We are at the start of spring- a wondrous time to celebrate new life. I know that I always welcome this time of year with open arms, especially after a long winter.
Having returned from Florida a week ago, I was relieved to see green grass, daffodils, and our blossoming peach trees. The sight of it warmed me and I was thankful for these blessings.
I had two weeks in sunny Siesta Key and though I’ve been there, done that for almost ten years, there was a difference this year. This is the first time I’d been away absent the role of caregiver.
The first week went by quickly. I languished by the pool, soaked up the sun, went shopping, and ate well. The second week was different. It was slow, rich with time, and well, restful. I drank it up in meaningful gulps, relishing precious time without pressure to get things done.
I read an entire novel. I made Greek green beans. Going through my favorite consignment store in Sarasota, I found a dress. Shells made their way into my take home pouch. I greeted the rising sun and prayed to the setting one.
I have finally reached a point that I have to tell myself- it is ok to relax. I’ve earned it, I say, though this is always a selfish thought. I have cared for others for forty years and it’s time to give thanks. I’ve done things to the best of my ability and with that, I am ready to move on.
I’m grateful to God for all my blessings. My family and friends embrace me with love and fill my heart with joy. I will travel again this month, to North and South Carolina. I’m looking forward to that.
Happy Easter to my Christian friends, Happy Palm Sunday to my Orthodox Friends, and Chag Pesach Samech friends celebrating Passover.
As most of you know, my mom passed away in January at the age of 92. It had been a long couple of months as we bravely tried to manage her decline. It was hard, bittersweet, and amazing. I have never been through anything like it in my life.
I’ve just returned home from Siesta Key, Florida, a place where my sisters and I began, seven years ago, to bring mom. We would rent a beautiful condo together and visit with my mom’s brother, his wife, and numerous others that she grew up with in her hometown of Stockdale, PA. Initially we stayed for one week, but it soon became evident that staying two weeks was the only way to go.
It is simply paradise there. There are palm trees, magnificent sunrises and sunsets, white sand, emerald green water. There are glimpses of dolphin fins once in a while and the lifeguard stands are brightly colored. People are kind and nice. Strangers say hello, ask questions, or just say good morning. It is a place for rest and rejuvenation.
Such is necessary after the long, two year pandemic, the quarantine, the worry that my mother brought me on almost a daily basis, and the reckoning of her passing. Her health began to fail slowly about six months ago. She wasn’t recovering as fast from set backs and though my sisters and I managed her health issues as the able bodied taskmasters that we are, my mother’s body was not compliant, not having it, and at times, downright defiant.
My mother had a desire to live, claimed she was not afraid of death, but in the end she succumbed to the failings of her body. We do not get to decide when we want to live or die, and this lesson became very apparent to me. I desperately tried to live in reality as I was watching her body slowly wind down, searching for signs that it really wasn’t going to happen, that it would all reverse, and she would regain another second wind.
The year before my mother’s passing was an educational one. My sisters and I investigated every possible scenario that we could, the goal being to keep my mother in her home. Hospice was a blessing. My mother repeatedly told us that as long as she knew who she was and where she was, she wanted to be at home. Respecting these wishes became our mantra and we did everything we could to make this possible.
There was a series of events that led up to my mom finally being admitted to hospice, and by admitted I mean she was allowed to stay in her home. Many doors opened at this point. It was about a month before her passing and I painstakingly listened to what the aides and nurses were telling me.
Your mother could be bed bound in two weeks. Practice tough love and get her a hospital bed.
Make your mother comfortable and give her the medications that have been provided for her.
No one wants to admit they are losing a parent. Watching those frightening moments of struggle, pain, and suffering, are not for the faint hearted. At any time we could have taken my mother to a hospital or in patient hospice, but we knew that was not what she wanted. We toughed it out.
