Lorelei

Mystery Tour of Sonoma County

 
We went to a wonderful fundraising event in August for Ceres Community Project, a  local charity that teaches teenagers how to cook healthy food and then delivers that food for free to patients with life-threatening illnesses in the community.  At the event, we bid on a trip with 25 other people to travel through the backroads of Sonoma County.  It was billed as a mystery tour so we did not know where we would be going or what we would be doing.  As it turned out, each stop we went to was a place that donated to Ceres.

We ate extremely well all day.  Here is a sampling of some of our foods:

The tour happened yesterday and both my husband Michael and I had such a fabulous time.  We go on tours for vacation, but this was our first tour of the area where we live. We live in one of the most beautiful places on earth.  It was a glorious Indian summer day with the high in the low 80's and not a cloud in the sky.

We started out the tour in the Ceres Kitchen with a delicious brunch and sharing favorite family recipes.  Then, we got on a bus to go to our first stop, Redwood Hill Farm.

I love their products, especially their yogurt and their blueberry pomegranate acai kefir.  Here they are pouring some for us:

It is  a true family operation with brothers and sisters running it together and they really love their goats.  It was inspiring to see how they treated the goats with dignity and care and put them out to pasture to live their life in retirement when they are too old to milk.

This baby goat was only a few days old.  I had never held a baby goat before and they are so friendly and cuddly.  What a joy!

Of course, I had to try my hand at milking.  It was fun to try and not as hard as I thought.  Although, I can see why they have milking machines--alot of work!

My husband, Michael, tried his hand at it too.

Here they are with the more practical milking machines.

Next we went to Whoa Farm.

Work Horse Organic Agriculture Farm is a non-profit that is dedicated to serving people food in Sonoma County who cannot afford it.  Their farm is right around the corner from where we live and we never knew they were there! They served us delicious pizza made in these beautiful ovens.

Then took us on a tour of the farm:

and we played some games...

bocce ball and horseshoes...

On to our next stop, Taylor Maid Farms Coffee in Sebastopol.

We had a wonderful tour of the facility and learned how coffee was made.  We saw the process of starting with raw beans and then roasting them is this huge roaster:

and then once all the water was out, dumping them out..

The smell was divine.  Then we did a process called "cupping":

They laid out the beans on a large table.  Then, they filled the cups with hot water and we smelled the different flavors:

Then we tasted them.  Everyone went home with a one pound bag.  I am not a coffee drinker, but Michael had his first cup on his espresso machine this morning and said it was delicious.

We finished off our day at a small farm called Grow Kitchen where we had dinner and learned line dancing.

We cooked our own sausage. Our team made goat sausage with rosemary, garlic, paprika and a splash of white wine.

and barbequed it --delicious!  We ate it with paella and salad.

We finished off dinner with a fabulous dessert-

Gluten-free chocolate nut torte with homemade vanilla ice cream and blueberry compote.  Yummmm.

All in all--a great day with a great group of people for a great cause.

 
A special thank you to our hosts, Padi Selwyn and Reuben Weinzveg, and the whole Ceres community.

Fifty-eight

I was looking at the post I wrote last year when I turned fifty-seven and it was pretty darn good if I must say so myself.  I was in the throes then of dealing with my mother's illness.  Mom has since passed on October 13, 2012 and much of my fifty-seventh year was dealing with the pain of her passing and the raw grief that was never far away.  Of course added to that is the vulnerablity of knowing I am next in line.  I have written alot about that in here, but fifty-eight feels like a fresh start.  So, even though the pain of my mother's death is still with me, it is time to turn over a new leaf.  I know in my heart, she would like that.  She would want me to fully live.

After three months of illness--colds, virus, flu, chest congestion, and general exhaustion, I started feeling better finally the end of June and it felt it my heart like time to celebrate--celebrate health and being alive.

Fifty-eight feels like a year of celebration and opening up to the new.

The first thing I opened up to is new hair:

The decision to stop dying my hair was not an easy one.  One day when my hairdresser put the dye on, my whole body said no and I realized it was time to stop.  At first, it was not easy to accept the gray.  It took a long time for the dye to leave.  But then, when all my natural hair came back, it felt like welcoming back a long, lost friend whom I had missed deeply.  It has brought me great joy ever since.  I love you hair!  Plus it is way less expensive and so much easier to care for. 

Someone asked me what it feels like to be fifty-eight and my main thought was that I am happy to be alive.  That is something to celebrate.

In the last month, I also celebrated:

Reuniting with friends from high school after forty years.

Our country's birthday.

My grand nephew Gary's birth.

My classmate Karen's National Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf certification.

And of course...

My week long birthday celebration which included a spa day, trip to the SF Giants baseball game (and they actually won!), lunch with friends, dinner with friends and family and a piano, cello, viola, violin and bass concert at the Green Center.

More celebrations to come....including our 30th wedding anniversary and Michael's birthday this month...who knows what after that?

Life offers so much to celebrate and I am grateful to be a part of it.  I don't know what is around the corner, but I am looking forward to it.

Growing up with Becky on Princeton Place

My dear friend Becky, now Rebecca Heaton Turner attended the fortieth high school reunion with me.  Last Saturday morning, July 13, 2013, we decided to explore the street where we grew up across the street from each other--Princeton Place.  On the top is the house where I grew up, 11 Princeton Place, and the bottom is the house where she grew up, 16 Princeton Place. The older pictures from the year we were there--1960' and 70's are on the left and the newer current pictures  are on the right.

I spent the first 8 years of my life on 1077 Jackson Street (above) before we moved, the summer before my 4th grade year, to Princeton Place.  We went from a tiny, less than 1000 square foot house to a huge southern mansion.

Our subdivision, University Heights, which you can see in the upper left of this photograph, was designed in the early 1900's by Edward Garner Lewis.  Each street was named after an Ivy League college--Yale, Princeton, Amherst, Dartmouth, Columbia, etc.

Here is a closer view of the beginnings of Unversity Heights.

This is what is says in the University City archives about the picture of our new home.

 This Neoclassical style house at 6970 Princeton Avenue (originally #11 Princeton Avenue)in University Heights #1 was built between 1906 and 1907. The first owner was C. W. McFarland. By 1908, the house belonged to Mrs. E. B. Robinson. Her sons, Vernon and Earl Robinson, were the owners of the Robinson Fire Apparatus Company, and manufacturers of University City's first motorized fire truck. The house was pictured in Lewis' publication "The American Woman's League and University City," published in early 1908.

One of the homes on Princeton Place still has

the carriage stone to help you get into the

carriage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here we are (on the right) last weekend exploring the street where we grew up forty years later.  I did not have any pictures of Becky and me from those days.  She was kind enough the last few days to take the time to dredge some up for me.  What treasures!  I love this one of me pushing her on the tire swing.  We were both the oldest.  Becky had two younger brothers, Hud and Matt.  I had a younger sister, Karla and a younger brother, Kermit.

On the top left, I am hidden behind the girl with the glasses and Becky is second from the left.  On the top right, is me with Jill Garber.  The Garber family moved to Princeton Place several years after we moved in and our families were very close.  They had seven children.  The bottom left is a Hawaii themed birthday party for Becky in her backyard.  Becky is playing the ukelele and and I am in the center with the red and yellow flowers.  On the bottom right, it looks like I am appalled at the dancing, which surprises me.  I loved (and still do love) to dance.

In addition to Jill Garber,...here are four more of the seven children not including Claude Israel who is on top, their foreign exchange student who was living with them for one year.

Jeremy

Jill

Naomi

Daniel

Jessica

 

 

Not included are:

 

the oldest--Jody and the boy in my class of 1973,

 

Judah.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is Judah Garber playing chess with my Dad inside our home. 

And here are Karla's friends (from left to right ) Sue Rolfe, Caroline, and Naomi Garber dunking for apples in our backyard pool.  Our house and backyard were well used as play areas for us.  You can see the rope swing behind them.  We also had a rope hanging from our ceiling in the living room and two balance beams and mats to do gymnastics. I remember roller skating in the front entrance hall.  Mom planted raspberries in the front yard which outraged the neighbors, but I thought it was wonderful.

Anyway, back to Becky and me...we walked to school together every day from 4th grade to high school.  Delmar-Harvard, our elementary school, was just down the block.  But, Hanley Jr. High School and University City High School were over a mile away.  When I say every day, I mean whether is rained or snowed. (That is how I remember it anyway).  I remember those terrible midwest ice storms that would leave the streets covered with ice.  We would never know when we would hit the slick ice and lose our balance.  When we turned sixteen, we did not have our own car to drive and leave at school.  We walked still.  Becky moved away for our senior year of high school because her father got a job as an organist in a church in Pittsburgh.

Here is her father, Charles and her younger brother Matt in front of their home.  You can see our home in the background.

 Here is the path we used on our way to school that cut through Lewis Park.  Lewis Park holds wonderful memories for me as well.  It was right across the street from our home.

The top picture another is one that Becky sent me.  We are not sure which year it was taken.  Somewhere in the late 60's, early 70's.  Some of my favorite memories in Lewis Park are in the winter time when we would sled down the snow covered hills and ice skate on the pond as they are doing here.  Ice hockey was very popular. At night, they would build a bonfire in the center of the pond and it felt like magical winter wonderland to me.

The bottom picture is one I took last weekend.

Last Saturday, as Becky and I wandered through the neighborhood reminiscing, we stopped to take pictures in front of her home.  There was a man outside watering the lawn.  We explained that we had lived in the neighborhood 40 years ago and her offered to let us come see the inside of Becky's house.

