Of Pelicans and Greed

It is the sight of the pelicans drenched with oil, trying desperately to free themselves from this unknown predator, which is my undoing -- my heart breaks as I watch them struggle valiantly and finally lie exhausted in the muck.

This is the tip of the iceberg, as such, in the tragedy of this massive oil leak. We mourn the men who were killed and injured in the original explosion, the almost certain destruction of the ecosystem of the rich marshes which nestle along the beautiful Gulf Coast, and the disastrous economic toll on this area which relies so heavily on the fishing and tourist industries.

The greatest tragedy of all is that this is a man-made disaster -- one born of tremendous greed and the overwhelming haste so prevalent in our corporate world today. As our industries strive constantly to make more money more quickly, sacrifices are made, and most often these sacrifices trample on safety and environmental regulations. Time and again, after an accident, it is discovered that the company involved had a poor safety record, or even blatantly ignored government regulations or warnings from employees. The recent mine explosion in West Virginia is a perfect example -- so many miners killed and families grieving, because the higher powers decided to let serious safety issues slide.

And yet, we let these large corporations go blithely on, amassing their billions of dollars in wealth, while trampling the safety of our two most valuable resources -- human beings and the natural environment which sustains us all.

As a society, we must be cognizant of the fact that not only are regulations needed to protect our workers and our environment, but there must be strong oversight as well. We must not, in our race for "homegrown" energy sources, let greed usurp sound judgment and painstaking research. Before we mindlessly drill for natural gas in New York State, we need to seriously listen to the possible effects of this drilling on the water supplies for New York City and other areas. Before we hurriedly construct more offshore drilling sites, we must make sure that safety is the priority. We can't afford to contaminate more of our oceans with oil. Instead of disparagingly viewing environmentalists as "tree-huggers," we need to listen to their concerns as we grant corporations the right to tamper with our beautiful environment.

We must be aware that the majority of large corporations today have only one goal in mind-- to make money and lots of it!! Capitalism and the free market brought wealth and power to our great nation; unbridled greed and lack of regard for our people and resources may well be our downfall.

Evening Reveries

Dusk has settled, the sparrows have finished scuffling for their resting spots in the ivy, and the only sounds in the neighborhood are the sleepy notes of evening bird calls. I love this old porch and the cool seclusion it provides -- shaded by towering maples and the trellis of ivy. But, I especially love it in these evening hours, as I sit alone with my journal -- thinking back on the day that is quickly becoming night.

I rose early this morning, still a bit achy from my busy Saturday -- a day filled with lawn mowing, gardening, grocery shopping, and hours of office work. As I sipped my coffee and read the thick Sunday paper, I savored this gift of a lovely Sunday. Of course, there was cleaning and laundry to be done, and still more office work, but there was also time to water the garden and feed the birds, to rescue a beautiful old rocking horse from the attice for the grandbabies to discover tomorrow morning, and to enjoy Sunday lunch at a favorite restaurant.

We sat in the courtyard of Lanie's, under a cheerful yellow umbrella, beside a planter filled with flowers and herbs, as I sipped my wine and savored a delectable seafood chowder. My marinated swordfish sandwich with dilled mayonnaise and a side of tasty macaroni salad was perfect, and the leisurely hour enjoying the sunny May afternoon was a relaxing interlude. These past weeks have been filled with tremendous stresses and problems, and this quiet Sunday will be a treasured memory.

Now, darkness has fallen -- the bird calls have ceased, and the air is filled instead with the chirping of insects and perhaps a distant frog, as well as the contented clucks of my next-door chickens as they settle in for the night. Such a peaceful and lovely evening!

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of this day --

The Dress

The dress has a long-sleeved bodice of heavily crocheted mushroom-colored lace, with a long, flowing chiffon skirt of a slightly lighter shade. It is breathtaking. As I looked through my closet for garage sale items, this dress was hanging peacefully in the back. It was my "mother of the groom" dress in 1998, and it was the dress that made me feel really beautiful for the first time in my life. I gently took the dress from the closet and placed it with the other clothing, with tears in my eyes. There is really no reason to keep it -- my lifestyle does not include formal gatherings where a dress of this elegance is required. But, how do I part with something that gives me such exquisite pleasure to merely touch.

In the pile it went, as I got down to the real business of preparing for the sale. For the rest of the evening, though, each time I looked at it, I was reminded of its importance in my memories. I am a tall, big-boned woman, whose shape has been "matronly" from puberty on. My family was relatively poor, so the clothing I was allowed to buy as a teenage certainly was not flattering. The sleeves were always too short, the belts a little too tight, and the slacks never long enough. My hair was drab brown and shapeless, and I was the girl that people described by saying, "She has such a pretty face; if only she wasn't so big." People can be cruel, whether unwittingly or deliberately, to a young girl who doesn't fit the prescribed mold.

