A One Minute Lesson

Earlier this week a quick look at the calendar invoked a panic attack.  It is mid-December, Christmas is less than two weeks away and I still have so much to do.  Work has been so busy and has consumed not only my days but several hours of my recent nights that I find myself behind on my Christmas preparations.  So I decided to take one of my remaining three vacation days yesterday in the hopes of getting much of my holiday shopping done. Not really what I consider a vacation day, but necessary. 

 With list in hand I left my house by ten o’clock.  I made a quick stop at my parent’s house to borrow Mom’s “30% off” Kohls coupon.  My first three stops of the day, Kohls, Michaels and Modells were successful.  Next on the list was BJ’s I needed to pick up a few things for the week.  While I was there I also picked up a fresh cut pine decorated wreath and a few poinsettias. I paid for the items and proceeded to the exit.

  If you have ever shopped in BJ’s you know that you must produce you receipt at the exit so that the clerk can verify that the contents of your cart matches the items on the receipt.  The process usually moves quickly.  For the most part people are prepared for this ritual.  However, yesterday the customer in front of me at the exit was not.

  Standing in front of me was a short elderly gentleman.  As he approached the clerk she asked him for his receipt.  He checked one pocket, then the next and next, then back to the first and second.   Finally he found it. He struggled to wrap his fingers around the strip of paper.  The clerk sighed and rolled her eyes.  I too found myself getting annoyed.  I still had to Walmart, Target and Home Goods on my list of stores to still visit.  I was hoping that I would be home early enough to beat the setting sun and go out for a meditative walk.  “Come on!” I said to myself.

  And as quickly as that thought crossed my mind I slapped myself back into reality.  How could I be so thoughtless and self-centered?  Does it really matter that I will get to Walmart a minute or two later than I thought? This man could have easily been one of my family members.  Would I want them to be treated as such? 

  The clerk checked the receipt and handed it back to the gentleman.  It took him a few moments to put the slip back into his pocket. He proceeded to push his cart out of the store.  I stopped to watch him.  He walked slowly and was impeded by a limp.  For all I know this shopping trip took so much of his energy. One day if I am fortunate to live a long life my body too will start to betray me.  I will not be able to move at the same rate of speed or with the same steady footedness and strength as I do today.

 Like each of us this man has a story of his own. He may be someone’s husband, father or grandfather, a man that his family adores. He may have spent years of his life working as a laborer, a businessman, or a fireman. He may have been a community leader or a volunteer. My thoughts about his life are conjecture, but one thing I know for sure is he lived much of his life in a world that is very different from the one we live in today.

    He lived in a time of patience.  Meals were not heated in a few minutes in the microwave; they were slowly cooked with farm fresh ingredients. Letters were hand written and sent via the Postal Service. They took days to arrive. Now messages are quickly typed (many with one letter abbreviations for full words) and they are delivered to electronic mail boxes in just moments.  Families sat together daily and shared meals and conversation.  A sense of community was commonplace.  Town parades and celebrations were an event.  During the holiday season so many people looked forward to shopping in Main Street’s family owned business. It was the only place to shop, not the mega malls of today.

  All of those years ago Christmas was about being thankful for the food on the table, the roof over your head and the loved ones that you shared it with.  It was about abundance of the heart not of possessions.  How have we lost focus on what is truly important?  Why do we stress about making sure that the newest game system or I Pad is under the tree? 

  Ashamed and remorseful for my initial reaction I loaded my purchases into the car and headed to Walmart.  I love how life gives you second chances.  As I rounded the corner and entered the isle in Walmart that contained baking supplies I saw a middle aged woman with her cart.  In her cart was a cane.  As I passed her she inadvertently pushed her cart into the free standing display of pumpkin pie kits.  Several fell to the floor.  Realizing that the task of restacking these items may be a challenge for her I backed up my cart and returned to that spot.  She was attempting to bend down.  I started picking up the boxes.  I said, “I’ve got this Ma’am.”   She thanked me and when I finished I continued with my shopping.  Lending this helping hand took no more than forty seconds, but lightened her load by tons.

  And sometimes life gives you third chances.  After Walmart I shopped in Target and as I was walking towards Home Goods I passed the Dollar Store.  I noticed an older woman with a cart standing inside of the store at the exit door.  I was not planning on going into the store, but I stopped and opened the door for her to exit.  As I did she smiled and said, “Thank you!  I did not know how I was going to open that heavy door.”