     As soon as we walked inside, we both started welling up with tears--so many memories...

-the beautiful black and white checkered floor
-the oval wooden shelf near the door frame where there is a statue now, but where Becky's family had their rotary phone
-Becky playing "Moonlight Sonata" on the piano in the back sunroom
-Becky running down the stairs so we could go out and play
-eating lunch with her in the breakfast nook

Parts of the house had been remodeled, but parts of it remained exactly the same.

The Heaton family had always been so warm and welcoming to me and there were so made good memories that I have here.

I am so grateful that Becky and I took that hour last Saturday to wander down memory lane.  It was so much fun to immerse myself in nostalgia, appreciate growing up in a beautiful neighborhood and cherishing a special friendship.

 

Class of 1973

Here is the high school I went to in Unversity City, a suburb of St. Louis, Missouri.  I found out during the tour we took last weekend that it was built in 1912.  They celebrated the 100 year anniversary of this building last year.  I went back last weekend to St. Louis to celebrate my 40th high school reunion.  There have been reunions every ten years and I have attended all of them and enjoyed them.  This one, however, felt incredibly special.

Maybe it is because I am getting older and am more appreciative of the simple things, like having my health and enjoying the blue sky and the flowers.  Maybe it is because I got the chance to get to know some people better in the last few years on Facebook who I didn't know that well in high school and then got to see them in person.  Maybe it is because my husband, Michael, came with me for the first time and he got along well with my friends and their spouses.  There was definitely something magical about this reunion.

The first night, Friday July 12th, was at a local sports bar owned by a U City alumni.

It was packed full of people with alot to say.  I really enjoyed seeing everyone again, although it was challenging to hear.  I wish more people knew sign language!
There are so many interesting people in our class with such a variety of different lives.

There were about 100 people there --maybe more?  It was great fun to try to talk to everyone and catch up, but also an impossibility in a few short hours.  All of us in the above picture went to the same elementary school, Delmar-Harvard, which was closed two years ago due to declining enrollment.

What I remember the most about Delmar-Harvard was the tree on the playground.  They had built the whole playground but left this one tree standing.  I loved that tree.  When I heard they had cut it down, I cried.  I was happy there and remember enjoying my classmates.  One of the favorite activities was for people to get married under the jungle gym.  But, I did not have any desire to do so.

I went to Hanley Jr. High School and the memories there were mostly not good ones.  It was an awkward and confusing time.

Things changed for me in high school due to a combination of reasons.  I started folk dancing at the local community center. I also joined the American Field Service (AFS) and was very involved with foreign students from other countries including, Japan, Germany, Switzerland and France.  Claude, the student from Paris, and I became very close and I went to visit her right after I graduated and spent the summer of 1973 in Paris.

Here she is shown with her host family, the Garbers, who lived down the street from us.  She is second from the right.

But, I really came into my own when I discovered acting and music.

On the bottom left, was the drama teacher, Jane Johnson (standing next to classmate Sandra Gruenberg) who believed in me and told me I could act and of course my beloved music teacher, Larry Thomas, who spent countless hours before and after school (as well as during shool hours) teaching all of us to sing.

Here he is in the blue shirt second from left.  This picture was taken last year.  I remember him when he was much younger:).

On Saturday, July 13, 2013, the reunion committee  organized a guided tour of the high school. 

Alot of the school was remodeled, but here are the old lockers as I remembered them.

Here is our group on tour in the cafeteria...

and the library...

and finally the music room...  Every morning I would get here at 6:30 am for early morning chorus and I looked forward to it.  This room is on the fourth floor and I remember looking over the rooftops as I sang.  We sang the most beautiful songs.  I was crushed when they told us we could no longer sing the Hallelujah Chorus because it was too Christian.  It broke my heart.  I loved that song!

Here we are--altos, sopranos, tenor and bass reminiscing about old times.

Then, we went down to the auditorium which is being remodeled.  All the old wooden seats are replaced with nice new plastic ones.  I have such wonderful memories here.  I would come here every day after school to practice for hours.

My senior year I was Miss Barrett in "Up the Down Staircase" memorialized in the catacombs with spray paint.

And our senior musical "Sweet Charity" where I played Charity.

Here I am with Harry Gornick...

and with Sioux Rafky and Earl Beeks.

Here are Earl and I standing on the same stage 40 years later last weekend.

The Saturday night event took place at the Highland Clubhouse in Forest Park and a great time was had by all.  Jay Dearing was a wonderful Master of Cermemonies as he took us to back to what was happening in the world in 1973.

Here is Harry Gornick second from the left..and lots of great friends who all went to Jackson Park elementary school together.  I went to Jackson Park K-3 and Delmar-Harvard 4-6. 

Becky is a loyal and committed friend and I was so blessed to live near her and have her as my friend through elementary, junior high and high school.  She left after her junior year to move with her family to Pennsylvania.

Us and the Griffins. It was great to get the chance to get to know Donna better and our spouses got along famously.  You can see the booklet on the table in gold that has all the bios of people telling their stories for the last 40 years that Sandy Nelson Marsh and Joel Iskiwitch put together.  That was so fun to read!  Sandy even brought in her son to DJ for us. The flowers were arranged by Becky Ballard.  Beautiful job.

Some of the women at our table, (from left to right) Maxine, Donna, Vicki and me.  What a great group of women.  Vicki put together our Facebook page and did a fabulous job.

Larry Harris, also in the class of 1973, is a relative on my mother's side. Jon Hurwitz, on the left,  is a relative on my father's side.  His grandmother and my grandfather are siblings. It was such a treat having time to catch up with him.  We had not seen or talked to each other for 40 years.

I had not seen Deborah (Buchanan) Ahmed in 40 years either.  She danced with me in Sweet Charity and is still dancing.

And here is the whole group of us .....There were so many people I wanted to get the chance to talk to and connect with more, but there was just not enough time...And for those who did not get the chance to attend, you were missed.  I feel so loved and accepted by this group of people.  There is a strong sense of community that helped to give me the confidence and security to successfully launch me into the life I have now.  For that, I am extremely grateful.  

It takes a tremendous amount of work to put on an event like this.  Thank you to everyone on the committee for all of your efforts.  In looking at the slides of people in our class who have already passed on, I remember that life is precious and I don't want to waste a moment that is left to me.

As I look back at my 18 year old self...

Not a wrinkle on her skin--full of exuberance and excited about her future.  It is hard to believe 40 years have gone by.  I do not feel any older inside.  If singing, dancing and acting brought me such joy in high school, they will continue to do so and I need to do all of them more.

Thank you Class of 1973 for everything.  I love you all.

Loving St. Louis

I remember when they first built the arch.  I was in fourth grade and we all stopped to watch on a little black and white television when they put in the last piece.  It was quite an engineering feat.

We all watched in awe as this giant crane dropped the last piece in place.  St. Louis--Gateway to the West.  For me, however, the gateway to the west was never enough.  I was drawn to go further west and after I graduated from college with a teaching degree, I followed the call.  I drove in my van all the way across the country interviewing for teaching jobs as I went.

I went the southern route and my favorite stops were:

 (from left to right)--Turner Falls, Oklahoma which is a park with two miles of glorious waterfalls ending in one huge waterfall with a deep pool; Dallas, Texas to see my Uncle Danny Hurwitz and his family; Santa Fe, New Mexico--I loved the energy of that town; Ashland, Oregon; and finally Applegate Valley with the beautiful Applegate River before the Applegate Dam.  When I drove into that valley, it felt like coming home.  I remember singing at the top of my lungs and chills running through my body.  I got a teaching job there and moved west and never looked back.

This trip to St. Louis July 11-14, 2013 felt different than any trip back to St. Louis  had before.  In stark contrast to my trips in the last several years to deal with my father's and then my mother's illnesses and subsequent passing, this trip was to celebrate my 40th high school reunion and the success of my nephew, Josh, in receiving his masters degree and driving across country with his friend to start a new life in California.

I was shocked when I arrived to find the weather absolutely gorgeous. I don't remember July in St. Louis as gorgeous.  My memories were of having brown outs because of the extreme heat and sitting in a room with the door closed to keep in the air conditioning with wet washcloths on our faces.

I spent the first night going out to dinner at an outdoor cafe with my dear friend Ophelia.  We sat outside and enjoyed the glorious weather and caught up on each other's lives.  Barcelona Tapas is a Spanish tapas restaurant in Clayton, Missouri and the food is delicious and amazingly well priced.

Ophelia is the one who was there from the moment my Mom had a stroke making sure she got the best care possible.  Mom could not talk after the stroke and she and Ophelia had this amazing connection where they could communicate without words.  With her special connection to Mom, she has become a special person to me.  Love you Ophelia!  Thank you for all you did for Mom.

Friday morning brought a special breakfast with my sister Karla.  Again, I was able to walk from my hotel to the restaurant.

 

We shared a delicious breakfast and had time to really connect about important things that are going on in each other's lives.

 

 Love you sis!

Then, on to lunch with my cousin Neal who was so generous and helpful and involved during my Mom's illness.  It was great to be able to treat him to lunch and thank him as well.

During our breakfast, my sister told me that President Obama's favorite pizza place is in St. Louis and Michael and I had to check it out.

We had a delicious dinner at Pi Pizzeria in the loop in University City.  As the story goes, when Obama was in town campaigning, they sent Pi pizza to his hotel room.  He was so enamored with the pizza that later on he flew the owners out to Washington D.C. so they could make it for him personally.

