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.
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.
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.
I have been in the most beautiful seaside town for the past week- Emerald Isle, North Carolina. It is through the graciousness and benevolence of friends that I am here.
It had been a few years since I spent time with the Atlantic Ocean. Though I went to Nantucket a couple of years ago, it was too cold to wade in. When I go to Siesta Key (Florida) in March, I’m on the gulf side.
Having been raised on vacations in Ocean City, Maryland, the Atlantic Ocean is like an old friend. The sound of the waves and salty air are familiar. When I stick my toes in the warm sand, it’s as if I’ve come home.
On this vacation, I left my family behind. It’s a relatively new experience for me. There’s no one to take care of here (really) other than myself. I’m aware of trying to be a help- making breakfast, setting up a pot of coffee, loading and unloading the dishwasher, etc- but it is not mandatory. I’ve chosen not to go out to dinner a few times, embracing the peace and quiet that’s left behind.
Dare we (who are so busy) strip away our responsibilities on purpose? Who are we when we are not mothering, working, worrying, anticipating, or stressing? We are wrapped around our identities like the wrapper on a lollipop. It’s a challenge to strip that away, let ourselves relax, and enjoy the nothingness of vacation.
Getting up at the crack of dawn to see the sun rise is challenging. Yes, when we set no alarm clock the temptation to sleep in is oh, so strong. I did get up early several times, mainly because I normally do; I’m a rooster who likes to be up with the sun. One morning, I sat on the deck with my coffee, eagerly awaiting the dawn. As the first rays began to appear, I couldn’t resist the tug to get down on the beach. The first time, I was dressed in only pajama shorts (with watermelons on them no less) and a Bette Midler t-shirt. I said to my friend John, “No one will care how I look.”
It was profoundly quiet except for the sound of the waves. As I watched the sun come up, a feeling of being one with God came over me. No one and nothing else, in those few moments, mattered. It was just me and my creator. I wasn’t afraid. I was silenced and humbled by the simple magnificence of what I was witnessing.
I started walking and met a 5 month old yellow lab and his mom. DJ was very interested in me and let me pet the top of his head. A man with a tripod and camera was setting up a shot with a conch shell and a starfish. I thought, “Buddy, you are missing the point.” The sunrise was so gorgeous and I hope he took the time to notice it.
I probably have fifty sunrise and sunset pictures at this point. Laughing, I tried to eliminate a few but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Each one is slightly different. I love them all.
Have you made your getaway plans yet? I hope you do!
My friend Kathy and yours truly, at Phipps Conservatory in Pittsburgh, PA.
My friend Kathy joined the #60 Club last week. Yes, she is at the magical, beautiful age that encompasses six decades of life. A couple of weeks ago, Kathy’s daughter Jesse told a few of us that she wanted to have a surprise party for her mom. We all love Kathy so of course we were ready to help.
I offered to be the decoy person. While I took Kathy out for the afternoon, Jess and her friends would get the house ready for the party. I considered my duty an important one. Kathy and her husband have a weekend place near the woods that they like to go to. I was worried she would just tell me no, she was going to camp. I sent her a message, “I would like to take you for a girl’s afternoon to celebrate your birthday. Please say yes.” Thankfully, she agreed!
On Saturday morning, I picked Kathy up. After some typical Pittsburgh traffic jams, we landed for breakfast at the Square Cafe. We both had a delicious meal and a big glass of cold brew coffee. Kathy loved the coffee and I think she’ll be a huge cold brew fan now! Square Cafe is exactly as I remembered it with great staff, pleasant atmosphere, and good food.
Next, we stopped at Le Mix in Regent Square. Just a few doors down from the Square Cafe, this little gem is filled with all kinds of stuff from your grandma’s era. It was so cool to walk around and see trinkets and treasures from the past. There was a $5 jewelry table filled with necklaces, earrings, and bracelets so we couldn’t pass up that opportunity!
After Le Mix, we headed to Phipps Conservatory! Jess told me that her mom always talks about going there but she never makes it! So Phipps it was and we both loved it. We walked around, gazing at gorgeous flowers and plants, taking pictures and breathing all the wonderful scents. Phipps is having a motion and sound event and it’s well worth seeing.
I was watching the time closely. We drove back home and everything was ready. As I pulled into the driveway, everyone yelled Surprise! Jess did the party in a Mexican theme and it was so colorful and fun. There was a taco bar with all the toppings and of course, a big cake and singing!
Kathy and (L) her two granddaughters, Ava and Charlee.
Dear Kathy,
Thank you for spending the day with me. It was truly wonderful. I hope you will enjoy being #60 as much as I have (so far!). May we have many more years together in friendship.
Most mornings I have been opening the windows in every room in my house. A few months ago, a good friend of mine told me she opens her windows every day for twenty minutes. Mind you, she told me this in the dead of winter and (no kidding), I tried it a couple of times. I shut the heat off and opened the windows.
It was exhilarating to say the least!
My friend Daleen told me this practice exchanges stale air for clean air and I can believe it. I have asthma and the winters are hard on me. I’ll try anything that can help me breathe.
Now that summer is here, it’s definitely easier to practice this concept. It’s been very hot here (for Pittsburgh that is), around 90 degrees, so I have to open the windows as early as I can. But even this little bit of time feels beneficial.
My favorite thing about this “window time” is hearing the birds sing. They chirp their delightful melodies, over and over again. It never gets old. My daughter bought me the coolest bird house for Christmas and there’s a small bird nesting in it. I’m not sure what the variety is (a wren?), but its song is so sweet.
If it’s raining when I open my windows, that’s a bonus. I love the sound of rain.
In addition to opening windows, I love taking the time to be outside in the morning. My friend Cathy came for a visit a couple of weeks ago. Three out of four mornings together we sat outside, in unmatched plastic lawn chairs, and had our coffee. I donned my old straw hat from Hydra, Greece, a relic from ten years ago, and a necessity for bright Pennsylvania mornings.
So, picture this. A warm, bright sun. Two women, sipping coffee, sitting in old chairs, watching this small brown bird going in and out of a cool birdhouse. Me in my old hat, Cathy in her colorful beach caftan. Yes, I am lucky and blessed. We talk and talk about anything and everything. That is really some priceless stuff.
I think that opening my windows and connecting with nature is a deeply spiritual thing. It is a chance to touch base with God and be inside of myself. Sometimes I turn music on but most of the time I’m content to revel in the quiet. I try and keep my efforts to a minimum in those moments. That time is really for me.
I think this window practice can be done by anyone. Obviously, all you need is a window, or an outdoor spot, and a willingness. Exchanging the air can only be a good thing; fresh air is for everyone. I notice that if I add outside time to my window ritual, my day can take on a whole new meaning.
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