 Truth be told, everyday there are many opportunities to share a smile, show kindness or lend a helping hand to one another.  The problem is we rush through our days with blinders on.  I am so very grateful for my one minute lesson at BJ’s.  It reminded me of the true spirit of Christmas.  We are to embrace the feeling of this season. It is to carry throughout the year. Keep in your mind and close to heart these words…….peace on earth and goodwill toward all. 

Oh, Christmas Tree

Oh! Christmas Tree

   Once again it is the Christmas season.  Glad tidings and good will to all is our mantra this month.  During the last four weeks of the year peace is to fill this land, seep into our hearts and carry us throughout the upcoming year.  After all, isn’t that what the advertising executives tell us should happen!  It is a time of family togetherness.  Shopping, baking, wrapping and decorating are all on the “to do” list. Traditions and decorations abound.

 Life has a way of creeping up on us and reconfiguring your life at a faster pace than you can embrace it. Today, for the first time in nineteen or so years my husband I decorated the Christmas tree by ourselves.  Our daughter will be twenty one this spring and is currently studying at a College out of state.  Our son who is fifteen was awaiting a video stream that was so very important to him to see.  That meant that neither of our children was available to participate in the annual family Christmas decorating festivities. However, our son did take pity on his old Mom and assisted with the ceremonial passing of the boxes and plastic bins from the attic. He did do the heavy lifting so to speak!

 Our tree is an artificial one that I garnered over twenty five years ago from my first job out of College.  I worked for a company that manufactured artificial Christmas trees.  At the time, I was fortunate to acquire a tree from one of the top selling lines.  Through the years it has served us very well, however these past few years she is showing her age….I guess, she is much like me!  So today, once again my husband and I set up the only Christmas tree that our children have opened their presents around on every Christmas morning of their lives.

    It was odd.  It was quiet. It was a full circle moment.  I was transported back to our first Christmas together.  We had decorated the Christmas tree with much anticipation of the joy of the season and in hope of what our future may hold.  

  Today, as we unpacked each box of tree ornaments the layers of our lives unfolded before us.  Unlike our first years together, our lives were now weaved together in a tapestry that told our family story. Each box we opened  contained Christmas tree ornaments that told a story, sparked a memory, reminded us of a loved one,  contained some magic and held a history all of their own.  Our Christmas tree is decorated with basketballs and ballerinas for our daughter.  Tigger from Winnie the Pooh reminds us of our son.  He would bounce around the house just like Tigger when he was little and there are many ornaments to prove it!

 Our tree also has a few mauve Christmas bulbs with gray writing that announced our marriage that took place in October of 1988.   Since I worked for a company that manufactured Christmas trees and ornaments I thought this would make a perfect wedding favor.  The mauve color matched the bridesmaid’s dresses and the groomsmen’s cumber buns. The gray also matched the color of the groomsmen’s tuxedos.  Each year we hang this ornament on our tree and I know that so many family members and friends do the same. For sure, the past twenty three years our Christmas tree has displayed this same announcement and message.

We have handmade ornaments from pre-school projects. 

There are the loving handmade notes from a young girl presented to her parents a Christmas several years ago.

It contains a few of my Grandmothers glass ornaments that we gingerly place upon the branches each year.  I have one of my Grandmother’s golden pinecones that doubled as hand grenade during the war years for my Dad and his brother.  Each of these wonderful items and memories bind one generation to the next.

 I have seen the Christmas trees that contain uniform decorations. The ribbons, bows and icicles are color coordinated.  Each component resides in their predetermined location. These trees are truly elegant and breathtaking.  As beautiful they are, to me, they are missing something.  Personality. Uniform is the last word you would use to describe our family Christmas tree. 

 So, this year after our tree was filled with ornaments and lights I retreated to my room and removed the bubble wrap from a treasure.  It was a Christmas ornament that I purchased  in September while I was in Sedona Arizona.  It is a small, elegant angel adorned in purple. She reminds me of what I discovered within those red rocks….bliss!

  As I placed the ornament upon the tree branch I knew that this too has become a part of our family story, more importantly, my story.  I believe that many years from now, one of my children will be gingerly placing this angel on a branch of their family Christmas tree.  As they do, they will be reminded of the time many years ago when their Mother gave herself a gift.   It was a gift of peacfulness and discovery in a place of amazing beauty. 

  And so I wish this same feeling of freedom and bliss for my children, my family and my friends!  During this Christmas season may you be reminded of the joy in your life. May it always hold a place in your heart.