We chose the thin crust and not the deep dish.  Since we are on a gluten-free diet, we justified there would be less gluten that way.  It is hard to tell from this picture how good it was.  Believe me--it is amazing.  My taste buds were blissed out.

The 40th high school reunion of my alma mater University City High School was more emotional and nostalgic that I could have predicted.  I will write more in depth about that later.  I do want to say that high school was a really fun and exciting time of my life--especially my senior year.  It was great to remember that and to celebrate that with so many of my friends.

On Friday afternoon, I took some time to go to the cemetery and see my Mom's tombstone along with my other ancestors. 

They just installed the tombstone a few weeks ago.  I thought they did a beautiful job.  The stone is Missouri red granite and I loved the color and how they left the texture on the top rather than make it smooth.  We had a verse from one of Mom's poems put on the bottom of the stone.  The Hebrew has her Hebrew name and then it says "daughter of Emil and Edith Probe", her parents.  I think she would approve.

On Saturday, I had lunch at my dear friend David's house who was also the doctor who took care of my mother during that difficult time last year.  He was there for me during the most stressful times, always answering his phone.  Most of the time, there was little he could do except give me his love and support which he did freely and often.  On this day we had a relaxing lunch and then time to chill in his outdoor pool.

Here he is with my husband Michael and his dog, Scruffy, who loves to swim.

We got out of the pool, changed clothes, and went to my sister Karla's house to have a special send off party for my nephew Josh.  Josh is a very intelligent, talented young man.  He just got his bachelor's degree in May and then his masters degree in July from UPenn.  Like I did so many years ago, he was driving across the country to the west coast.  Only he already has a job waiting for him in a start up company in Silicon Valley, California.

The whole family gathered to wish him and his friend Teddy "bon voyage" as they started on this new adventure.

There was a feeling of coming full circle as I wished my nephew well and shared in his excitement of starting a new phase of his life.  My dear friend Selwyn Hotchner, who passed last year, told me when I was chomping at the bit to leave St. Louis to never underestimate the power of roots.  There is something magical and elemental about the area where you are born and raised. His words rang true for me this visit.  I am not leaving California.  I have made my home here and will always love it.  But, there will always be a special place in my heart for St. Louis and all the people I love there.

 

Grace, Grief and Gratitude

Grace: A spontaneous gift from God to humans-generous, free and totally unexpected and undeserved-that takes the form of divine favor, love and clemency. 

I agree with everything in the above definition except the word undeserved.  I totally believe that everyone, myself included, deserves grace. 

I have felt grace with me the past months since my mother's death. 

Caroline Myss is one of my favorite authors and here she discusses grace:

Our society is weighted in favours of what’s wrong, what’s in pain, and what’s missing in our lives, as opposed to what’s right and what is enough. No commercial has ever been made that has told the public, “You probably already have more than enough. What else do you need?” The decision to consciously “drift into a field of grace” acts against a raging psychic current in the collective unconscious that continually reinforces the negative in our lives. Because that psychic field is so strong, the choice to dwell in grace has to be reinforced again and again until it becomes second nature to you. And then your second nature will gradually take over and that grace will take hold.

I believe that grace is finally starting to take hold in my life.  It has come recently with:

• attracting exactly the right work into my life
• being overcome with joy or grief and allowing it to flow through me
• learning how to heal myself in ways that serve my body well

One of my New Year's Resolutions was to "tap into the love that is within me and is the essence of all that is".  That love is with me more thorugh this time of deep grief after the loss of my mother.  It surrounds me and lifts me up daily.  To me, that is the ultimate grace.

 

Grief:  Deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death. 

Most people don't want to talk about grief.  It is too painful or uncomfortable.  After you bury a loved one, you are given a few days and then expected to move on.

Karla McLaren talks about how embracing grief takes you into the deep river of the soul. She says: 

When the river of your soul takes your weight unto itself, you can release that which has died into the next world--so that you may live more fully in this one. 

Taking that full weight of grief and allowing myself to mourn is what I have been doing--honoring my mother's death and the profound loss that is in my life.  The grief comes and goes, and when it arrives, I acknowledge it and let it in.  The pain is real and there is also with that a feeling of living life more deeply.

I don't want to imply that grieving is easy.  It is one of the hardest things I have done in my life.  I have been sick and exhausted and full of anguish and miserable.  It is hard to hear when Oprah talks about how the person is still there in spirit and you just have to have a different relationship with them.  Yes. I know my mother is within me, but she is not physically here. That is not the same--nowhere near the same.  At the same time, there is something about the work of grief that transforms me into a different person and I like this new person. It has carved out a space in me that allows me to feel the river of my soul.

Gratitude:  A feeling or attitude in acknowledgement of a benefit that one has received or will receive.

I have practiced gratitude for years, but lately it has felt flat.  When I wrote in my journal I was reaching for things to be grateful for and when I wrote them down it felt perfunctory and terse.

That is, until I read the most recent book by Melody Beattie. 

It may sound contradictory, but writing down everything that I am grateful for including things that may be construed as negative or complaints gives voice to my struggles and restores my energy and hope.

Like:  being grateful that my insurance company denied my claim two times and could not give me a reason why and said they will put it through again and this time it should go through and I was really angry and frustrated and could not stand it and then the third time it did go through and I am grateful even though it should not have taken so long.

Or: being grateful that after many weeks of being ill I got frustrated that my Chinese herbs were not working fast enough and went my regular doctor's partner.  He prescribed anitbiotics for me that were very similiar to penicillin and the pharmacist said there was very slight chance they could have the same effect as penicillin, which in my case would be death, but I should take them anyway because the chance was very small.  (I did not take them).

Somehow getting down to the nitty gritty of all the deeply buried anger, frustration and fear and allowing myself to feel it allows me to finally let it go and feel more deep and sincere gratitude for all my blessings.  I am not Pollyanna and never will be.

None of us live forever.  I knew that intellectually, but Mom's death brings mortality  into focus.  One day I will die, God willing, before my children and they will not have a mother.  That is a fact.

But, for now, I am still alive. I have this moment to be with my children and to fully live my life and for that I have deep, everlasting gratitude.

 

Blueberries for Breakfast

 

I have not baked for many years until I recently discovered gluten-free baking.  I dusted off the muffin pan after retrieving it from the back of the cabinet excited to bake again.  Yesterday when I was in Costco, I found organic blueberries, the biggest I had ever seen. I couldn't wait to make my blueberry muffins and shake.

Did you know that the USDA Human Nutrition Research Center on Aging reported that blueberries help protect the vascular and nervous systems, and especially the brain from free-radical induced aging?  Wow, that is a mouthful.

I am sure it helps the flavor in the muffins when I use my delicious vanilla that I just brought home from Mexico.

Here is my favorite breakfast.  Both these recipes are from my new cookbook:  Meals that Heal Inflammation by Julie Daniluk.

Grain-Free Berry Muffins  ( I think they should be named --Gluten-Free Blueberry Muffins)

2 1/2 cups almond flour ( It is very expensive in the store.  I bought a 5 lb. bag online from Anthony's Almonds and it is cheaper and better quality.)
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp sea salt (I use about half that)
1 tbsp cinnamon
1/2 cup virgin olive oil
1/2 cup honey
1 tbsp pure vanilla extract
1 cup blueberries or raspberries fresh or frozen

(I know you can use raspberries, but who has raspberry muffins?  Blueberries and muffins just go together)

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 300 degrees.  Line a standard 12 cup muffin tin with paper liners.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the almond flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon.  Add the oil, eggs, honey and vanilla to the dry ingredients and stir until the batter is smooth.  Using a spatula, gently fold in the blueberries just until they are evenly distributed.

3. Divide the batter between the muffin cups.  Bake the muffins on the center rack for 35 minutes, rotating the pan after 15 minutes.  A toothpick inserted in the center should come out clean.

4. Let the muffins stand for 15 minutes and then transfer to a wire rack and let cool completely. (I don't do this part.  They smell too good.  I eat them right away.)  Store muffins in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Makes 12 muffins.

 Yummm.

And to go with it..

Blueberry Hemp Smoothie

Hemp provides healing omega 3 fats and a special omega 6 fat (called gamma-linolenic acid, abbreviated GLA) which helps balance the hormones.  Who knew?  God knows, I could use more balancing. 

2 tbsp hemp seeds
1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries
1 cup unsweetened almond or hemp milk
1 tbsp raw honey (They sell raw honey at Trader Joe's.  I didn't even know there was a raw honey before this.  Why do we think we can improve on what the bees do?)
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 tsp cinnamon

Combine all the ingredients in a blender and blend until smooth

It tastes good and it is good for you.  You can't beat that.

Learning More about the Mexican Culture

Five people now have told me that I speak really good Spanish.  I smile and say "muchas gracias", but really my Spanish is not that good.  I think they just really appreciate me trying to speak the language.  I love languages so that part is really fun for me.

We decided to take a tour with ten other people up in the mountains here--the Sierra Madre--out in the countryside to see how the people live.  We were the only gringos.  Everyone else was from Canada.  Two people only spoke French and our tour guide was from Egypt.  He gave the tour in both French and English.

The first stop on the tour was the Botannical Gardens. 

 

 

 

 

The grounds were beautiful and lush.  There were also some beautiful orchids.

 After enjoying our tour we went way up in the hills to a small Mexican town called "El Tuito". 