Friends and relatives came to visit. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for them to witness my mom in her delicate state. Some felt more comfortable than others and I understood that. My sisters and I welcomed everyone who came. A few days before mom passed, her hometown family drove the hour and a half to see her. My sisters and I set the dining room table with the best linen, china, glasses, and silverware, the way our mother would have done for them. We prepared a simple lunch but it felt like a feast. Mom slept through the whole thing, but rallied near the end of their visit and knew they were there. It was a spiritual experience to watch her.
In the last few days of her life, my sisters and I hunkered down at mom’s. It was very bonding- we ate together, slept in shifts, greeted the hospice workers, and managed mom’s care as best we could. We walked her final journey, her last time on earth, with her. My sisters and I are all educated, over achievers, yet this was an experience that challenged us.
All of my worries over the past decade vanished at her passing. I’ve come to realize how much I had already grieved her loss in the last two years. When I would leave her, I’d picture the worst case scenarios- her falling and hurting herself, breaking a hip, being on the floor, struggling to get herself up any way she could. In those moments, I’d flip the picture and pray to God that she would have the peaceful passing she deserved and I wanted for her.
It happened. The traumatic incident that I prayed would not happen, never came. Instead, a gradual transition, a straddling of both this and another world, came into focus. Then slowly, the quiet slipping away to her departed family, where I’m sure they were waiting for her.
Mom’s 90th Celebration in Siesta Key.
I want to thank many of my friends and family who loved and cared about my mom. Her funeral was beautiful and I’m so glad that many cousins made the day a priority. Now comes the time when we rest, recover, and remember all of the wonderful memories, the wisdom, and the beauty that was Katherine.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was May 10, 1980 and I was at the VIP in Baden. Having just arrived, I turned down an offer to dance with my girlfriends and instead decided to sit down for a few minutes. I was wearing light green Calvin Klein jeans and a silky top.
In those days, I was selling cars at my dad’s Nissan dealership. I drove a 280Z to the VIP that night. But I’d worked all day and I’m sure I was just relaxing until the desire to dance kicked in.
At this same moment, my future husband saw me from across the room, sitting by myself at an otherwise empty table full of drink glasses. He later said, “I could have heard a pin drop.”
He came to the table and asked if we could talk. I told him to “keep walking.” I watched him circle the big room and come back to me again. This time, my Greek instinct for hospitality kicked in and I told him to sit down.
We spent the whole evening together. He wasn’t a dancer but we talked and played pin ball together (I love pin ball). He said he’d walk me to my car and on the way out, he picked up his fedora to go with the minty green leisure suit he was wearing.
As I arrived at my car, he asked if I’d like to do something fun. I said ok and gave him my work phone number. He called me every day for a month and I consistently gave him excuses why I couldn’t go out.
Finally he told me he was going to stop calling me if we didn’t get together. I agreed and we had a fabulous time. We went to Kennywood and a nice Italian restaurant called Pompeo’s. Six months later we were engaged. One year later, to the day, we were married.
Our rehearsal dinner was at my parent’s house, complete with a roast lamb on a spit. My mom and my aunts went over the top with all their Greek specialties- pastichio, stuffed grape leaves, and homemade pastries. My dad manned the bar with shots of ouzo for all.
The day we were married, May 10, 1981, was a Sunday and it was Mother’s Day. I remember my Greek Orthodox priest, Father Kiramarios, saying it was a day to honor all women. We had a big Greek wedding with lots of friends, a big cake from Keystone Bakery, and a three piece bouzouki band. The Barlamas family catered and everyone had a huge baked chicken dinner. My godparents and their family came from Charleston, SC. It was a day to remember.
Photography by Dan McConnell. Loved that beautiful cake by Keystone Bakery!
Six months later I was pregnant with my daughter, Michelene, and four years later my son John was born. Now we have two beautiful grandchildren, Gavin and Penelope Katherine.
The marriage ceremony in the Greek Orthodox church is especially beautiful. To Jim and I, marriage is sacred- a vow between two people, in front of God, to love and cherish each other. It is not to be taken lightly. In my career choice as a wedding planner, I always try to keep this in mind when I am helping my couples.