The Christmas Ties that Bind...

Watching The Grinch with my kids! My very own little Cindy Lou Who is loving it! I love Christmas! 

 This post appeared on my Facebook wall on November 28^th.  These words were spoken by my cousin’s wife.  They have three children under the age of ten.  The youngest is a girl, a.k.a. Cindy Lou Who. She has blond hair that is pulled back in pigtails, and a smile and sweetness to match the character.   On my face and in my heart a smile instantly appeared when I read this. I was transported back in time.  I too sat with my children enjoying the exact same show.  They would be in their pajamas, of course the kind with the sewn in feet, and I would pop the popcorn for the show.  It was an event, a happening. One of those very special evenings when the regular routine was ignored and we would be transported to a magical world.  I would savor every minute of the show and our time together.

   It seems as if as soon as the Thanksgiving turkey is carved, the television schedule is announced that contains all of the special Christmas shows.  We all know them.  They may be in Cartoon or Claymation form, but we can recite every line, and sing every song. Our hearts are warmed when Santa asks Rudolph to guide his sleigh on the snowy and foggy night, when the Grinch returns Christmas and all the trimmings to the residents of Who Ville, we love to discover how Santa came to town, we were so very happy when Santa was able to recover from his sick bed to deliver Christmas after all, and our hearts melted when Linus took the stage to explain the true meaning of Christmas.

  Not only did I enjoy watching these shows with my children, but I enjoyed watching the same ones with my sisters when I was growing up.  And in our house these shows were also an event.  We had to have all of our homework completed, be bathed and in our pajamas by the show start time.  Mom would make the popcorn, but not in the microwave.  She popped it on the stove top, the old fashioned way.

 Back in the day there were no VCR, DVD or TiVo’s to record the shows for future viewing. They were truly a once a year event. I remember one particular snowy and windy night back in the late 1960’s or early 1970’s.  My sisters and I kept up our end of the bargain.  Our homework was completed and we were squeaky clean from our baths, we turned on the television and we were horrified to see nothing but snow.  Not the white fluffy kind, but the black and white snow that filled the TV screen!  It was not just on channel 2, but on each of the eleven remaining channels!  The only thing that this could mean was that there was a problem with our TV and or, our antenna.

  Panic ensued in our house.  When was Daddy getting home from work?  We all knew that Dad was the “Mighty Man of Steel” and he could fix anything, but would he be home in time?  Would we be able to see Rudolph this year?  We have waited all year for this hallowed night. How could the winds blow down our TV antenna on such a special night?

  Well as luck would have it, Dad arrived home to rescue his daughters.  There was no time for dinner, not with such a crisis at hand.  So out into the cold and wind Dad ventured as he climbed onto the roof.  The only thing that he asked is that we told him when we could see the picture on the TV.  

  With the same determination that Rudolph had as he guided Santa’s Sleigh, Dad possessed the same as he ventured out to splice those wires so his girls could have their once a year magical journey.  To the roof Dad went.  The wind was whipping in circles at the top of the mountain, and also on the top of our roof.  Frozen fingers and all Dad spiced the wires together.  He yelled to his family in the warm house to see if it worked….no response, so he yelled again, and again, no response….finally he secured the wire connections with the electrical tape  and entered the house, only to find his girls huddled on the couch, sharing popcorn and enthralled watching Rudolph!   Mission accomplished!!  That particular night has gone down in history, our family history, that is!

   I have such fond memories of watching the “Grinch Who Stole Christmas”,  “The Year Without a Santa Claus”, Santa Claus is Coming to Town”, and A Charlie Brown Christmas” with my sisters.  To this day we still sing the songs and recite the words.  With just a single note of “Santa Clause is Coming to Town”, or “I’m Mr. Heat Miser, I’m Mr. Snow” I am transported back to two places, my childhood and my children’s childhoods. 

   So very many years later, these shows still mean so much to me.  The really amazing thing is,all of these forty and fifty year old Christmas specials mean the same if not more to my children.  So the circle is complete….and in the future we go!  For some reason I do believe that these same Christmas shows will resonate in much of the same way with my Grandchildren.

   We live in the century of cutting edge technology.  Animation is now considered an art form and you can even major in it at college.  What can be created with computer graphics astounds me.  And yet these Claymation and Cartoon Christmas specials created forty to fifty years ago are still generational favorites.  They continue to resonate with the older and younger generations.  Timeless is the word!