  Here is our tour guide, Mustafa showing us El Tuito on the map.  The town is actually famous for its cheese which we tasted.

 

Here I am in the very small room where they make the cheese. 

It is a very simple process done the old-fashioned way.  We tried some cheese on hand made tortillas.  We saw how they made the tortillas by soaking the corn, smushing it, rolling it out and the cooking it.

Here is the town square:

There were no cell phones and very few cars, just people sitting in small shops waiting for business.

 The main building in town was the church.  It was quite beautiful.

 

 

 They are decorating and getting ready for Easter.  They actually closed down the tortilla store early because it was Thursday and they were celebrating "Dia de los Santos".

It was such a different world for me, and it gave me a sense of what their lives are like out in the country.

Next, we moved on to a small back road and then onto a dirt road to see the petroglyphs.

 The rock is underneath this roof and our guide told us it was more than 10,000 years old.

 

 He encouraged us to touch the rock and said when we touch it and put our hands over our eyes, many people see colors.  I did not see colors, but as soon as I touched it, I felt the rock pulse beneath my hands.  I asked Michael if he felt the pulsing, but he said he did not.  I was fascinated with the feeling.  There is alot of power there and it confirmed for me that everything is living and has energy.

 We moved on to a hacienda where they served us a delicious lunch. 

 They also showed us how they make the traditional Mexican drink or "moonshine" called "raicilla".  It is 45% alcohol--veeery strong.

I enjoyed our day in the Mexican countryside.

Private tour of Puerto Vallarta

We met a cab driver here named Gustavo who offered to give us a private tour of Puerto Vallarta. We met up with Gustavo on Wednesday March 27 at 10 am.  First stop was to drive down hotel row and see the boardwalk downtown.  Here is the town symbol for Puerto Vallarta--the sea horse:

The next stop was "Gringo Gulch"--an amazing array of small cobblestone streets with homes up on a hill overlooking the ocean.

These orange flowers are called "earring flowers" for the way that they hang down.

We also saw the house where Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton lived in the 1960's when they came here to film "The Night of the Iguana" and decided they liked it enough to have their own place here.

After that, we went up in the hills above Puerto Vallarta to a little town called Conchas Chinas with the most amazing views.

We went to a tequila factory which I wrote about in my previous  blog here.
Then, we went to lunch at a really delightful restaurant called "Chicos Paradise".  When we got there, we were escorted to a table with the most amazing views of this beautiful river and waterfalls.

Then we noticed this man diving off the rocks into the water below.  He did a double somersault.  That shocked us.  We saw all the people with cameras recording the show.  For his final dive, he did the dive blindfolded.  We watched him put on the blindfold.

And then dive headfirst into the water.

Luckily, he came out unscathed.  We found out he has been doing this show for years and gave him a big tip when he came back up the the restaurant.

Then, our lunch arrived--oh boy--it was one of the most delicious lunches I have ever had with all fresh local fish.

After lunch, we came back down into town and checked out the flea market or what my friend Sherry Hicks calls--FLEA.  It went on for many blocks and there were lots of fun things to choose from.

I was with my husband, the salesman, so he was going to get a fair price.  He did not put up with any nonsense.

All in all it was a very fun day and I felt like I really got the feel of the area and a chance to interact with the culture and the people.   

 

Making Tequila the Natural Way

We drove into Baston del Rey on our private tour of Puerto Vallarta today and I was very impressed with what I saw.  Here in this small local factory, they make tequila the natural way with no added sugar or chemicals. As we got out of our taxi, we saw people riding horses and chickens running around in the backyard.  It was an idyllic country scene.

They start with the blue agave plant.  It grows wild in the hills up above Puerto Vallarta--thousands and thousands of them.  They also sell blue agave syrup there as a natural sweetener straight from the plant.

 

They take the root of the plant--which takes 8-10 years to grow-- and they put it in a huge pit.

They toss it in the pit and cover it with volcanic rocks and them smoke it for three days.  They do not burn it, they gently smoke it keeping in all the flavor.

Then they cut it up and crush it with this huge rock.  They still use a donkey to push this rock around this huge circle.  It is truly the old-fashioned way.

Then they put it in the distiller where they can separate the different alcohols--methanol, ethanol, etc.  They take the alcohols that are too high and too low out and just leave those in the middle.

It takes a year or two to age the tequila but it can't sit too long or the oak from the caskets permeate the taste.  They import the caskets from all over the world including Sonoma County where we live.  The best caskets we were told, were the ones they import from France.  The tequila can stay in there the longest without it affecting the taste.

Here is my husband, Michael, tasting the tequila.  I don't drink alcohol, but he said it was absolutely--beyond words--amazing.  The tequila that is mass produced with sugar and chemicals burns your mouth as it goes down.  Pablo, our tour guide, says they use the "lime trick" to try to combat this whole issue.  This tequila needs no lime.  You feel it in your throat and it is incredibly smooth going down. 

Here is their premium bottle which we are bringing home.  Ok friends--don't bang down our door!  Unfortunately, you cannot buy it unless you go to the factory itself, but here is their website if you want more information.

www.bastondelrey.com

Even though I don't drink, it was so refreshing to see people who still do things the natural, local way.   I want to support that.

Healing Myself

I am really amazed that as I put out to the universe the request to be healed, many good things have been pouring in. 

Meditation

Silence is very helpful.  As I meditate and rest, I feel a great sense of peace.  I have a fresh new commitment to my practice of meditation.  Part of that is due to two wonderful books that came to me:

Eben talks about his near death experience where he experiences heaven.  What I loved the most about this book was his description of heaven and meeting God.  He emphasized that this energy is possible for us to expereince here on earth.  He uses Hemi-Sync, which is an auditory system with sounds that brings the energy of theta waves to your body.  These theta waves put me in a super relaxed state when I am meditating and make it easier for me to access that blissful place of unconditional love.  I also signed up for an internet workshop which had more auditory material he is sharing.  I am looking forward to that.

Tara Brach brings the Buddhist teachings of mindfulness to difficult situations.  Just the idea of true refuge is healing to me.  It is so tempting to try and find true refuge outside of myself, but there is a certain emptiness there, and a deep sense of satisfaction in finding it within.  The challenge is I am my own harshest critic and so often it is challenging to find true refuge in me.  Tara was just diagnosed with a debilitating disease at the same time she divorced her husband.  She certainly understands pain.  She suggests that to soften the edges of the response to pain that I say to myself "I consent" and several other phrases (one of my favorites is "May I be held in lovingkindness") and that starts to lessen the resistance to the pain. Now when I get up in the morning and that inner critic starts in, I remember a phrase from her book and start repeating it to myself lovingly.  She has many different magical ways to add imagery to my meditation that I have been enjoying experimenting with.  My favorite chapter so far is called Cultivating Mindfulness in Difficult Times.  Here she discusses the practice of RAIN.  RAIN has a lot of meat to it and I haven't tried it yet so I don't feel like I can explain it. I love having it in my tool box. If you are interested in finding out more about RAIN, get the book.  It will be worth your while.

Healing Foods and Drink

A third book came to me when to help with my commitment to eat better.  I was eating very well for several years, but lately, I fell off the wagon. 

This book does not pull any punches.  It tells it like it is.  Many of us are allergic to foods, but we crave the same food that we are allergic too.  She has a system for eating those foods one at a time to see which foods you have alleriges to.  For most people, it is sugar, wheat and dairy. I know that is what I am allergic to.  When I eat those foods, one of my allergic responses is retaining water and that makes it difficult to lose weight.

What I love about her book is the idea that some foods acutally heal your body.  She has a whole section on infusions. Instead of tea bags, I bought some real licorice root, ginger and other delightful smelling herbs and put them in a real teapot to steep.  The whole process feels healing and they taste sublime.  I can feel my body sighing with pleasure as I drink them.  Some of her recipe suggestions just plain don't taste good and some are yummy.  The bottom line is that she speaks the truth and I am willing to listen and remember that it is important to feed my body healing food and drink.

Purging and Organizing

I brought home eight boxes of Mom's things and went through all of them.  I organized things into scrapbooks of family history and picture albums and recipe books.  I decided what to keep and throw away.

I felt so much better getting all of that organized that it inspired me to organize some of my own boxes out in the garage.  I found certificates, writings, and letters from my children, myself and my husband and I poured through those and put them into files and threw out a ton of stuff.  There is something very healing about organizing and purging.  I feel lighter and more at ease.

 Personal Trainer

 

I am not terribly overweight, but I feel like if I lost twenty pounds, I would feel so much better.  I have been exercising five to six days a week, but have not lost one pound. I have been noticing a small dynamic woman at my gym with a long black ponytail down her back and tattoos on her shoulders. One day, I ran into her in the locker room and she offered me a free introductory session.  She told me that I have not been pushing myself enough. When my next paycheck comes, I am investing in one session a week.  In the meantime, I am doing the aerobics and weights she suggests.  I still have not lost any weight, but my body really likes it.  That is a step in the right direction.

Resotorative Yoga

When I was looking around for yoga classes, most classes felt wrong for my body.  I have several injuries.  None of them are that big by themselves, but traditonal yoga felt too stressful.  I discovered restorative yoga.  There is a night class offered that my friend Heidi teaches.  She alternates the delicious postures with very slow yoga moves.  The combination feels just right for my body.  I am delighted to discover restorative yoga.  It feels like a long-lost friend. 

