Random Thoughts While Simmering

On this official first day of autumn, I stood at the kitchen counter mixing meatballs and forming them in my hands, chopping onions and garlic, snipping herbs, adding crushed tomatoes to the sauteed seasonings, and stirring the rich sauce slowly as it began to simmer gently on the stove -- mindless tasks, which lend themselves to quiet reflection.  I thought I would share some of the random thoughts which passed through my mind as my hands prepared our Sunday supper.

No matter how deeply you love someone, you can’t make them love you if they don’t.

Think before you speak – hurtful words may be forgiven, but they will always be remembered by the person you hurt.

Be quick to forgive, but don’t feel guilty if you can’t forget. 

Children are our future -- more than anything else, they need our love, our attention, and our guidance.  Material things cannot begin to take the place of a parent's consistent presence.

Everyone looks at the world from a different perspective and interprets things differently, based on his own life experiences.   Don't ever presume to know what another is thinking. 

Life isn’t fair – there is a cute little quote that says if we all took our problems and put them in a basket, we would take our own problems back, or something like that.  I don’t believe it.  Everyone has problems, but some people seem to have many more than their share. 

Everyone handles grief and loss in a different way – don’t be judgmental of others as they grieve.  Listen to them and be kind, and remember that we never completely "get over" the loss of loved ones.  The grief just finds its way to a quiet little place in our hearts where it resides forever.

Try to treat everyone with kindness and respect.  Life is sometimes a circle, and the people we thought we would never see again come back into our lives at some point.  Better they remember us for our kindness than our antagonism. 

Sometimes we meet the right person at the wrong time, and there is nothing we can do about it.  We must resign ourselves to holding them in our hearts instead of our arms.

No matter how strong your opinion is on an issue, always be willing to listen to the views of others – this is how we evolve as individuals, and is the basis for compromise in the larger world.

When the stresses and pain of life engulf you, let the rhythms of nature soothe you -- sit by the water, sniff the flowers, listen to the birds, walk along the shoreline, find peace in the gentle rustling of the tall pines --

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Week of Nostalgia

 

Finally tonight I have some quiet hours to sit and ponder the busy week that has passed so quickly.  As the Labor Day Weekend brought summer to an end, my calendar seemed suddenly filled.  While our school district does not begin classes until this coming Monday, my daughter-in-law, who is a teacher, worked on Tuesday and Wednesday, so I had all three of my little ones together again for two full days.  So many memories stirred as I watched them together.  I have taken care of them since Alivia was two months old; now she is six and entering first grade, and Luke will begin kindergarten next week.  Emma -- who was just an infant a heartbeat ago -- is now 2-1/2, and a beautiful little dynamo.  How quickly the time has passed, and how thankful I am that I chose to spend my days with them.  It will be with tear-filled eyes that I send Liv and Luke off to school on Monday and bring my little Emma back to my house. 

On Thursday I attended a funeral for a cousin whom I have met only a few times.  She was so friendly and kind, and I always intended to get together with her, so I could know her better.  And now, she is gone -- I bid her good-bye at her lovely funeral mass, and was filled with regret.  Life is busy and crazy much of the time, and so often we neglect the more distant members of our families, only to feel excruciating sadness as we lose them and realize that we never really took the time to know them. 

On a much happier note, I gathered with several former high school classmates for a "mini-reunion;" it has been forty-five years since we graduated together.  Unbelievable!!  What an enjoyable evening it was.  I was talking recently with friends about our desire as we grow older to reconnect with the friends of our youth.  As I sat at this reunion, thoroughly enjoying the people and the conversations, I realized the bond of memories we all shared.  As we age, we lose grandparents, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins -- so many of the people who remember us as a child.  There are fewer people who share our early memories of our school, our town, ourselves. 

This reunion gave us a chance, not only to discover the roads where life has taken each of us, but also to remember and share our impressions of our earlier lives. We remember the same teachers, the music, the gossip. We remind each other of who we were then.  It is a beautiful thing to reconnect not only with these people, but with our shared memories.  We look at each others' aging faces and see in our hearts younger, hopeful faces.  And I am reminded of a lyric from a beautiful country song,

"To me, you will always be eighteen, and beautiful, and dancing away with my heart..."

 

Is There a "Voice of Reason"?