   It seems as the years progress, the madness increases.  We are overcome with the “must haves”, the “you cannot live with outs.”  And like Charlie Brown I shout “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is really all about?”  We need to continue to listen to Linus.  In this world of beauty, messages abound…… Linus recited to us that the true meaning of Christmas is: “Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace and goodwill towards all men.”.........Merry Christmas and may your heart continue to hold Christmas joy today, and all of your tomorrows. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BeVDOu2_Fuc&feature=related

Creamed Onions.......

 As the brightly colored leaves fall from the tree branches around us I am reminded that Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching.  It is one of my favorite holidays. This holiday is simply about being together with our family and friends.  The advertisers are not inundating us with suggestions of things we must purchase by the fourth Thursday of November.  The stores are not filled with isles of Thanksgiving decorations for us to buy. This holiday is about nourishment.  It is nourishment not only of the body, but also of the soul.  We are reminded of our connection. And these connections run deep, from generation to generation.

 

  We all have at least one chair at our Thanksgiving table that is no longer occupied.  It may be a recent loss or one from many years ago.  Regardless of the timing the void is the same and its scar is apparent.  This year at my family Thanksgiving table there will be one less adult dining with us. But as fate has it, we now have a child’s high chair to add to the mix. We celebrate this new life that is with us and cherish the one that is no longer sitting at our table.

  I remember the Thanksgivings when I was a child.  We would go to my Grandparents house.  The table was extended well into the living room to accommodate the crowd.  Grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends all had a place.   As my sisters, cousins and I played house in my Grandmothers small utility room. The men watched football and the women prepared the feast. The table would be overflowing with food that not only looked delicious, but also smelled wonderful!  There were so many fancy dishes that displayed the dinner and a ceramic turkey bowl that my parents had purchased from Woolworths for five dollars (a large sum of money in the 1960’s) to house the mashed potatoes. Among the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and trimmings somewhere on the table were the creamed onions.  Creamed onions were a once a year happening.  As a young child they did not appeal to my eye or my palate, but none the less, they were part of our family Thanksgiving and the adults sure raved about them!

 As the years progressed, my Grandmother no longer possessed the physical energy to prepare such a feast for so many.   In addition, my Grandparents house could no longer accommodate our growing clan.  So my parents took over.  Thanksgiving dinner was now served at the “19 Club” our house.

 The family members who dined together on Thanksgiving may have changed, but mashed potatoes served from the ceramic turkey and the creamed onions remained a constant. Each year Mom prepared the creamed onions, and each year they were devoured. 

    As time went on, I completed high school and college and Mom continued to serve Thanksgiving dinner at our home. Each year, and each dinner conveyed its own message, its own flavor, but throughout all of them the creamed onions were a constant at our family table. 

  Life has a way of creeping up on us. One moment I was a child at the Thanksgiving table joking around, next I was a young adult and somehow and someway I suddenly garnered the title of adult.  With a blink of an eye I found myself not only a participant in the meal, but also I was expected to be a contributing chef to the feast!

    The second year of my marriage we traveled to Western Pennsylvania to spend it with my husband’s family.  As much as I was attempting to garner my position and figure out where I fit within my new family, my Mother-in-law simply and purely cemented it.  I was one of her children.  It did not matter if I arrived through birth or through marriage; I was a part of her tribe.  So when I arrived at Mom’s home a little out of sorts for Thanksgiving, she gave me free range.  Whatever I wanted to contribute to the meal was just fine with her!  From such an early stage in our relationship it was known that that the “in-law” designation did not fit.  It was simply mother and daughter. 

  That first Thanksgiving in Western PA my husband and I armed with the creamed onion recipe scoured the grocery stores for white boiling onions.  These are the type of onions that are essential for making creamed onions.   After many visits to every grocery store in town, we found a few baskets of very, very small white onions; they would work and did the trick.  Creamed onions now resided on my husband’s family Thanksgiving table…..and I must say they were very well received…..especially by my new Mom! Each successive year, creamed onions were my contribution.  Although, now I purchased the onions at our local apple orchard and brought them with me to Pennsylvania!

 Life continues to meander along its path.  Due to my daughter’s basketball obligations we did not travel to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving for several years.  And as life has it, my Mother-in-Law no longer dwells with us upon this earth.  A mere three weeks after her passing we had quiet and intimate family Thanksgiving.  My parents and sisters were spending the holiday abroad, in Ireland; we on the other hand were trying to reconfigure our lives within our new reality.  For the first time we fried a turkey had the trimmings, and without a doubt the menu included creamed onions.