To have been married on Mother’s Day is a great blessing. When the time comes around each year, it is as though I am doubly blessed to have both so close together. My feeling about marriage is this- love one another, work things out, don’t give up, and seek help when you need it, whether from clergy or otherwise. Keep God in your life so you have a heavenly perspective on things.
Please bless us with your prayers for many more years together.
Joanne reflects on the wisdom of her three year old granddaughter.
Penny in her summer style.
Life lately has been a bit different. My son John, daughter in law Jessica, and my three year old granddaughter Penny have temporarily come to live with us. After selling their house in the East End of Pittsburgh, they are here until the process of buying their next home is complete.
Of course, when two families merge and share one full bathroom, it’s a bit challenging. But the fulfilling parts of being together far outweigh the minor inconveniences.
John and Jess love to cook whereas Jim and I, after years of it, could honestly care less. Previously resigned to simple meals, we now eat gourmet dinners practically every night. Wonderful fried fish, marinated chicken kebobs, pork medallions, creative vegetables, and delicious burgers. It’s truly been wonderful.
But the true bonus of living together is the joy of Penny. It is almost like experiencing my grandson and daughter (who lived with us for many years) all over again. Yes, at my age there are trying moments. There’s less alone time, more noise, endless toys. However the treasure of so much “small child” time is truly priceless.
For the first couple of weeks after their arrival, Penny and I would be up before anyone else. We’d take my coffee and her milk outside and watch the sun come up. We’d sit there, leaning against each other, and do very little. I figured she was tired so sometimes we didn’t even talk. Penny had witnessed weeks of packing and piles of boxes. Sometimes we just sat on the front porch, floating in a swing I had previously, barely used. Each of us with frosty bowls of strawberry ice cream, the joy of these moments is indescribable.
Penny has reminded me of the wisdom that nothing is really that important. She likes to take her time- what’s the rush after all?- and languish by dancing, singing, or talking to Jordan, our pet. Penny makes us all slow down. Discoveries can be made daily and she has marveled over the simplest things- butterflies, ants, flowers, bees, and birds.
I’m grateful for this time with my granddaughter that may never come again. If I’m feeling a moment of impatience, I only need to think of what it will be like when Penny has moved into her new house. That brings me back to the place I need to be.
“I do not understand the mystery of grace — only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us.” ― Anne Lamott
Join me at my first signature event- Refill Your Cup! I’m so excited to gather with such a great group of speakers and vendors, to encourage rest and relaxation. Here’s the LINK.
He demonstrated an entrepreneurial spirit that is with me today.
My Dad was one special guy.
Today is Father’s Day and twenty two years ago I received an early morning call from my mother. She said that my father had passed in his sleep, at home, just the way he had always hoped he would.
I dressed quickly and left almost immediately. I didn’t speed; actually I took my time and thought about my dad. He had not been himself the last few years of his life. Congestive heart had robbed him of his energy but true to form, he lived a year past the time the doctor had predicted he would.
My sisters, Dad, and me.
I grew up in a strict household. Dad did not allow me to date at a young age, be out late, wear provocative clothes or eye make up. It took me a long time to realize the things he restricted me from and how they have formed my character today. Rather than being resentful, I choose to view these things as blessings and am thankful for them.
Dad was a dynamic motivator. He was on the church building committee and stood strong about our need for a new worship space. At our centennial celebration a few years ago, the evening’s chair, Mr. P, told a story of how he and others went into the dirt foundation of the church (the only part that was started), sat on cement blocks, and listened how my father told them (under the glow of flashlights) that they needed to keep their enthusiasm up. This is an example of what an amazing team leader Dad was.
Owning his own business for years, Dad gave me a job when I really needed one. In the process, he demonstrated an entrepreneurial spirit that I carry within me today. Through good and bad times, he kept his business going and believe me, there were some tough times. He kept learning all of his life and was willing to adjust, try the new, discard the old, and be with the times.
My wedding day, May 10, 1981.
Honest to the core, he frequently resisted the temptation to twist, fib, or lie. He was very honest and at times it was to his disadvantage. However, his moral compass was firmly intact and he upheld a disposition of character and integrity. I hope that I even come close to this.