It seems as if the word "compromise" has disappeared from our lives.  It seems as if the words "tolerance," "moderation," and "forgiveness" are also in short supply.  Fueled by "Hate TV" and slanted journalism, it is difficult to sort out the problems facing our country -- much less the solutions required to fix these problems.

This summer I have listened to many conversations at gatherings of friends and family.  Much of the time, people speak their minds on politics, religion, issues of the day, but never listen to the responses of others.  Or, they belittle the beliefs and ideas of others.  We are bombarded on a daily basis by left and right-leaning TV news stations, talk radio, and internet news and propaganda.  It is often difficult to discern the kernel of truth in this abundance of information.

It seems politicians will go to any length to undermine the opposing party.  I truly believe at this moment, some segments of the Republican Party would prefer to see the economy crash again, just to prove that President Obama was wrong in his attempts to stabilize the economy.  Why is it that in the past few years, each party seems vehemently opposed to any legislation proposed by the other party?  Why is there no compromise anymore.  Where are the "cooler heads" who used to work diligently to bring the ideas of each party together to craft legislation that benefited the people of this great nation.  Now, each side is intent on "winning" as opposed to "governing."

Also, the underlying racism in our country sickens me.  It is not just a case of black and white; there is a pervasive distrust and dislike of almost anyone who is not a white, Christian citizen.  This is disturbing.  Our nation was built by immigrants, and today a new generation of immigrants of many colors, races and creeds contributes to our culture and economy.  Why do we hate anyone who is different from us?  Diversity enhances our lives.

It seems as if almost everyone I listen to has "drawn a line in the sand" over every major issue in our country -- gun control, abortion, gay marriage.  Why must it be this way?  Can't we agree to disagree on some issues.  We live in a democracy where the majority rules.  Can't we gracefully accept when we lose the battle over an issue?  When I was young, I was strongly opposed to abortion, and even now, I find it disturbing.  However, the majority of people in this nation consider this one of women's basic rights -- I accept this and support it; who am I to argue that my beliefs hold more political clout than those of the majority? 

We live in a society where greed and power rule.  The middle class is disappearing; the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.  This is not "class warfare", it is the reality of our lives today.  And yet, in order to win an election, politicians must raise huge amounts of money for their campaigns -- and much of this money comes from the corporations whose greed and power will at least partially control the politicians' decisions. 

However, as our lawmakers cater to the rich and powerful, many of the problems in our economy are blamed on the poor -- those who need the "handouts" and "entitlements" -- those who cannot afford to house, feed and clothe their families and pay for healthcare on the low wages they receive for their labor. 

We need those "cool heads" and those "voices of reason" today -- they are critical to saving our nation.  We need people who will put the good of the nation above their own desire for political power.  Our problems are complex; there is a huge schism between those who lean to the left and those to the right.  The "line in the sand" becomes deeper and more difficult to surmount as we listen to the heated rhetoric in the media. 

We need good ideas from both sides of the aisle in Congress; we need cooperation between the executive and legislative branches of government at all levels.  Let us all hope that a strong voice of reason steps forward and prevails, so our great nation can be saved. 

As August Settles In

As I walked the dog at midnight, the heavy darkness of an August evening was backlit by lovely moonlight filtered through high clouds.  The tall pine branches cast shadows across the moon, and the deep quiet reminded me that August is definitely here. 

This summer has been a disappointing one for me.  Hot, humid weather in July and a knee injury have kept me sidelined from my usual summer activities.  The garden desperately needs weeding; plans for daily walks with my little granddaughter never materialized, and I feel a bit of sadness to know that there are only three weeks left until school begins. 

However, I do so love August.  The early morning birdsong is subdued now, and darkness falls quickly and thickly in the evening as I sit on the porch.  My hydrangea bushes are heavy with their voluptuous blooms and the pepper and tomato plants are ripe on the vine.  Fields of sunflowers, purple loosestrife and goldenrod dot the highways.  It seems the world is filled with color and abundance.

There are early harbingers of autumn, though, as the ferns begin to turn a bit brown, stores are filled with notebooks, pencils, and back-to-school sales, and summer flowers begin to fade.  The carefree feeling of June -- with two months of sunshine and freedom ahead -- are now but a memory.  Suddenly, we must resign ourselves to the fact that summer is waning.  We plan get-aways and try to squeeze in all of the summer activities we can.  Soon we will be back to schedules and sweaters.