Soul Collage

I also joined a soul collage class which I am thoroughly enjoying.  Soul collage is cutting out pictures from magazines that appeal to you and putting them on 5x7 cards.  Then, you go through a practice of communicating with the images on the card to have a conversation with yourself.  The class is taught by a wonderful teacher called Mirabai who travels through Europe teaching this in the summers.  It is being offered the next few months in Sebastopol, California.  You can find out more information about the class here.

I loved the whole process of cutting and pasting and exploring the images.  I also discovered so much about what was going on inside of me.

The first session I did five cards and here is one of them:

 

This is Lorelei, the part of me that I named this blog for.  I did not know it was Lorelei until I started interacting with the card.  I first met Lorelei when I went to Hawaii with a group of women on May of 2005.  It was inspiring interacting with Lorelei and her main message to me was this:  Take time to process your inner depth.  It will help you access what is next.

I am excited to find out what is next, but at the same time while I am healing myself, I find joy is creeping in around the edges and the present moment feels pretty good.

Resolutions and Gratitude for 2013

I am looking up other people's resolutions to try and get inspired.  Some don't apply to me like "having another baby".  No.  Definitely not.  Or "stop smoking".  Thank God I never started.  Other ideas do hold some appeal like:  "make health a priority by drinking more water and eating less sugar" or "try to volunteer for causes".  Only I would take out the words "try to" because I have learned over the years that means I am not going to do it.

Here are my thoughts on my resolutions for last year:

1.  Write more in this blog.  I did well for a while and then really got waylaid when Mom got sick and then died.

2. Lose 15 lbs.  I don't even want to talk about it.

3. Stop Worrying.  NOT.

4. Let go of my ego and allow my higher self to lead my life.  I don't think so.

5. Actively love myself more.  I have made improvement in this arena.  I am very happy about that.  If I only had one resolution to make, this would be it.  Loving myself also helps me love others more as well so it is a good thing all around.

 I am currently reading this awesome book by one of my favorite authors, Angeles Arrien.  Her first chapter is about new year's resolutions.  She says: There are four concerns of life: love, death, power and time.  Love speaks to our desire for union; death raises questions about destiny and letting go; power challenges us with issues of vulnerability; and time forces us to see our lives in terms of a play, drama or story...The love in our heart calls us to be deepened and to release what no longer serves us. Our renewed power has an opportunity to open to our vulnerabilities and possibilities.  Our relationship to time challenges us to trust and reprioritize what is most important for us to address and accomplish during the day.

Wow.  That is alot to chew on.

 

1. Tap into the love that is available out there and in me that is the essence of all that is.

I think a key part of loving myself and others more is being able to tap into the intense and overwhelming love that people talk about in near death experiences.  People have different names for it and they have a hard time describing it, but I know it is out there and like the sun it is always shining.  Often, I get too caught up in my life and forget it is there.  I think the best way to access this love is through quiet and meditation.  I need to make more time for both of those things.

If the death of my mother has taught me one thing, it is that life truly is short and every moment counts.  I feel a sense of urgency that I have not felt before.  Death also means letting go and surrender.

2. Lighten up and have more fun.  Growing up, one side of my family had a great sense of humor and the other side had none.  I am not known for my sense of humor and I tend to take myself extremely seriously.  This year I want to let go of being so serious and let in more "joie de vivre".  I want to watch more funny movies, tell more jokes and laugh more.  Laugh alot.  One of my favorite people, Martha Beck, has a " laugh per day" or LPD goal.  She says children laugh as much as 200 times per day.  She suggests that the absolute minimum for adults is 30.  I have my work cut out for me on that one.

 

3. Stay connected to my own truth regardless of what other people think.  I am too concerned with what other people think.  I want to remember to check in with my own heart and if it feels right to me, speak my truth and follow my heart.

4. Stay in the present moment.  Each day is full of interesting things.  Often the unexpected happens.  I don't want to miss it because I am up in my head thinking of something else.  Life is too precious.  Eckhart Tolle and Ram Dass know what they are talking about:)

In keeping with her title Living in Gratitude, Arrien also suggests expressing gratitude for the four quadrants of life.  I have always felt that gratitude goes hand in hand with resolutions.  It is hard to separate the two.

Work/creativeservice. I am grateful to have consistent work that I love and that has meaning for me.

Relationships: friends, colleagues, and family.  I am grateful for a spouse that I still love living every day with for 29 years and counting.  I am grateful that my children doing well as they march into young adulthood.  I am grateful to have good friends that I enjoy spending time with and colleagues that I enjoy working with.

Finances and Right Livelihood.  I am well taken care of.

Health and Well Being.  I am grateful to have a Dr. Men who is an extremely talented healer, Robert who is an awesome bodyworker, and Paul who is an amazing therapist on my team.

And finally Arrien talks about blessings, learnings, mercies and protections.

A family to love

A home to nest in

A gloriously beautiful place to live

Health

Work that gives me a sense of purpose

  

Trust and honor myself

Appreciate and cherish every moment

Let go more often

Love more freely

Lighten up

 

Mercies and protection given and received are something I need to think about more and are possibly too personal to share here.  I want to include them so you can think about them too. 

Finally for my last new year's resolution...Arrien talks about entering the new year with childlike wonder and curiosity.

5. Be open to looking at the new year with fresh eyes and a blank slate.  Rainer Maria Rilke says it best "And now we welcome the new year, full of things that have never been."

Lorelei: 2012 in Review

Looking back on 2012, it was definitely not an easy year.  I was diagnosed with cancer and I lost my mother.  In January 2012, I was feeling very healthy and my Mom was doing fine. There is nothing like having your morality brought front and center.  Still, despite all the challenges and difficulties, it was a year of tremendous learning and growth.  I am eager for a new year and a fresh start and I find myself appreciating each moment of my life more than ever before.

January 2012

January found me attending a huge New Year's Eve party with my husband and two children in San Francisco.  We watched our friend playing a saxophone in a wonderful band.  I set my New Year's resolutions that are hard to measure like--  Don't worry, be happy and loving myself more (I am not going to mention lsoing 15 lbs.:)) Looking back,I have made some progress. The emotions internet workshop I took in April with Karla McLaren really helped me to stop being a "blame shrine" and love myself more.  I was also helped by my favorite book of 2012--The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer.  He taught me some strategies to let go of my negative repeating thoughts and bask in the love of the universe.  Those were two fabulous resources from this past year.

 February 2012 

I went in for my first full body skin check and there was a spot the size of a pencil eraser that the doctor assured me he didn't think was cancer but he was taking a biopsy "just in case".  It was melonoma and they operated the next week.  They got it all out and I did not have to have any radiation or chemotherapy--thank God.  It was very scary waiting a week to find out.  I really became familiar with fear.  I have a huge scar on my upper thigh, but I am alive.  At the same time, my Mom got a pacemaker and was put on medication because her heart was beating too fast and too slow.

March 2012

 

My husband Michael specializes in nuclear power clean up so when the opportunity came to bid for cleaning up Fukoshima in Japan, his firm was interested.  Knowing he would be going to Japan soon, we both signed up for a 12 week course of Japanese.  We had a delightful teacher and learned about the culture as well as the language. We learned the three different kinds of bows- slight, medium and deep.  We also got workbooks to practice writing the characacters.  It was alot of fun.

It was also the month of the infamous car accident where I rear-ended someone and then got a rental car.  I left the rental car running in my driveway to run inside my house to get something and didn't realize it was not in park.  It backed out of the driveway, went backwards across the street and banged into a tree. Oy, did I feel stupid.  Luckily, we had rental car insurance so we walked away without paying a penny. We have gotten rental car insurance every time since.  Lesson learned-stop rushing around so much and take the keys out of the car before I get out.

April 2012

 

In April, my Mom had a stroke and could no longer talk or walk.  My dear friend Selwyn Hotchner died at 85 years old.

May 2012

 

 

In May, after visiting my Mom  in St. Louis, we took our planned vacation to Hawaii.  The first week, we stayed just the two of us on the Big Island.  We got to see the amazing Volcano National Park.  Then, we met our friends David and Jeff on Kauai and enjoyed the beauty there for another week

June/July 2012

In June, I took on the power of attourney health care for my Mom and spent many hours advocating for her to get the best health care possible.  She had physical,occupational and speech therapy and round the clock care.

For July 4th weekend, Michael and I visited my friend dana lee in Ashland, Oregon and saw the July 4th parade.  Then, I flew back to St. Louis again to take my Mom out of the hospital and put her in the nursing home.  She was dealing with a terrible staph infection and needed two more weeks of antibiotics.

August 2012

I celebrated my 57th birthday and 29th wedding anniversary.  I had a two different luncheons with friends and went out for a wonderful day in San Francisco with my husband. We went to a play, stayed overnight and then the next day went to the Saturday farmer's market (one of my Mom's favorite things to do) and then went to the SF Giants baseball game.

September 2012

In September, I went with Michael and my friend Grace to the opening of the Green Center in my hometown of Rohnert Park.  This amazing concert venue took many millions of dollars to build and was modeled after the famous Tanglewood concert hall in Massachusetts.  We sat outside under the stars and heard the famous pianist Lang Lang.

October 2012

On October 13, 2012 my Mom died.  I arrived in town the night before she passed but was not able to see her before she died.  She died early in the morning on October 13th.  We spent time together as a family mourning and celebrating her life.

I took time out from grieving to watch Game 2 of the World Series at AT and T Park in San Francisco.  Our beloved Giants went on to a four game sweep of the Detroit Tigers.

November 2012

 In November of 2012, we went to St. Louis for our first Thanksgiving without Mom.  It was good to have the support of family.