When my children were young, I was a stay-at-home mom, and with a limited income, I never had extra money to spend on my own clothing -- every clothing dollar went to outfitting three children. I never thought much about myself in those days. I had lost quite a bit of weight as I chased little ones around, so it wasn't as difficult to find clothing that fit. As long as my clothes were clean, my hair washed, and my make up on, I felt fit to face the day.

However, when I saw that dress at the bridal shop on the sale rack, I fell in love. The crocheted lace sleeves covered my wrists and actually brushed my hands with their softness. The chiffon skirts flowed as I walked, and it was so long I actually needed it hemmed a bit to avoid tripping. I felt like Cinderella! The day of the wedding I had my hair done in an upsweep, and as I waltzed through my son's special day, I felt absolutely beautiful. Of course, the wedding pictures told the true tale, and I didn't look as beautiful as I had felt, but that brief feeling of beauty will remain in my heart forever.

You guessed it -- the dress is now hanging back in my closet. I smoothed the lace gently, ran my hands over the ever so delicate chiffon, and tucked it safely away again. How can you possibly put a price on such sublime sentiment!

Garage Sales That Break Your Heart

Lines from a long-ago popular Robert Goulet song keep running through my mind tonight – “If ever I would leave you, how could it be in springtime, Knowing how in spring, I’m bewitched by you so”.

Today was the first garage sale of our household cleanout. We plan to work diligently this summer to gather together the accumulation of forty years of items that are not necessary to our daily existence, and sell them at semi-weekly garage sales. This is not a pleasurable chore; It is not as if I am looking forward to selling our house and retiring to some long dreamed-of location. This is a sale in anticipation of losing this house that has been in my husband’s family for almost 75 years and that holds my heart deeply in its grip.

Life is unpredictable, and things could suddenly take a turn for the better financially. Our family business might ultimately survive this terrible economy; to be realistic, though, we must begin to clean out forty years’ of “things”. I must reconcile myself to watching strangers leave with some of the treasures I have collected through the years.

This past week has been tough – our business lost a large project to another company in a truly unethical deal, which is typical of today’s business climate. And, we spent much of the week preparing for this garage sale.

There were two defining moments for me today. One of the items I placed for sale was a lovely eyeglass holder that had been a gift to me several years ago. I priced it and laid it out on the table sadly, and today a sweet woman, who is herself a “collector”, as I am, said to me, “this is so beautiful, I think you should keep it.” In the end, though, she bought it, and she reassured me that it was going to a “good home”.

As we were putting the finishing touches on the garage sale early this morning, I looked out over my gardens – the plants that were so tiny three weeks ago are now covering the garden with green. They seem to grow inches each day. I think back over the years I have spent planting and tending and loving my trees and gardens and birds, and the strains of Robert Goulet’s song played in my heart, “If ever I would leave you, how could it be in springtime….”

I don’t want to leave this house – I have been totally content here for almost forty years. It may be outdated and weathered, and my gardens and my possessions may not mean anything to others, but they mean the world to me.

March Ponderings

March has been a tough month for my family. There have been worrisome health issues with my grandchildren, financial problems that worsen daily, a stomach flu that passed through and left all of us shaky and weak for several days, and the increasing stress of competing in today's uncertain business world. My mother's birthday -- March 10 -- was especially sad for me this year because my sister was not here to remember her with me. Tomorrow -- March 22, would be the 36th birthday of my stillborn daughter, and this day is always painful for me.

March itself is one of the least favorite months to many of us in the Northeast. We live suspended between winter and spring -- a seesaw ride -- as spring breathes its first stirrings of warm air and snowdrops, and then retreats quickly to a cover of wet snow. It is a month of mud, bare trees, brown grass and disappointments.

This past week, though, spring won the battle for a few days. I took the babies for walks in the warmth of the March sunshine. Friday afternoon I left my office work undone and raked all the leaf mulch from my front gardens. As always, I was filled with wonder at the tiny green plants forming already despite the cold darkness of heavy, wet leaf cover. The lilacs and roses have tiny buds -- while we may wonder if spring will ever truly be here, these plants are certain that God will not fail us. We still have a long way to go, and I still have several flower gardens left to uncover, but, finally, the spirit of spring is within me.

Last night was a highlight of this month -- a surprise 30th birthday party for my beloved nephew. What a wonderful evening it was. When we were younger, these large family gatherings were frequent and sometimes thrown together at the last moment. As our families have grown and the pace of our world has become more hectic, we find that we gather only for these milestone celebrations now. But it is wonderful to be together again -- to laugh and hug and see our babies grown now into young adults, some with babes of their own.

My sister-in-law put together a lovely video which made tears flow as we watched our little ones transform before our eyes, saw ourselves young once again, and savored the faces of loved ones no longer with us.

As a family, we are a rich tapestry of personalities, woven together by the bonds of blood and love, and I left the party last night grateful to my mother-in-law and her sister and brother who kept the traditions of their family alive and passed them down to us all - a gift that enriches all of our lives -- and a family where love abides.