There is a peacefulness in these languid August days.  The excitement of early summer is replaced with a more quiet enjoyment.  Even though I have not accomplished many of my summer plans, and still cannot take Alivia for morning walks on the nearby rail trail as we had planned, I am content to savor the beauty of this month.  I see August not as an ending, but as a beginning -- autumn holds its own special pleasures, and as August wanes, September hurries in.

 

 

After a taste of cooler weather for the past week, the summer-lovers are happy to hear that warmer temperatures are returning.  There is still time for picnics, swimming, boating, camping, and all of the much-loved activities of summer.  The farmers' markets are filled with fresh vegetables for salads and grilling.  What can possibly taste better than a slice of fresh tomato topped with a bit of salt and some chopped basil leaves.  As steaks sizzle on the grill, we can sit on our decks and porches and savor these last weeks of summer pleasures.  But, as the gentle twilight of early summer changes to the earlier settling of heavy, quiet darkness in mid-August, we know in our hearts that autumn is waiting patiently in the wings -- carpe diem!!



Well-worn and Irreplaceable

 

 

As I searched through the house for items to sell at my garage sale, I pulled out an old frying pan.  It is scarred and pitted, with a long black wooden handle.  As I held it in my hands, I could almost hear the bacon sizzling; I remembered the hundreds of times I slowly stirred scrambled eggs or dropped zucchini pancakes into hot olive oil.  No, this pan is a keeper. 

 

Fortunately, my husband's family places great value in preserving family belongings, so through the years I have amassed a small collection of club aluminum which was used by my mother-in-law and her mother-in-law.  I have large, heavy soup pots, and a hefty roasting pan.  The rolling pin I have used for over forty years is another family "heirloom."

 

I would not trade these for the most expensive cookware on the market now.  Often I walk through the housewares section and covet the beautiful pots and pans on display, but they cannot compare to the treasures I have in my own kitchen.  My old pans, with their well-seasoned surfaces, are perfect for slowly simmering soups, stews and spaghetti sauce.  The handles of my old wooden rolling pin seem molded to my hands -- perfect for rolling out pie or cookie dough.

 

There are also precious memories associated with these old faithfuls.  I remember Sunday dinners at my in-laws' home.  Such delicious aromas coming from the kitchen, the large roasting pan keeping the sauce and meatballs warm on the stove.  Memories of the annual clambake, with the large soup pots holding clams in the middle of the long picnic tables at camp as we savored the chicken, sausage, potatoes, corn and coleslaw. 

 

Kitchens now are large and sleek, and the cookware is lovely to behold.  But, my heart is drawn back to my mother-in-law's small kitchen where most of the prep work was done on her kitchen table -- no fancy granite countertop or six-burner stainless steel stove.  The utensils she used were well-worn, her pans old and sturdy.  But, there was warmth in that kitchen, and love, and abundant, delicious food.

 

Thank you Mom -- for the pots & pans, the recipes, and the love.  They are irreplaceable.

 



The Eclectic Lifestyle

 

 

Our garage sale morning could not have been more perfect -- blue skies, sunshine, light breezes.  I positioned a comfortable lawn chair and small table nearby and waited for our customers to arrive.  Unfortunately, they straggled in slowly all day, and the sale itself was not very successful.  However, our conversations were interesting.  Several people commented on my lovely yard, which boosted my spirits because with the hot, humid summer we have experienced, and a knee injury which has me sidelined a bit, the weeds are taking over in my gardens, and I have felt neglectful.  One woman told me she would love nothing better than to sit by my little pond with a glass of wine and enjoy the serenity.

 

And I thought about my philosophy of gardening -- I plant and weed, but for the most part, I let nature take over.  Some years the phlox will be breathtakingly beautiful, and other years the deer will chomp the tops off before the first buds have a chance to open.  Black raspberry bushes have taken over parts of my back garden and an area beside my garage -- they are thriving, but I did not plant them.  I gently prune bushes, but tend to leave them as naturally flowing as possible, to offer refuge to the birds.  My garden is a hodgepodge, but it is pretty and soothes the soul.

 







I have never been inclined towards structure and formality in any area of my life.  Coloring between the lines is not my style.  I fell in love with my old Victorian house with its ancient kitchen because something about its long life spoke to me; I saw the possibility of creating a warm haven for my family in this well-worn home.  My home has always been more about function and pleasure than formal Victorian décor.  Most of my furnishings are either estate sale finds or family pieces -- with the scratches and scars that come from being well-used.  My closets and storage areas hold a variety of items that represent my many interests -- sewing, knitting, flower arranging, gardening, holiday decorating.  The kitchen cabinets overflow with old soup pots, cake pans, bowls, wooden spoons -- all of the utensils that have helped me to feed and comfort my family and friends through these long years.