December 2012

In December, I spent time going through boxes of Mom's things.  I framed these beautiful watercolors of hers, put together a scrapbook of her favorite recipes and also a picture album of my ancestors. 

I am currently in Albuquerque spending the holidays with Michael's family.  I am still working through the emotions of losing a parent and also focusing on cherishing every moment with family who is still here and precious to me.  I look forward to the new year of 2013 and a fresh start.

Mom left the legacy of her poetry.  Here is a poem she wrote in 2009:

 

I want to die
performing the bridge
over the river’s swirling
currents below,
back arched higher
than eternity,
hands firmly entrenched
in sand,
arms firm as caster bean stalks
as i watch a rare pairing
of blue herons soar,
lightening the sky.
I feel the lowly but busy
ants tickling my hands,
in the sand,
hear the rustle
of the current as all the blood
drains into my head,
brain exploding
with the scent of
sweet alyssium
and aromatic asters.
Clouds arching
mirror my movements
as  fingers reach deeper
to feel the clams wriggling
beneath their holes
on Deer Isle Maine.
I twist my palms
around the twigs of
rose myrtle as my toes
dig into seaweed,
eyes piercing the jungle
of white caps in the sky
as life flashes like
torrents of clouds
and all anger seeps
into the sand like trees
rooted in the soil,
knowing the oldest prayer
is still in my finger tips.

 

Mom's Favorite Recipes

Mom was health conscious with her food choices way before it was popular.  She always loved fresh, organic vegetables and fruit and joined a food co-op in St. Louis so she could get the freshest produce.  She also loved the farmer's market at the loop in St. Louis and shopped there regularly so she could get everything fresh and of the highest quality.  One of her favorite things to do when she visited Kermit and me in San Francisco was to go to the Saturday morning farmer's market.  On her last visit here, we went there and then cooked a scrumptious dinner with the fresh fruits and vegetables at Kermit's house.  She would often write poetry and essays about the food she ate.  I remember one specifically about picking fresh asparagus on Aunt Miriam's farm in Virginia and then steaming it up for dinner.

Here are some of her favorite recipes:

Mom's pancake recipe is famous.  When I would visit St. Louis, we had a ritual where I would go over to her house early in the morning.  We would swim and do yoga or qigong together and then she would cook me these pancakes.  I can't eat regular white pancakes any more after tasting these.  They are absolutely deeeelicious.

Whole-Grain Pancakes

2/3 cup buckwheat flour
1/3 cup white gluten-free flour
1/4 cup ground flax seed
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander, cardamon and cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 large eggs separated
2 cups milk and plain yogurt combined ( You may need to play around with how much plain yogurt to get the right consistency)
3 tablespoons ghee
blueberries and bananas (optional)
Optional toppings: plain yogurt, fresh fruit compote, and of course 100% maple syrup

1. Melt the ghee.  In a large bowl combine flours, sugar, baking powder and spices.

2. Beat the egg whites until stiff.  In a separate bowl, beat milk, yolks and ghee until foamy-- a couple of minutes.  Add milk mixture and give a couple of stirs.  Do not overmix.  Fold in egg whites and stir until batter is evenly colored and relatively smoot.  A few bumps are OK. 

3. Heat a large skillet (preferable cast iron) or griddle overf medium heat until a few drops of water dance on the surface.  Use a thin film of neutral oil (grapeseed or corn).  When skillet is hot, spoon batter into pan.  Add fruit.  Cook until bubbles pop and form, about 2 minutes.  Then carefully flip pancakes.  Cook another minutes or two.

Yield:  At least 6 servings

One of Mom's favorite foods was quinoa, a special grain.  Ophelia, Mom's caretaker, cooked this for her often.  At the end of life, it was one of the only things she would eat.

Black Quinoa Asian Slaw

Ingredients

For the slaw:
8 ounces black quinoa
2 cups water
2 cups red cabbage, shredded
1 cup snap peas, bias cut
1 cup carrots, shredded
1 cup scallions, bias cut
1 mango, diced small
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
Sesame seeds, toasted, to garnish

For the dressing:
1/2 cup orange juice
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
2 tablespoons fresh ginger, minced
1 teaspoon Sriracha sauce
1/4 cup sesame oil

Instructions

1. Rinse black quinoa under cold water until water runs clear.  Place black quinoa in boiling water and simmer for 12-15 minutes.

2. In a small bowl combine orange juice, rice wine vinegar, ginger and Sriracha sauce.  Slowly whisk in sesame oil to create an emulsion.  Set aside to incorporate flavors in dressing.

3. In a large bowl combine black quinoa, red cabbage, snap peas, carrots, scallions, mango, and cilantro.

4. Fold in dressing and let chill in fridge. When ready to serve, garnish with toasted sesame seeds.

 

Lentil Soup

Mom's note:  This lentil soup always cooks faster than I expect it to and lasts fresh for days.  Just freshen each time with added wine, grated cheese and fresh basil or parsley.  It's always a success.

1 1/2 tablespoon oil
1 1/2 cups onions
2 cups lentils
2 cups cold water
2 small cooked potatoes-diced
1 large carrot grated
1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil
2 cups fresh or canned tomato juice
4 cups shredded spinach
1/2 cup white wine
grated hard goat cheese
sprigs of fresh basil

Sautee onions in oil.  Add lentils and water.  Boil, cover and simmer on low heat until lentils are tender ( about 2 hours).  Replenish water as necessary. Add remaining ingredients.  Cook unil spinach wilts and turns dark green.  About four minutes after mixture returns to a boil, stir in wine.  Serve with grated cheese and fresh basil.

10 servings

Spirits of the Ancestors

When my Grandma Edith (my mother's mother) died, the only item I wanted from her apartment was the first picture she painted at 75 years old.  I still remember going over to her apartment and people were running around claiming different things of value.  I sat on her bed and felt her spirit there and told her how much I loved her. 

Then, I walked up and took this painting off the wall.

Many years later during an art class, I was flipping through a national geographic from the 1960's to find pictures for a collage I was doing and I found the picture of an Indian woman that Edith used to make this painting from.  Finding that picture felt like a message from her that she is with me and I have taped that picture on the back of the painting.

When my father's mother Eva died, I inherited a painting that is an original painting from the 1600's of Nell Gwynn.

Nell Gwynn was a woman who sold flowers in front of the theatre in London.  She became the mistress to King Charles II and went on to become a famous actress in London.  Grandma Eva believed she was Nell Gwynn in a past life and had always loved this painting which she bought in an art gallery in New York after World War  II. 

After I remodeled my home, my interior decorator was helping me hang the pictures back up, when she told me she could really feel the spirits of my grandmothers with me as she hung up the paintings.  It means alot to me to have these paintings and I feel like it is a special way to access their spirits in my home.

So, when my Mom passed a couple of months ago, I wanted to have something that she painted up on the wall.  I finally got the chance to go to the frame store a few days ago and have four watercolors that Mom painted matted and framed.

 

I am very pleased with how they turned out.  The writing for the picture on the bottom left says: "First prickly cuke 6/07".  She loved to garden and cherished the vegetables, herbs and flowers she grew.  I wasn't sure when I hung the pictures if I would feel my mother's spirit the same way I did my grandmothers, but I clearly do.  It brings me a feeling of solace to have her pictures here in my office--a piece of her within arms reach.

Thanksgiving without Mom

I have spent the evening going through boxes of photos, newpaper clippings and tapes from my mother.  This photo that I found is one of my absolute favorites.  It captures her dreamy look as well as her stunning beauty.  I found so many treasures in the boxes including a tape that I sent to her of my son Adam when he was two.  On the tape he sings "Old MacDonald has a Farm" and "Bingo".  I also found a tape of my wedding which I didn't even know she recorded.  I listened to the whole ceremony.  I heard my friend Susan Freeman sing "Sunrise, Sunset" and Michael and I say our vows to each other.  There are so many treausures that I did not expect.

Mom died on October 13, 2012 after a brave battle to recover from her massive stroke on April 22 of this year.  She was ready to go and died peacefully.  We had Thanksgiving in St. Louis without her there.

My first cousins once removed, Chuck and Myra, hosted the Thanksgiving dinner at their home and my sister Karla was the hostess with the mostess. 

Of course, it did my heart good to see them both and all the rest of my family.  And...it was clear to all that Mom was missing.  There in spirit, but not in body.

 

 

 

Here is my Uncle Marvin, my Dad's younger brother who is the reigning "patriarch of the family", showing his special card that marked his spot where the patriarch sits.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I also spent time with my dear frined Bev.  She joined us for Thanksgiving.  She turned 84 in July and is working on selling her condo so that she can move to southern California to live with her son Bradley.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, we went to an open house on Saturday with my friends Daivd and Jeff.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I also had a chance to see my dear friend Kathy Knoke and share memories and support each other during this time when we both have had a recent loss.

It was great to see everyone and, of course, it felt strange not having her there.  It is so hard to fathom sometimes that she is really gone....

I was greeted this week with many boxes of momentos that Mom has saved over the years.

There is alot to sort through--newspaper clippings, love letters between my grandmother and grandfather, tapes and CDs, and of course lots and lots of photographs.  It feels like such a big responsibility to decide what to keep.  I do not take it lightly.

And then once I keep it, where to put it all.  Scrapbooks? Photo albums?  Will people read it?  Look at it?  Will they care?  I want to make sure and label it so the next generation knows who they are...

There are some pictures where I don't know--relatives looking up at me in sepia colors.

