. Mostly anecdotes, memories that are always floating around in my head. I’ve posted similar ones before that I’ve tagged as “I remember” especially when my kids do something that reminds me of my childhood, like eating McDonald’s fries in the car or visiting Grandma, and you know the types of stories. Some would be longer than others, but they would all be meaningful to me, and hopefully encourage others to post and share their own memorable moments from their lives.

One a week was do-able and I’d have fifty by my birthday in December.

Well, here it is the end of summer and the early beginnings of fall. The kids are back in school, the choir is back at my church, I’m wearing my new fall jacket, and we actually went on a short vacation to Niagara Falls, both new family fun and memories come alive.

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Niagara Falls, as seen from the Canadian side, 2016 (c)

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I have posted ten of those fifty. Ten. With my birthday in less than twelve weeks, I can still make my goal of fifty by my birthday. I would have to post about three to four each week, but it can be done.

This has been a mostly successful year for writing despite falling off the motivational hamster wheel this summer, but I’m confident I can get this done. And getting this done is something that I not only want to do, I need to do it; for myself.

Setting goals and deadlines have always been issues for me. The anxiety kicks in and if I never finish it, it feels as though I can’t fail.

I hope you enjoy reading the forty remaining in the next eleven and a half weeks. I know I will enjoy writing them.

Stardate: 1-9-6-6-2-0-1-6.9.8

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Space…
The final frontier.
These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise;
It’s five year mission:
To explore strange new worlds,
To seek out new life and new civilizations,
To boldly go…
Where no man has gone before.

These iconic words from Gene Roddenberry, brought to life by William Shatner have withstood the test of time.

Fifty years ago today, Star Trek began what would be its fifty-year and ongoing mission. Roddenberry’s vision for the future is still some way off, but I just saw a video on the realities of transparent aluminum, most of us use communicators in some fashion or another, and having a Black woman superior to us in the workplace is more common than 1966, although we could do better.

In 1966, it was somewhat controversial to have such a mixed race crew, let alone the actors who played them. While Jim Kirk was born in Iowa, Williams Shatner hails from Canada. He is still a Canadian citizen, and not a naturalized American. He, Leonard Nimoy, and Walter Koenig are all Jewish. Sulu and George Takei are Japanese. Nichelle Nichols was a Black woman. She and Shatner hold the first for an interracial kiss on television. Pavel Checkov’s character was a breakthrough especially during the space race of the 50s and the 60s. The idea of working with the Russians was nearly impossible to imagine then. And of course, Jimmy Doohan’s Scotty gave homage to the many Scotsmen and women who led the industrial revolution and got the engines running.

Even in today’s Kelvin timeline, not reboot (according to Mike and Denise Okuda), there is an homage given to the original cast as well as bringing the story into the 21st century for us moviegoers.

I’ve watched every iteration of Star Trek including reading the comic books, every new series (Deep Space Nine is my favorite after the original series), every movie, every animation. Wasn’t there a Star Trek meets Scooby Doo or am I imagining that? Somewhere in the depths of my basement boxes is a photojournal of Trouble with Tribbles that I had once memorized. I learned Klingon as a young adult, and went to conventions so long ago that there were no charges for photos or autographs.

Reflecting on 50 years of science fiction, watching it intersect with science fact, sitting in the captain’s chair at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, and forging our own new worlds through our own inspiration to write and world-build.

Star Trek is many things to many people. I have been a fan my whole life, and will continue to be into the next half century and beyond.

Happy Birthday, Star Trek!
And many more to come.
The stories yet to be told are out there, and I for one, can’t wait.

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US Postal Stamps, issued 2016

50-9 – Shea Stadium

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I mentioned in my last “50” that there was a Shea Stadium reflection. It still bothers me to this day. In fact, it  thirty-nine years ago today that it happened. Wow. Thirty-nine years. I guess I really can hold a grudge.

We had tickets to see the NY Mets play at Shea. It must have been ’77 and it was just me and my Dad. I have no recollection of who they were supposed to play. I don’t know if this was my first visit. I can remember other games, at least one, filling out the scorecard, reading the program, eating snacks. I probably still have the program in one of my boxes piled in the basement.

This day, however was July and there was a city-wide blackout that affected everything. Maybe you’ve heard about it. We must have driven; I don’t think the trains were running. How could they be?

By the time we arrived at the stadium, the decision to call the game had already been made. The stadium was mostly empty and my Dad and I walked around the cement concourse. Whatever vendors were there were already packing up. We looked down on the empty field and across; the perfect blue sky seeming much brighter from our shadowed place. The grass on the field also seemed somehow greener, brighter than normal or maybe I was seeing it through a ten year old’s eyes.

The reason they gave for cancelling (or maybe postponing) the game was that the scoreboard didn’t work, so they couldn’t hold the game. To this day, it still makes no sense to me. I mean it’s baseball. Do you really need electricity to play ball? It wasn’t even a night game. The scoreboard doesn’t work. Even my ten year old, polite, non-swearing self called bullshit on that one.