The older I get, the more I appreciate my Dad and the lessons he taught me. I’m sure, just like me, he had moments of indecision, defeat, and surrender. Yet he persisted. He continued on with his business, life, and his great love of God. Into heaven above, I thank him for all that he taught and gave me towards the life I have today.
Mom’s 90th Celebration in Siesta Key. Lots of family!
It was an event a year in the making. When we left Siesta Key in 2018, my mom began talking about her 90th birthday celebration.
For an entire year, we discussed every possible scenario. Should we have appetizers including Greek specialties, such as spanankopita or tiropita? Maybe we should keep it simple and just do cake and champagne? Or should we go all out and make dinner, serving pastichio, salad, and pitas?
The conversations were endless. Mom and I would have them in the car, at her house over coffee, and on the phone. At some point, we settled on champagne and cake. Then a few weeks before we were to leave, there were suddenly more options. Rent the community center, get a bouzouki player, get a caterer. In the end, mom made the final decision.
She wanted to have it in our beautiful condo. We had plenty of room and a screened lanai. My sisters made (from scratch) spanakopita and tiropita. They also did all of the shopping and created small plates of hummus, pita, kalamata olives, and feta cheese. They made a big salad and had two different kinds of pastichio. Cally decorated. Mary hung balloons.
There was debate over a cake. Cally checked with a bakery and a tiered cake was quite pricey. It was decided that we’d get three different Pepperidge Farms cakes. Mom is a huge PF fan. For almost every occasion, birthday or otherwise, mom will get a Pepperidge Farm cake. We decided on white confetti, lemon, and chocolate fudge flavors.
Before the big day, Mary contacted most of our cousins, asking if they’d be in Siesta Key during our stay. As it turned out, there were more than 20 of us there at the same time. It was simply magnificent.
There was laughter, happiness, singing, and eating. The champagne flowed. My cousin Steven created a beautiful book for mom with vintage pictures. Everyone had a wonderful time and we all have many treasured memories.
Near the end of our second week in Siesta Key, we were on the beach and noticed a wedding was being set up behind us. Lo and behold, the ceremony began and afterwards, the whole bridal party walked down the beach right past us! They stood in front of us, posing for the photographer. My sister Mary asked if Ashley (the bride) would take a picture with mom and she obliged! It was another magical moment.
I think we’ll be talking about this vacation for years to come. The memories we made there, the experiences of being together with family, are simply priceless.
Here’s the photography from the party and the wedding!
Getting ready for the party! What would we do without Aunt KC?Those delicious Pepperidge Farm cakes!Lots of candles, plenty of cake!Mom and Uncle JimMom and her brother, my Uncle SteveMarkella and TaylorThe CousinsThe Wedding Set Up, Siesta Key BeachThe Stunning Flowers (from Trader Joe’s!)Here They Come!Love on the BeachMom and AshleyAnother Wonderful Year!
My mom and the three of us, Me (L), Mary (Front), Cally (Right)
It is early in the morning as I am writing this. The view from my window is amazing. White sand, bright blue lifeguard stand, and people already walking on the beach. I am into the second week of a two week vacation, here with my family in beautiful Siesta Key, Florida.
I am 61 years young and this is only the second time in my life that I can remember having a two week vacation. The first was a trip to Greece, 11 years ago. I never thought it would be this long that I haven’t returned. I hope Greece is next on the list of two week vacations.
What does it feel like to take two weeks off? First, it feels self indulgent and I’m definitely not used to that. Then there’s a bit of guilt. My husband isn’t here, my sister in law is feeding the dog and watering my plants, and I miss my family. But, at the same time, there are twenty family members here, coming and going at any given time, and the closeness and comfort of that is simply grounding.
Beautiful Siesta Key Beach
When I turned 50, I wondered how I would get through the next decade of work and responsibilities. I was burned out, tired of pushing myself and yet, there was more pushing to do. I survived it and now I am fast approaching the time that I hope to do more of this.