I guess right now the most important thing is that I care and I want to preserve the memories for the next generation so that Mom and all of her efforts are not forgotten.  One life. One person. But a special person...to me.

Magical Moments with Michael

My husband Michael and I have had many magic moments since the day we met.  I don't remember the exact day, but I do remember where we met.  It was approximately 34 years ago and I had just gotten the job as a sign language interpreter at Scenic Jr. High School in Central Point, Oregon (now called Scenic Middle School).  Michael was teaching English there. I saw him first from behind.  That first sighting of Michael was definitely magical.  My first thought was that he had a cute butt and it was a definite deja vu, like I knew him from before.  He seemed familiar even though I had just met him.  We ended up joining the same car pool and driving from Ashland to Central Point together.  Our first phone conversation was magical as well.  I called him to invite him to a party and we ended up talking over two hours on the phone.  We mostly discussed the school system and our ideas for how it education could improve.  We were both passionate about our beliefs and young and idealistic.  But, the thing I remember most about the conversation is how interesting it was to talk to him and I knew if I dated him, I would never be bored.

Our first kiss was under the stars in front of the little mother-in-law studio where I was staying in Ashland. I fell hard and fast.  It was after we had attended the party together that I had invited him to.  I knew again that this was someone special and I was not going to let him get away.  Our relationship always felt "right" from the very beginning--like it was destined to be...we were destined to be...together.

After dating for a time, we moved in together and one day we were both sitting on our ugly vinyl couch. It looked sort of like the picture above, but uglier, much uglier.  I could not find one ugly enough.  Anyway, we were talking about not being able to find work in Oregon and how we probably would have to move and wouldn't it be nice to have a wedding with our friends in Ashland and all of a sudden ( forgot which one of us said it) we talked about getting married.  I remember we were holding hands and his hands got cold and clammy.  But, we agreed it was a good decision. 

I think Michael may actually be sitting on our couch here, but I am not sure.  So, we preceded to plan our wedding and of course it was a wonderful choice.  We had some a great base of friends and we were so young and so in love and so delighted with life.  There was such a glow when I look back.  We were just starting out in life and so full of enthusiasm and joy.  I know we had our struggles, especially  finding work.  But, that is not what stands out in my memory.

There were no synagogues or temples in Ashland, Oregon at the time, so we found a minister who would marry us from the Universal Christian Church and decided we wanted to get married outside in beautiful Lithia Park in Ashland, Oregon.

Here we are with my Dad who is no longer with us.  The wedding was a magical day with a potluck and violin serenade in the park.  I remember floating through it like I was in a dream.  So many people I loved were there and I did not get nearly enough time to talk to them all.  I was do grateful they all came to celebrate my love for Michael.

We waited three years before we had our first child, Adam.  I decided on a home birth.

We took all the Lamaze classes and I was all prepared, but I pretty much threw all that out the window during labor.  My midwife did her best to keep me on track.  What I remember most about Michael was that he kept looking between my legs wondering when Adam would come and what he would look like.  He was so excited to become a father. The moment of birth at home in our bed was truly magical and I have to say he is the best father ever.  From day one, we have always been partners.  He has always changed the diapers and fed the children, did whatever was necessary--I didn't have to ask him.  Parenting was a commitment he had from day one and his commitment has never wavered.

 

 

Yellowstone 2006

 

 

 

 

Renewal of vows in Hawaii 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Years 2012

 

Michael, I am grateful for all the magical moments together and look forward to many more.  I love you.

Celebrating My Birthday August 2012

I pulled out all the stops and just had fun these last four days.  Living one more year is something important to celebrate. 

I decided to make lunch at my house for friends on Friday and we had a blast.  I turned on the stereo and played some Fleetwood Mac. Wow.  It has been too long since I have heard Fleetwood Mac.  I was dancing along with the music while I cooked up two huge taco salads (one vegetarian and one meat). One friend who could not make the party, came over early to give me her gift.

We all ate outside among the flowers and laughed and reminisced and shared what is happening in our lives. 

I gave them a tour of the house and everyone had to check out my new memory foam bed.

Then Michael and I left for San Francisco and we ate at B+ Star, a Burmese restaurant.  The appetizers were fabulous and we never got around to the main meal.  We devoured sauteed brussel sprouts, mango chicken salad, drunken mussels and duck lettuce wraps.  For dessert, I had lychee ice cream.  They put a candle in it and the whole restaurant sang me Happy Birthday.

Then, we went to the American Conservatory Theatre and saw Humor Abuse, the story of a man who grew up in the Pickle Family Circus.  He did some of the acts and shared his love of his father.

I woke up on Friday morning at the Hyatt at Fisherman's Wharf and we had a fantabulous breakfast outside across the street at the Hollywood Cafe.  I had the biggest fruit cup in the world with eggs, bacon and sourdough toast--a luxury for me.  I am swearing off gluten and sugar, but made an exception for my birthday. I even slathered on some blackberry preserves. Michael had a crab and avocado omelette, yummm.

Afterwards, we toured Fisherman's Wharf and then hopped on the the trolley car to go to the SF Giants baseball game.

We made a stop at the Farmer's Market on the way to the game and picked up some fruits and vegetables to snack on.

The Saturday morning Farmer's Market was one of my Mom's favorite places to go and I thought of her while I tasted and perused the most gorgeous produce I had ever seen.

We arrived at the game and it was a great one--we won 9-3.  Afterwards we went down on the field and played and saw a wonderful interview of the players along with other season ticket holders.

 

I came home exhausted and rested on Sunday. 

Then today celebrated today with two dear friends, Joanne and Susan.  Susan cooked lunch for me and Joanne brought dessert.  We checked out Susan's amazing garden including her sunflowers.

All in all a very satisfying celebration.  I cherished every moment with friends and family.

My Birthday Week

I have two followers on my blog, my sister and my mother.  My mother can no longer follow me, so I really have only one follower. But, I still love writing in my blog.  I guess it is really for me that I do this.  Although, if anything I say should resonate with someone else, that is fabulous.

The other day, someone on my mother's caringbridge site asked if Mom could please write a note and I had to tell them that Mom, who was a very talented poet, can no longer read or write or talk or walk.  After pleading with the speech and physical therapists last week to please give Mom more time than two weeks, the physical therapist had to be blunt with me.  "Your Mom", she said, "had a very severe stroke and she does not have the capability to improve.  We cannot justify Medicare paying for any more therapy."  It takes time for those words to trickle down past my defenses into my heart.

This is my birthday week.  I will be fifty-seven years old on Friday.  I usually schedule a therapy session right before my birthday because ever since I was twenty-six, it makes me sad getting a year older.  But, this week, I did not.  I decided to cherish this week of solitude, this lull when work is slow and the beauty of the day here in California is stunning.  Each day, I am amazed anew at the glorious color of the azure blue sky, the pine trees that grow so tall and the butterflies and bees that flit from flower to flower.  I have decided to cherish it, sadness and all.

I have slowed down because of bursitis in my knee which is getting a little bit better every day.  I have planned a full celebration on Friday which I looking forward to, but in the meantime, I am cherishing this time for reflection.

Every year for the last few years, on my birthday, my Mom compiled a book of my poetry that the two of us had written at the same time.  We communicated by Skype which Mom loved because I would often sign while I was talking.  Mom has lost alot of her hearing and she loved to watch me sign.  She or I would pick a prompt and then we would each write a poem from that prompt.  My poems were compiled with love and put in a book with a watercolor picture that she drew on the front.

Here is the picture she drew from last year's book and an excerpt from a favorite poem of hers that I wrote last year:

Straining to Hear

People always ask me
why I became a sign language interpreter
Was someone deaf in my family?
My answer is always no,
forgetting the image of my grandfather
wearing ear plugs with a white plastic cord
plugged into the TV,
straining to hear.
Or watching my mother on Skype
wearing huge headphones
turning up the sound all the way
Doesn't count I guess because
they didn't learn sign language
Unlike me--who fell in love with signs
and followed the inexorable pull of a career as an interpreter
dragging my heels all the way
Knowing in the recesses of my mind that one day
with one turn of the roulette wheel
It could be me straining to hear

I am not yet straining to hear, at least most of the time.  But, I am showing some signs of wear.  There are little things like forgetting my reading glasses and not being able to see the menu or watching those amazing bodies do feats of grandeur in the Olympics and trying to remember when was the last time I was able to do a cartwheel. 

I was inspired to write this blog because I just finished this book by Anna Quindlen:

I have this belief that every book comes along at the perfect time. This book proves my theory.  I wish I could write like Anna Quindlen, but since I cannot, I will toss in her quotes in italics for you to savor. When you see a quote below, it is from her.  I started her book yesterday and have read it every minute I could since. Anna, who is 60 years old, is looking back on her life and sharing what she has learned.

She starts out talking about "stuff" and how we have too much of it and none of it is important. That reminds me of my decision recently to finally clean out my daughter's room and change it into a guest room.  We had the requisite garage sale and sold the furniture for next to nothing and then went out a bought a guest bed.  I found the perfect quilt.  I have always wanted to have a quilt, not a bedspread and finally got my wish.  They had this gorgeous queen size quilt on sale at Bed, Bath and Beyond.  Every time I go in the room and see the sun shining down on it, it makes me smile.