Thereafter, Thanksgiving was held at my sister’s home.  She had moved back to the New York area a few years prior and had now had garnered a job as the Barn Manager on a beautiful farm/estate in Westchester County.  Although her living space was limited, she welcomed our extended family to her home. We gathered in a pure and beautiful place to celebrate life, all of our blessings and our connections.  These were truly magical Thanksgivings. And each celebration was accompanied with the creamed onions that continued to have their place of prominence the menu, along with all of the love!

 

 Life reconfigures. This year my sister has remarried and is adjusting to her new life in another state.  We will be having a small family Thanksgiving at my parent’s home.  Our table will be set for ten which includes the newest addition to our family who loves to eat with his hands!  Not one of us has a crystal ball and knows what will occur or change from this Thanksgiving to the next.  However, once again our table will be set with love, memories and the creamed onions.

 Whether or not creamed onions entice your palate is not the important.  For my family they are the constant, the known entity on Thanksgiving.  The creamed onions are simply a thread that sew together the memories.   They are a connection to the generations that preceded us and to those that will succeed us.   We will always be connected.  Life's journey is not simply about where you have been, or where you are going, but where you have come from.  Our roots define us.  They are the compass to our future. 

  Whatever dish may be the constant at your family Thanksgiving table, savor it and enjoy it for yet another year.  May it nourish and sustain you and your family today, tomorrow and thereafter!   Happy Thanksgiving!

Semper Fi Hearts

On October 6^th my Mother celebrated her 75^th birthday and my parent’s celebrated their 55^th Wedding Anniversary.  I always appreciated how my parents simplified our calendars with this joint celebration. One day, two events.  If you remembered one you were golden however, if you forgot the date, well, you were in the dog house!

  Just like the Universe aligns the stars in the sky, it was destined that the family would be together on this day.  Our parents had invited all of us out to dinner to celebrate the dual occasion.  All four daughters were there along with two son-in-laws, one was home parenting his young son while his wife was dining with us.

  Special is a word that is used and overused to express a particular feeling, but it was special and magical to all be together for this evening.  Distance would soon separate us physically, the great big bear hugs won’t be possible with the whole clan, but as we always have been, we will remain close in heart and connected.

 During this wonderful celebration Dad mentioned that on the following Saturday night he was going to walk in the “Light the Night” Event for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  He was looking for financial sponsors, and of course he found them at our table.  They were the best kind, extremely generous.  But he also found a partner in this endeavor.  I told Dad that I would love to walk with him.

  Both of my parents have huge hearts.  They are full of compassion for their family, their friends and any one in need.  Like all families we have our own inside jokes.  One term that has never left our family is “mercy of mission.”  Now you can probably figure out that the words were inverted, but the action and sentiment rings true.  My parents have and continue to conducted many “missions of mercy”.   I remember hearing that my Dad took a 50-50 ticket one evening during his bowling league to benefit a local family that lost their home to a fire.  Of course Dad won, and true to himself, he gave his share to the family in need.

  Dad shared his reason for wanting to walk in the “Light up the Night” event.  He was walking for his Godmother who died of leukemia and his brother-in-law who has been battling lymphoma for the last thirteen years. 

  Now, let me tell you about Dad’s brother in law, my Uncle.  From a very young age I have always known Uncle Bob to be a very precise man.   Manicured haircuts, deliberate speech patterns, freshly cleaned and creased clothing are his trademarks.  This of course was to the outer world.  To his family and friends he is the man who listens to you….really, really listens, and then offers advice. He is the owner of the bluest pair of eyes that are full of compassion.  These eyes are the portal to a wonderful and amazing soul. 

  When I was very young my Aunt and Uncle lived four houses away from us.  At this time Uncle Bob was a Pharmacist.  One summer afternoon while out playing a few of the neighborhood kids fell and landed on my arm.  My Mother doctored me up, but asked Uncle Bob to come take a look at me that night.  Of course he obliged.  I had taken up residence in my parent’s bed and room.  As clear as day I remember Uncle Bob leaning close to me so no one else could hear. He said, “Well, it doesn’t look broken, but tell your Mom it hurts a lot.  You will get lots of ice cream and should sleep in the big bed.”  And that I did….even though my arm was broken.  I think Uncle Bob told me that just so I would not worry.  And I didn’t worry.