God Bless the Stay-at-Home Mom!

It has been my perception since the years when I was a stay-at-home mom that our society does not respect women who choose to spend their days tending their children instead of joining the world of work. In my mind, the “Mommy Wars” have become irrelevant, because we have seen that a child’s ultimate character is determined by the quality of parenting – the love, emotional support and encouragement given by parents; the children of the 70’s and 80’s who were raised by parents who carefully tended to their needs and development are now successful adults, whether or not their mothers were home with them.

That being said, I have chosen to care for my own grandchildren during the day because I prefer that they spend these early, formative years with someone who loves them and has an emotional investment in their futures. Fortunately, with the help of their other grandmothers and a loving family friend, I have been able to care for them and attend to my own duties in our family business, as well.

However, as I have once again become immersed in the “dailyness” of child care, I would like to extend my support and encouragement to all of today’s stay-at-home moms. I’m sure many of you sense this lack of respect for your choice. It is manifested in several ways. There are the snide comments from working mothers who say, “I could never be home all day – what do you do – aren’t you bored?” Some husbands are less than supportive because they feel their wives don’t “really work”. And, there is the unintentional lack of respect for a mother’s time – the requests from working mothers to shuttle their children around, drop off the forgotten book to them, or pick up the sick child from school.

When I began caring for my first grandbaby in 2007, it had been five years since my youngest child graduated from high school. I was far removed from the daily world of babies and preschoolers – my memories of those days were rose-colored and blurred. In the past 2-1/2 years, I have been struck once again by the enormity of the job. I have these precious toddlers for 9-1/2 hours a day, and I am exhausted by the time they leave – looking forward to a glass of wine, a good dinner, and the silence of my office. The full-time mom still has hours of work ahead before the last child is tucked into bed and finally asleep.

It is this “dailyness” of child care that is so demanding – fix breakfast (with the help of my granddaughter), answer questions, wash faces and hands, turn on a DVD for them to watch, clean the table, the chairs, the floor, change diapers and dress them for the day, pour juice into the “right” cups, answer questions, help with a craft activity, read to them, referee the hair-pulling fights, change diapers again, answer questions, pick up toys, fix lunch, answer questions, wash faces and hands, send them into the living room to play, clean the table, the chairs, pick up the macaroni pieces which are by now glued to the kitchen floor, change diapers, answer questions, pour milk into the “right” cups, put the Elmo naptime DVD in, gather the blankets, tuck them into their respective recliners, or rock them in my lap until they fall asleep, scurry around to finish some chores while they sleep, then once again change diapers, fix snack, answer questions, referee fights, play “Ring Around the Rosie” for the tenth time that day, work on our “letters”, pick up toys, and send them off with Dad or Mom, with kisses, hugs, and “one more kiss”.

Of course, as I am breathing a sigh of relief, the stay-at home mom still faces supper preparation and clean up, bathtime, and bedtime rituals before her day is over. And, more often than not, in addition to taking care of these little ones, mom has school age children as well.

So, if you are a stay-at-home mom, I send you my praise and appreciation for the job you are doing -- providing your children with the best possible childhood!!!

And, if you are a working mother, I know your life is difficult, too – a juggling act which tugs at your heart and your energy. Both of my daughters-in-law work full-time, and I see first-hand the effort they put into their jobs and their precious children. But, please be aware that the full-time moms you know are not enjoying a life of leisure.

And, if you are the husband of a stay-at-home mom, please look at her with love and appreciation, for she is working every minute of every day, tenderly caring for your most precious possessions.

Spring Musings

On this chill February morning I am dreaming of flowers -- not the perfect red Valentine roses filling the stores today in anticipation of being presented with a flourish to sweethearts of all ages. No, I am dreaming of the first tiny snowdrops I will carefully uncover from the leaf mulch by the end of this month, and the purple, yellow and white crocuses that will cluster beside my stone walk. I see the stately daffodils breezily gracing the front garden, and the lovely tulips that all too soon become dessert for the deer who visit my garden each night, and the purple and white lilacs which follow -- scenting the world around them with their sweetness, and the tiny lilies-of-the-valley snuggled under my old maple tree.

February has been cold; the ground is hard and bare -- the deep snows of 2010 have so far not made it to my little corner of upstate New York, so the traditionally snowy landscape of February has instead been brown, hard, and bone-chilling. That is the reality this year.

And, as all gardeners know, nature is whimsical. My flowered dreams of the spring to come may be "pie in the sky", also. We have had springs of perfection with softly warm breezes, sunlight, and a profusion of flowers. But, some years spring balks, and we are left with cold and mud, and the deer eat the tulips before their blossoms open.

But, for today, in the midst of this cold and bleak February, I will carry the visions of blossoms unfolding, lilacs perfuming the air, tender green leaf canopies on my beloved old trees, birdsong at dawn, and morning coffee on the porch. My spirits are lifting as I write --