 

 

 

 

The dining room and its little walk-in china closet hold my beautiful collections of china, tablecloths and napkins.  So many dinners have been served in this room, with its 90-year old table and chairs.  China has always been a passion of mine; I cherish an old friend's set which is complete with butter plates and ramekins.  I use this infrequently, though, because it must be hand-washed.  There are so many memories here of much-loved family and friends gathered around the table, enjoying delicious food and the warmth of togetherness.  My little antique china closet holds family treasures -- the silver champagne goblets from our 25th anniversary party, my mother's miniature tea set, and nativity figurines from my childhood. 

My life itself has been eclectic -- years spent pursuing the things I loved, rather than the most practical or secure.  An earth mother of sorts, my years of mothering my children were my happiest days; there were part-time jobs from home -- typing, crafts, babysitting.  There was always some party to be planned, or costume to be made, or special dress to be created for my daughter.  Long hours were spent in the kitchen -- cooking, baking, sharing coffee and heartfelt conversations.  Reading has been one of my fondest pleasures, and my bedroom is filled with notebooks and journals of my writings.  I love dining in a beautiful restaurant with linen napkins and delicious food, browsing through dusty antique shops or bookstores, touring historic neighborhoods, and walking quietly through a nature preserve.

To many, my life may seem a bit "provincial" -- very little travelling, residing in the same small town all of my life -- but I have nurtured children, animals and flowers; I have created a warm, welcoming home for friends, and I have had the time to pursue those passions that bring me the greatest pleasure.  I have followed my heart --

I

Missing Carol

Four years ago tonight I was waiting for my sister to die -- how sad it was to sit on my quiet porch at nightfall, listening to the sparrows settling into the ivy, with a part of my heart lying in bed across town, slowly dying.

There is a post that circulates on Facebook about sisters being "different flowers from the same garden."   How true that was of my sister and me.  She was born when I was almost six years old - an age difference that separated us throughout childhood.  We didn't play together or share secrets or feel any particular sisterly bond.  Physically, we were opposites.  I was tall, chubby, and somehow could never find a hairstyle that worked.  She was shorter, slim, with long, thick hair and beautiful eyes.  We liked different music, different books, and different people. 

As we reached adulthood, I was naïve, hopeful, and eager to be liked.  She was more worldly, wary, and cautious in her friendships.  We both had strong opinions, but were usually on opposing sides of any issue.   Basically, we drifted further apart, and neither of us really tried to bridge the chasm between us.

When I was 50 and she 44, our mother died. The one thing we did have in common was a deep love for our mother, and we shared the pain of losing her.  And, this loss finally brought us together as sisters.  We started slowly -- each a little wary of the other -- and ended up the best of friends.  How I cherished this new relationship.  We didn't know we would have only eight years left to enjoy our new-found sisterhood. 

She gave me a beautiful journal once, with an inscription that said she regretted all the time we had wasted, and how much she treasured our new friendship.  We shared both good and bad times in those eight years.  We comforted each other as several much-loved family members and friends died.  We celebrated the good times together.  We talked and laughed. We loved our occasional lunches at The Desmond, and our day trips to Saratoga and Stockbridge.  We sent Email jokes to each other to brighten boring days.  We shared secrets, both of happiness and heartbreak.  We sipped wine as we listened to the waves crash to the shore one lovely autumn evening in Gloucester, and talked far into the night.

But, it was too short -- in eight years, how do you possibly compensate for 44 years of remoteness?  And this week, I am reliving the  memory of the last weeks of her life when the pain medications and weakness made it difficult for her to speak above a whisper.  Most of all, I am grieving for the words we didn't speak for so many years of our lives, and for the parts of ourselves we withheld from each other.

And I still have not returned to Stockbridge -- walking those lovely streets and having lunch at our favorite Red Lion Inn are still too painful.  Each year I think, maybe this summer, but the time is not right just yet.  After all, I am not just grieving for the sister I loved so much for those eight short years, I am grieving even more for the first 44 years of indifference.

Rest in peace, Little Sister, and one day we will be together again.