I know this is supposed to concur with Anna Quindlen that stuff is not important. I do enjoy that quilt, I will admit.  But, a part of me misses that old room and all of the mess that she made.  I am surprised to admit that.  It is clean and beautiful now, not a speck of dust.  But, my daughter is not there...and I miss her.  Anna talks about how they leave home in stages.  First coming back for all the holidays and then they are too busy with their lives and wander off and even on holidays you are competing with the spouses...No spouses yet, but they don't come home very often.  Their lives are full and thriving and I am grateful for that.

 Besides, what kind of fool would I be to miss the opportunity to feel the sharp elbow of sensation again, to reexperience life vicariously, armed with the long view?  Because naturally at some level it is all about us.  Our relationship with our kids epitomizes that old joke:  Enough about me.  What about you? What do you think about me?  It places us squarely in the center of one of the great tugs-of-war of human existence, between connection and independence.

She talks about her husband and their marriage that has lasted the test of time.  On August 20th, Michael and I will have been married for twenty-nine years.  And like Anna and her husband, our hobbies and passions are not the same.  I have no interest in golf and though I like to watch baseball, not every night.  I love to look at gardens, but not plant them.  Still, I would not trade him for anyone and if I had to do it all over again, I would do it exactly the same way--with him. My mother-in-law, Jeanne, recently lost her husband.  I asked her what it was like living without him.  She said the hardest part was not being with someone who loved you more than anyone else, not being their "special someone".  Right before Jack passed, his caretaker asked him if he knew who Jeanne was.  He said, "That is my sweetheart".  Those were the last words he said.  Michael is my sweetheart.  He loves me unconditionally and is always there for me loving me through thick and thin regardless of what I do. 

Sometimes I tell my children--well, actually, frequently I tell my children--that the single most important decision they will make is not where to live or what to do for a living, it's who they will marry.  Part of this is the grandchild factor; I want them to have two great parents if at all possible.  But part is because the span of their years will be so marked by the life they build, day by day, in tandem with another...He has my back and he always has.  That's not romantic and it's not lyrical, and it's not at all what I expected when I thought I would never want to spend a night without him...But at this stage in my life, I'm not interested in being with people who don't have my back.  All those I'm-just-telling-you-for-your-own-good types I knew when I was younger?  Gone.

And of course Anna writes about gettting older, losing your health and death.  So many people who I have talked to about my mother have said they would not want to live that way.  Anna's mother died when she was twenty and she shares what she learned when her mother was ill.

She wanted to live.  That was the lesson I learned from her. She wanted to live until she didn't.  It's true of us all.  We put fences around that property:  I wouldn't want to live if I were in pain.  I wouldn't want to live if I had that disease, this cancer.  And then, miraculously, we're in pain, with that disease, this cancer, and we want to live still.  There's always another threshold.

As I get older, I realize that not only will my mother die, but the world will go on without me.  Someday I will not be here.  It is not like this is new information, like I did not know it before, but somehow it is elevated to a new level of understanding inside of me.

..I think that someday the river will run, the trees leaf out, the blue sky vibrate overhead, the runners pound out the miles on the path, the dog walkers throw their balls, the nannies push their strollers, but I will not be there.  I will be gone.

Once my mother was gone, I was left trying to wrap my mind around the fact that death was always lurking...There was suddenly an unseen barrier between me and nearly everyone else.  I knew the secret that was not a secret, that the molecules of the living world are always rearranging themselves so that something is lost, something is lost every day.

So as I sit here pondering turning 57, what are my hopes for the rest of my life? As Anna so brilliantly puts it:

One problem with aging is that we fear nothing much will happen next, that the plot points have passed.

Here are Anna's hopes:

I hope that woman does have grandchildren, and that they like to visit her, if only to see the snapping turtles in the pond or the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park.  I hope her husband is still alive, and most of her friends, and please God her children, because there are some things she truly cannot bear.  I hope she writes as often as she cares to, and that there are still readers who resonate to her words.  I hope she can walk with pleasure and ease to the end of the long drive and back to get the mail from the box, stroll through Central Park to the museum and home again...I hope, after breathing and swearing and sweating and wailing through three natural births, that she manages to have a natural death, without hospital rooms and flourescent lighting and beeping machines.

I hope for all those things as well.  I also hope for peace and ease and to be surrounded in beauty.  I hope to be able to see more countries--the ruins in Greece, the Louvre in Paris and the Tower of London.  I hope to be able to make a difference in the world by continuing to facilitate communication for those who need help.  I hope to remember, appreciate and be grateful for all that I have.

In "Angels in America", the brilliant play by Tony Kushner, a play about love and loss and death, there is a valediction:  "But still.  Still bless me anyway.  I want more life.  I can't help myself.  I do."  I do.

I do.

 

The Silent Generation

I have been spending alot of time lately with people in their 80's.  I didn't know what to call that generation so I looked it up online and found out they are called the Silent Generation.  I thought that was an odd name.  They are evidently dubbed that because of the lack of influential political leaders born between 1925-1945.

One quote says "  They grew up as the suffocated children of war and depression.  They came of age too late to be war heroes and just too early to be youthful free spirits."

My Mom (who will be 82 in October) was silenced by a stroke on April 22nd of this year.  I have gone back twice now to St. Louis to visit her spending hours by her bedside. 

It is hard to find words to express the depth of my sadness at the pain she is going through not being able to speak or walk, lying in bed day after day.  In addition to that, (if that were not bad enough), her mind is not the same. She has aphasia which includes the inability to express herself even though she is physically capable (ie: her left hand can move but she cannot write or do sign language) and apraxia which means her mouth will not move the way she tells it to.

She has struggled with infections that prey on the weak and elderly--MRSA and C Diff.  It is hard for me to understand the purpose of such suffering and I carry the weight of that pain with me every day.

On my last visit to St. Louis, inbetween visits with my Mom, I spent some time with the second Moms in my life.

Kathy Knoke is the mother of my dear friend Dana Knoke.  Dana and I met when we were freshmen in the dorm at the University of Missouri in Columbia, Missouri and have remained close freinds ever since.  When I moved to Ashland, Oregon I convinced Dana to come out and visit me there and she never left.  I have always loved Kathy.  She has a heart of gold and makes me smile.  She has made her home my home and has treated me like family since we first met.  Since I can no longer talk with Mom, I appreciated the small things like just being together and talking about what is happening in both of our lives.  I was able to meet her new dog, Babe, who is the cutest fur ball of fun.  We got on Facebook together and I showed her some tricks.  But, the thing I remember most about my visit with her is how much we laughed.  I really needed that and I think she did too.

My friend Bev Hotchner, who lost her husband a few months ago, turned 84 years old while I was in town.  I went to high school with both of her sons, Bradley and Kirby Hotchner.  I had a terrible crush on Bradley, which was not mutual.  Brad and Kirby were both part of my high school social group.  I still remember the first time I met Beverly.  She was balancing an ashtray on her head and laughing.  From the first moment I entered her home, I also felt at home and the feeling has never left.

I visit her every time I come to St. Louis, with rare exceptions.  This visit I took her out to dinner to celebrate her 84th birthday.  The two of us went to this special restaurant and we loved our waiter.  He was so attentive and funny and became part of our dinner lingering at our table.  He and Bev shared a dry sense of humor.  After the meal, we both hugged him and he felt like part of the family.  It was one of those nights I will never forget, special from beginning to end. The time together was bittersweet because she is planning to leave St. Louis.  Her son Bradley wants her to live near him in assisted living in southern California.  I helped her look at potential places on the internet, although I will be very sad to see her leave.  She told me she never would have imagined herself in assisted living and can't bear to leave her house.  But, she knows it is the right decision. To me, with her leaving, it feels like the end of an era.

Two nights later, we went out to dinner again with mututal friends.  It was a surprise when I showed up.  We went to "The Hill" which is the Italian part of St. Louis.  The restaurant was actually Spanish and is had the best paella I had ever tasted.  At Guido's restaurant, I met Mr. Guido and we had a perfect table tucked in the back room.  I cherished each moment with her and kept them close to my heart.

After I left St. Louis, I went to Albuquerque, New Mexico to spend time with my husband Michael's family.  My mother-in-law, Jeanne, lost her husband the end of May.  It was wonderful to see her again.  When I first started dating my husband and went to Albuquerque and met Jeanne, we liked each other immediately.  Jeanne tells it like it is.  She does not mince words.  When I cut my hair very short a couple of months ago, she told me that it did not look good at all:)  On the other hand, she is always complimenting and thanking me and I know how much she loves me.  The feeling is mutual.  This visit we spent time perusing dating sites and she wanted to learn how to use the email.  She also confided in me how difficult it is to live without her mate.  She told me she still loves and appreciates her friends, but there is something very special about having someone who you are the most important person in the world to them.

All these women can be taken away from me at a moment's notice.  I know that and that makes the time with them even more special.  It is easy to ignore my mortality and take my health for granted.  But, lately, I have been so grateful for each day, each moment that I have been given.  All these women have been mentors to me teaching me how to love with their deep and abiding love of me.  Being with them helped ease the pain of not being able to speak and interact with Mom

I used to tell Mom that no one would love me like she did.  My happiness was so important to her.  She was so proud of me and everything I did.  She saved my writings from elementary school and all my goofy paintings.  She cut out articles when I was in the newspaper with some accomplishment.  She attended all my high school plays and was my biggest fan. 

I used to think I would live forever.  I knew it was not rational, but death seemed so far away.  Not anymore.  As these special women in my life pass the torch on to me, it is a big responsibility for me to be there for the next generation, the way they have been there for me--holding me up with their love.  For the silent generation, their love says it all.