  When you are young you truly do not understand the impact of the decisions that adults make.  Our worlds are small and confined.  Somewhere within this time my Uncle Bob who had served with the Marines (his mandatory term) in Vietnam during the war decided, after much soul searching that this was his calling.  So he re-enlisted, signed up again, or whatever you call this act of selflessness.   The details of this part of his journey are fuzzy to me, but the reason why he did it is crystal clear.  It is a calling, a belonging, a sense of county and a passion.  The Marine Corps was a part of him as much as he was a part of the Marine Corps.

    In 2005 my daughter was in the eighth grade. Her history class she was assigned a project called “Veterans in My Family.”   There were a series of questions that she needed to ask each veteran.  These questions included their branch of service, wars fought in, responsibilities, honors received and of course if they had anything that they would like to share or say. 

   My daughter called Uncle Bob and asked for his assistance. He was honored to share his experience with her.  I know that there is so much more could have been included in her report.   He has a very long and equally successful career as a Marine.  However, the project requirements were one page per veteran. So this is the condensed version of his career and these are the words that accompanied the pictures and colorful ribbons embossed with the American flag.

“My Great Uncle, Robert Wilson was in the U.S. Marine Corps.  He served for twenty six years starting in 1962.  He retired from the Marines as a Colonel.  He did two tours in Vietnam War.  He has been assigned to Vietnam, Italy, Spain, Israel, Hong Kong, Belgium, Singapore, Okinawa, Kuwait and other countries in the Mid-East, and countries by the Mediterranean.  Areas he specialized in included infantry and intelligence.  My Uncle Bob has three bronze stars, a Leisure Merit, a Navy Unit Sanction, Presidential Unit Sanction (which the Unit received) and a Vietnam Course of Gallantry.

On his first tour in Vietnam he was Intelligence and the Helicopter Squad.  He spent six months (on his second tour) as a Company Commander and fought in the 5^th Marines Regiment on a daily basis. He lost one hundred and fifty people.  He also spent six months as an Operations Officer in Planning.

  He also said, “It was an honor to serve.””

  I know that my Uncle’s service consisted of so very much more than this eighth grade report could begin to touch upon.  I remember my Mom baking chocolate chip cookies that were not for us kids but for Uncle Bob while he was on tour.  They were neatly and protectively packed in colorful metal cookie tins.  Kool Aide packets always accompanied the cookies the Marines needed something to flavor the water.

   Upon his retirement from the Marine Corps my Uncle began a consulting service.  He and my aunt planned to make up for much of the time that they spent apart during his Marine Corps service.  They love to travel and that was part of their plan. 

  We all know that life does not proceed solely according to our plan.  Shortly after his retirement Uncle Bob was diagnosed with lymphoma.  He underwent the recommended treatments and was in remission.  The cancer reoccurred again but in another part of his body.  Once again he underwent more treatments and then remission.  This cycle has continued for thirteen years!  The source of the cancer has been linked to Agent Orange that he was exposed to while serving in Vietnam. My Uncle loves the Marine Corps.  The Corps has always run through his veins.  Another of life’s ironies, my Uncle’s life passion is also the cause of one of his greatest battles.

 Uncle Bob served twenty six years of his life as a Marine and has spent the past thirteen years fighting to survive.  Like any battle a Marine may encounter the lymphoma battle has been one of strategy, attacking, and retreating.  Each time a different part of the body is affected and Uncle Bob wins the battle.  Some are loud victories, others are quiet ones.   Marines are strong.  Marines have resolve.  So this lymphoma did not know what it was getting itself into when he took up residence in Uncle Bob’s body. 

  Last fall my cousins threw a surprise 50^th Anniversary for their parents.  At this time Uncle Bob was fighting a respiratory ailment.  His voice may have been weakened, but his spirit was strong.  There were many tributes to the couple, and heck making it 50 years together, they surely deserved it! 