If you’ve never had a two week vacation, I encourage you to do so. I bet you have the PTO (Paid Time Off) but you procrastinate it away. You tell yourself things like, “I’m so busy, I can’t take that much time” or “I don’t have the funds”, but I bet you could figure it out if you gave yourself permission. There are lots of ways to find a time and place to relax. You have to tell yourself that you’re really worth it.
Isn’t it all about that in the end? We can’t allow ourselves the judgment of what others will think, or say, when we announce that we’re leaving. Or we think what would I do with all that time? I’m one of those that have a hard time not having a list of things to do. But the health benefits of vacation time – both physical and mental- make it imperative that we do this for ourselves from time to time.
I wrote a post a while ago about taking a vacation and I think some of my readers scheduled one afterwards. Here’s hoping that this post inspires you to take the time to schedule that PTO (that you’re going to lose if you don’t use it). If you need a travel companion, give me a call.
PS. Even one week is beneficial. If you can’t do two weeks, at least go for one.
Celebrating my mother’s upcoming 90th birthday, together.
February 2nd was Groundhog Day and yes, Phil said we will have an early spring. I never quite get the shadow, no shadow thing. But yes, supposedly spring is not far away. That is good news.
This past week, many of us endured super cold temperatures. Here in Western Pennsylvania, it reached negative 6 which is quite a big deal. I worried about Jordan (my lab/retriever) every time she went outside, but she seemed to really love the snow. Usually she rolls around in it (brrr…) and even lays down. She’s one tough doggie.
Despite the cold weather, we had numerous days with sunshine. I can take the chilly temps if at least the sun is shining. I do my best to keep my mood up this time of year and sunshine really helps.
In May of this year, my mom will turn 90. To celebrate, my sisters, mom and I will be heading to Siesta Key, Florida for two weeks. We’ve gone for the last three years and always stayed for one week. I haven’t had a two week vacation since I went to Greece about twelve years ago.
When I was growing up, we usually went to Ocean City, Maryland for a week in the summer. My aunts and uncles would be there and usually we’d all stay in a big, three story ocean front townhouse. We were not rich but this was the one splurge my parents indulged in.
My dad loved crabs and beer; so did my uncles. They’d often pick up a couple dozen crabs from Phillips, already steamed and loaded with Old Bay seasoning. Parked on a picnic table on the first deck, they drink their beers and eat crab meat. It didn’t take long for me to learn to clean a crab. To this day, I can’t get enough of crab meat.
Back then, we used sunscreen barely and I remember there wasn’t much other than Coppertone. I remember getting pretty burnt a couple of times but we didn’t worry about that stuff back then. I could take a fair amount of heat in those days. These days, I’m a straw hat and beach umbrella kind of girl.
I seek out the sun and warmth whenever I can, wherever I can. If it’s too bright or hot, I will shield myself from it but I will never be that far away from it. Because it is the sun, and its warmth, that fill me with joy and optimism.
Penny, when she was almost one. Now she’s almost three.
It’s January and the holidays have past. How can that be? It seems like they came and went in the blink of an eye. So much anticipation, planning, gift buying, tree trimming, celebrating (I could go on and on) and boom, here we are.
Though it’s all over, there is something about winter. I don’t like the lack of sunlight, but I do love the quiet. It’s just yes, quieter. As I write this it is snowing and the plow truck has been going up and down my lane all evening, scraping the snow from the road.
When the temperature is above freezing, I love to go outside and pick up sticks. I have the luxury of making a small backyard fire whenever I wish. The smell is so good and Jordan, my trusty lab, loves to sit close. At age thirteen now, I think she warms her bones.
I am keeping my bird feeder filled up as best I can. There are three squirrels at least that are stealing the seed, hanging upside down acrobat style, and getting whatever they can out of the small holes. Sometimes I bang hard on my window and they go running off like the caught bandits they are. Other times, I let it go, thinking they need to eat too. As long as the other birds keep coming (and they do), I’m ok with it.