We never got back; not that I recall.

Whether it was our moving east to Long Island or my moving to ice hockey as my go-to sport (Rangers all the way!), I don’t know.

I still love the Mets and root for them always. My Dad grew up in the Bronx so his Mets affiliation was probably more for us kids than for his own feelings. You couldn’t like both, but we tried. He was such a good Dad. More than that, he was a good person. I hope I’m half as good as he was.

For now, though, Let’s Go Mets!

50-7 – Sick. Bleh.

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In Food, posted Monday, I mentioned eating sweet potatoes when I was sick. The truth is I was almost never sick. I had the chicken pox like everyone of my generation and got a week off from school, staring out of the front window of our apartment with my brother who also had them that week. But I was never sick. I didn’t get colds, no ear infections. While my friends were out sick, I was always in school. I did miss senior skip day and I never went to class in college (or work later on) on my birthday and while I always worked Christmas, I never worked New Year’s. I also never called in because of having too much to drink.

So I was completely stunned when in my 20s, working for a child development center for the US Navy, I got an ear infection. Having never had one before I had no idea what it was except that I was certain that I was dying. The pain was unbearable. I tried to lie down to make it stop, not realizing that is pretty much the worst thing you can do for an ear infection. When I finally got diagnosed and on antibiotics, I thanked G-d for science and medicine and medical advances that would remove that pain.

Since then, I have had a few more ear infections, chronic ringing in my ears (thanks Stray Cats) and hearing loss (again, thank SC), but I still never really get sick.

My second pregnancy.

One or two bouts of food poisoning and a couple of flus, all after my kids were born. Kids wear you down. They really do.

I am pro-vaccine. I feel the need to say that in this world of maybe science doesn’t work, but science does work and vaccines save lives. I have the mark on my left shoulder from the small pox vaccine that my kids will never get because we eradicated it and no longer need a small pox vaccine in this country. I went to Jonas E. Salk Middle School, named for the man who discovered the vaccine against polio, a disease that killed our thirty-second president.

On Monday, I had my yearly physical, complete with a tetanus booster. I moaned in that childlike way of no like shots, but I took it and there was no doubt that I would.

It hurt for that split second and I went about my day, getting my hair cut, eating lunch which fit into my new prescribed diet (except for the diet coke which so far is the last one I’ve had). I watched Major Crimes. I slept and got up on Tuesday and went grocery shopping. I felt great.

Then I felt fine.

then I was achey and whiney, and my head was throbbing and I had a fever, but I was so cold that I needed a blanket and then another. I fell asleep in my office chair, which is an overstuffed living room chair.

I barely ate dinner. My eyes hurt (which is why I haven’t been here as often as I had planned), even as I listened to Containment on the television.

Wednesday was slightly better but not by much.

On Thursday, I was able to leave my bed, eat lunch and go to my meeting for the day of service for my church. I’m the secretary.

I will be calling the doctor today, although I should have called on Wednesday morning. I have never had a reaction to a vaccine before. Obviously, this is better than getting any of the things the Tdap prevents, but it was still pretty miserable.

I couldn’t even watch television which is usually very comforting when I ‘m not feeling well. Sweet potatoes and the blue glow of the television used to be the only medicine I needed.

Take your shots kids (and adults) and have some extra water, fruit, Netflix, wifi, and of course, sweet potatoes on hand. Just in case.

50-6 – Sundae with The Mets

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When I was a kid, we lived in Queens. I would describe it as in the shadow of Shea Stadium, but we really lived nowhere near Flushing Meadow. I loved the Mets. I was once supposed to go to a game, but that is another reflection for another time.

One of the things that was a big thing that I haven’t seen in upstate New York where we live now is Carvel ice cream. They were everywhere when I was a kid, and of course, the commercials with Tom Carvel.

Wednesday is Sundae at Carvel.

We would go every Wednesday for buy one sundae, get one free. My mother always got a black cherry sundae with extra cherries. I never appreciated the extra cherries until I was older. Maraschino cherries are the best.

Carvel used to have sundaes in a Mets helmet cup. They would put the vanilla soft serve in the plastic cap and you would go over to the sundae bar and add in your toppings: hot fudge and rainbow sprinkles were my thing. Although now I prefer caramel, an occasional hot fudge brings back so many memories of childhood summers. And springs, falls, and winters. We ate (and continue to eat) ice cream all year long.

We were in a local Stewart’s shop and my husband got me a bowl of ice cream in a Mets cap. I was so excited. I hadn’t had one of these since I was little. My daughter had a Yankees cap. I don’t think we were ever offered a Yankees cap in Queens.

It wasn’t a sundae, just a scoop, but I did pour on the rainbow sprinkles like always.

I ate it slow, letting some of the melted cream puddle in the bottom so I could drink from the brim. It was a memory come to life. I think the ice cream tasted better, too.