  Each of their children had something heartfelt, funny or witty to say.  The youngest son not only had words to convey his feeling, but also music.  He played on this guitar the Marine Corps Hymn.  We are accustomed to hearing this song performed commanding and strong by a full brass band, much like the characteristics of the Corps. But the simplicity of the guitar strings and a son’s love brought this music to a different level.  Uncle Bob who has fought fearlessly for his country and deliberately for his life was overtaken by emotion.  I have never seen my Uncle release such pure feelings. This emotion came from those deep blue eyes that are connected to his heart, soul and core. 

http://youtu.be/PysmQGL6_tI

  The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society fund raising event “Light the Night” is designed to raise not only financial support, but also emotional support for those fighting these diseases. Eager to do our part Dad and I arrived at the event ready to go.  We made our way to the registration tent, as we registered Dad made sure to tell the young man who was checking us in why and for whom we were walking. With our donations turned in we received our participant bracelets and headed out to join in the “pre-game” festivities.  We picked up our tee-shirts, visited the food tent and chose our balloons.  Dad had the balloons planned out.  They had three colors gold for those that have lost their battle with the disease, white for those who continue to battle and red for a show of support.  Dad chose a gold balloon, for his Godmother and I carried a white one, for Uncle Bob.  Inside the base of each balloon was a light, which in the dark, when you turned it on, would “light the night”.

  True to form, at the event Dad found someone he knew. Not only did Dad know this man, but his Granddaughter was a survivor.  She is a vibrant ten year old girl who was running around with her friends playing tag. She showed us that you can battle and overcome. Dad registered his Godmother’s name to read at the memory ceremony.  We had something to eat, enjoyed the band, the dancers the cheerleaders and we were touched by both the Memory and the Survivors ceremony. 

  Darkness soon entered and we began our walk.  Illuminated balloons in hand and a mixture of joy and sadness in our hearts we ventured out.  Dad and I walked in silence for the first ten minutes or so. I think we were both in reflective moods.  Then it struck me, I needed to enjoy this time with my Dad.  I wanted to savor it.  How many times do we truly have this opportunity, and how many times thereafter do we regret not doing so?  I began the conversation, but it took on a life of its own and flowed.  My Dad is full of insight, knowledge and wisdom.  On this night he shared all three….along with some family memories.   It really did not matter where or how long our walk was, all that mattered was that Dad and I were together. By doing this we were honoring two magical souls; one still with us, one who is not.  It is true, family ties do bind us.  They bind us in so many more ways than we realize.  And on that night because of the family ties¸ more memories were created.

  While driving to work the Thursday before the “Light the Night” event I was thinking about the upcoming walk and the reason why I was doing it.  I was also thinking about conveying this story.  So many thoughts and memories of my Uncle Bob flooded my mind, along with a few tears.  I wondered if I wrote this, would he or his family be upset or offended.  And as I was driving along this two lane country road, a road that I have traveled for the past five years I spotted a young man walking in the distance.  I believe that this may have been the third time in five years that I had spotted anyone walking along this narrow shoulder on the road.   I could see that he was wearing a red sweatshirt.  I don’t know why, but I said to myself “If he is wearing a Marine sweatshirt I need to write and share Uncle Bob’s story.”  Now, the red sweatshirt could have been for one of our two of our local colleges, or many professional sports teams, or just for a general advertisement.  As I got closer I saw the letters were gold….and when I could read them, clearly printed across this young man’s chest was “Lejeune.”   I gasped in shock! Camp Lejeune is a Marine training ground.  Thank you Universe for the acknowledgement and confirmation!

   Semper Fidelis or shortened, Semper Fi, the Marine Corps motto, in Latin means "Always Faithful”. When I first thought about writing this, I believed I was doing so for my Uncle.  However, as the feelings flowed and the words evolved I realized I was writing it for two very strong, courageous and honorable men; my Uncle and my Dad.  Both have engaged in battles and supported their brothers and family. They live their lives by example and compassion.  Here are to two Semper Fi hearts….may they continue to be always faithful………..and thank you for inspiring all of us!!!

The Sedona Experience - Part IV

              “In the midst of our lives, we must find the magic that makes our souls soar.” 

This quote is embossed on the front of the journal that I had purchased to bring along with me to Sedona.  The sentiment is fitting in so many ways.  This trip was a life line. I have rediscovered the magic within that was dormant. That which was once lost is now mine to hold, to embrace.  I pushed myself beyond the limitation that I perceived I had. And yes, with all of the messages and experiences that the red rocks have revealed to me, my soul that had been stuck in the mud is now free to and has taken flight.  I truly loved every minute of the experience.

After our hike on Sunday morning September 11^th I realized that I had just about twenty four hours left in this place where life takes shape, form and meaning. I must admit, I felt like Cinderella who only had limited time before the coach turned back into a pumpkin and the glass slipper was no longer mine to wear.