Norja V
I’ve been writing, cleaning, lounging, hibernating, staying in touch with friends, and generally doing the best I can to do nothing. Honestly, that’s the truth. I turned 61 in November and I can feel the tide changing. I’m no longer as motivated to push myself. It’s too much work and for a person who has pushed herself forever, I am working at just being. It’s not easy.
So I start with hibernating. I leave my jammies on a little extra longer in the morning. I don’t try and cram my schedule full of stuff to do. If I don’t feel like cooking much, Jim and I eat grilled cheese sandwiches. I pick and choose what I want to participate in.
I am not rich. But I am beyond wealthy when it comes to friends, family, and my spiritual life. I was surrounded by my close family, cousins, children, and grandchildren over the holidays. So many of my friends do not live by their children or grands. Blessed is how I describe it.
Over the years, I have worked at being fully engaged. In my home, I do my best to invite, cook, decorate, and be of assistance. Someday it will be my children’s turn to do this. I am already feeling it will be bittersweet. Though I look forward to it, I know I will let go slowly. I will offer to help, to bring something, and supply grocery gift cards when needed.
And I’ll do my best to cherish and enjoy every moment.
“So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13
It’s chilly here and there is snow on the ground. A couple of weeks ago, I went to the supply store for sunflower seeds, mindful of my seasonal duty to the local feathered friends. Every year, about this time, I begin the daily chore of loading up my bird feeder. It is a small price to pay to see the cardinals, blue jays, chickadees, and other birds that visit me all winter. The sight of them cheers me. This year I bought a double sided suet feeder and the woodpeckers really love it.
Carol Carpenter
Jim usually orders dried corn for the deer. Years ago, when we first met, he was a hunter and fisherman. He still fishes occasionally but since our daughter was born, he hasn’t had the desire to hunt. Frankly I’m grateful. I don’t give anyone a lecture who hunts but I love deer and I will tell you why.
Years ago I went through a transition of sorts. If you have read my book, I needed a bit of help to get through a difficult period. In my darkest moments, I would go outside and there would be a deer in my back yard. Sometimes it was a stag, other times it was a doe or even a yearling.
After multiple sightings, I started to think this was a sign of the presence of God. How else could I explain that there was a deer every time I felt darkness? Often times the animal would look straight at me. I wasn’t afraid; I felt it was there for me, reassuring that all would be fine.
Over a period now of twenty years, I still consider deer to be a sign of the divine. Just a few days ago I marked the two year passing of a close friend. I remember the day he left this world like it was yesterday. He had been very sick and the C word was making its way with his liver.
I arrived home late one afternoon, in early December, and three deer were eating the leftover remnants of my summer garden. As I drove up the driveway, they were only a few yards away from me. Out loud I said, Something’s up. And they didn’t leave when they saw me. They merely stopped eating for a second, looked at me, then went back to their dinner.
A matter of one hour later and I get a bug in my ear and try to call my friend. I was pretty sure he was in the hospital. The call went straight to voice mail. The next morning I received the news. He had passed about two hours after I saw the three deer.
I cried a bit at the memorial when I saw pictures of my friend, flashed on a screen in health and sickness. In some of the photos, he was full of life. As the montage proceeded, you could see the toll the disease had taken. It was evident. I had not realized how fast it had happened.
Forward fast to a couple of months ago and I have another worrisome thought going and I swear this time I asked God to send me a deer sign. I drove up the back road to my mom’s house, often a treasure trove of deer reassurance, and nothing. I breathed a big sigh and thought ok, I’m on my own with this one.
Eventually, I came to terms with my worry having finally figured out that it was ludicrous (yes, I actually used that word in my head) and I should let it go. Finally, two days later I go to see my granddaughter and two minutes before her house, there is a small herd of deer (not one, but probably 8 or so), on the road, literally looking at me through my car windshield, only a few feet away.
I half expected them to come up to me and say something like, You are nuts, You worry too much. But they seemed overly concerned with how to get back into the field as there was a long, large fence (this is protecting a cemetery) and obviously this was their priority.
As the herd walked past me, I thought of God and how He always delivers. He never lets me down. He is there for me.
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