  I have struggled with writing this fourth and final installment of my Sedona journey.  I have been working on it sporadically the past few weeks and it just hasn’t felt right.  I find myself grasping for words that would bring the remaining experiences to life. I felt that I had become repetitive in my thoughts. I would write, read, edit, re-write, re-read and re-edit.  None of it was to my satisfaction.  So after scrapping all that I created, I decided to take a different approach.

    Story telling can be achieved in many different forms.   A story can be conveyed in written word, the spoken word, acting, drawing, painting, or by an electronic means such as a photograph.  Well, ok, in my case by many photographs!   I’ve decided to let the pictures tell the story of my last twenty four hours in Sedona and reveal the magic.

  Our second hike on September 11^th was an early evening hike at Court Yard Butte.  It is not a rock that you can easily climb upon, so our trek was upon an adjacent trail.  This is the story that the rocks, the land, the people and the clouds told on that evening……….

 The last hike of the trip was a sunrise hike at Cathedral Rock. This hike brought us full circle as we had hiked by a stream adjacent to Cathedral Rock the very first night. Sunrise at any Cathedral is always astonishing however, in this venue; in these red rocks it is simply spectacular!

  As we neared the completion of our Cathedral Rock hike the group gathered at the same plateau that was our first destination of the morning.  I found it ironic we stopped here during our assent and also our decent.  Another full circle moment; our first hike was in full view and adjacent to Cathedral Rock and our last hike was on it.  We sat on that plateau in a circle.  We lay down upon the rock and let the sun infuse just a bit more light into our hearts.  This trip was about the heart, specifically about love.  Not romantic love but love of who you are; love of life; love of family, more importantly our universal family, mankind; love of all of the abundance that surrounds us and that we fail to see on a day to day basis.  Most importantly it was about loving ourselves.  When we love ourselves and understand who we are we can communicate and spread the simple joys.  There were so many years that I did not love myself. Actually, I had lost myself. I didn’t know who I was.   Now, I understand, I get it. I do my best to live it.

  So as the group sat and talked upon that plateau our guide pointed out the images that had been etched by nature upon that stone……yes, you guessed it……….heart shaped imprints were within the rock! 

  We did not want to, but we knew that it was time to make our decent from the plateau and head towards the parking lot.  As we neared the place that we would step off of the red rock trail our guide and her partner held up the opposite ends of a piece of a tree branch. One by one we each exited the trail beneath this arch, but we are connected by heart.  We arrived here as individuals and exited as a unit.

 After the hike we shared a final meal together.  Breakfast at the “Red Rock Café” was in order.  With the conversation flowing faster than the coffee we simply enjoyed being together.  Deep down, we knew that as natural as this felt, it may be a long, long time before we would all be together again. When we return to our daily lives we will be separated in distance, but always connected by heart.

  It truly amazed me that these people whom I did not even know existed five days ago were now weighing very heavily upon my heart.  When breakfast finished I said my goodbyes.  The words were heartfelt, the hugs strong and tears sweet.  Every single person on this trip had touched me.  But now, more importantly I had to say goodbye to the woman who I had instantly connected with, the person with whom I felt as if I had known for a lifetime (and maybe I did).  This is the person who became a friend in an instant and will remain one for life. True to her form, she made this easy for me.  Much like she did throughout the trip.  The hug was long, deep and full of emotion, then she said, “This is not good bye; I will see you again soon.”

 When breakfast was finished I returned to my hotel room to shower, change and pack.  I was driving to Phoenix that afternoon and flying out early the next morning.  As if this trip could get any better, I had plans that afternoon to meet the author of a book that I had read for a cup of coffee. 

  So I packed my suitcase in my rented red Kia Soul and headed towards the highway.   As I headed down the highway I glanced in the rear view mirror for one more look at the red rocks.  I was thirsting for a little more magic and a little more light I was thankful for the nourishment I received and for all the messages that were provided.     

Unlike other vacations where I left with a lump in my throat and sadness in my heart because it was over, I left Sedona with a full heart, no an overflowing heart.  There was no room for sadness, a throat lump, or tears. I felt good, really good  and I know that I will return.

 It has been a little over five weeks since I began my Sedona journey.  I am still nourished from the experience. Today as I put on my sneakers to go out for a lunchtime walk I was drawn to the red hue that is still evident in the laces. As I was tying my sneakers I recited one of my own quotes, “Sedona’s red rocks are embedded in my sneakers and socks, but more importantly they are embedded in my heart and soul!” And yes, in the midst of my life, I found the magic that makes my soul soar………….