What does FAMILY mean?

 

Family is more than just a biological connection. It's love and friendship, it's being there when you are needed… and sometimes when the other person doesn't even realize how much they need your comfort and support.

There's the nuclear family, the one you are born into, usually parents and children. Sometimes you are born into the hearts of your parents (adoption). When you are little, this family seems to be your whole world. If you are lucky there are aunts and uncles, cousins, maybe grandparents… As you grow your family takes on other forms, a marriage, your own children, in-laws, and sometimes close friends.

So how do you cope when the people you count on to be there for you as family turn their backs? How far do you push when the other person has no interest in BEING family? It's never easy to close the door on someone you called family, sometimes though they leave you no other options.

I have friends who have been abandoned by those they thought would be there for them in times of turmoil and it's sad. They've told me stories of being excluded from these people's lives and sometimes even getting arguments because they didn't acknowledge an event that they were never even told about.

Sometimes a person whom you accepted as family (maybe they married in) and continued to think of them that way even after the actual blood connection has been lost, may feel the need to "divorce" themselves from that side of the family. It's heartbreaking to lose yet another family member, but there is really nothing you can do about it.

Cling to those who hold you dear and don't waste time on those who seem to have simply forgotten you. Focus on the people who surround you with love and caring, and who allow you in when they need some love and caring as well. THAT is your family.

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It’s My Life

As I wrote in my post “Heritage” I’ve been researching my genealogy. I feel so blessed to have made connections that I never had any idea about before. I’ve met cousins (often 3^rd through…) and we’ve shared stories which are amazing!

One of the most astonishing things I’ve found are so many similarities, so often I find we think alike and even share favorite expressions — even though we’ve never met before, and often the generation before us had no interaction either. Our mutual likes, dislikes, and even political views really makes me believe in genetic memory!

Now I admit I am not the first one of my relatives to have pursued building a family tree. Many years ago, about a decade, a cousin on my mom’s paternal side tracked down and recorded EIGHT generations! It was a monumental task. Ironically the family tree showed a connection to a person I had known for a few years… talk about a small world.

But there are more trees that intertwine to make me who I am and I have started researching more on my mom’s maternal side. To be perfectly honest my mother was raised in the same small town where many of these people once resided and so many of them remembered her as a child (unfortunately she passed away several years before this cousin reached out to my sister and me). But I’ve formed precious friendships (several through the convenience of the internet).

My dad’s side was quite a bit more challenging as he grew up in a broken home (and again, he passed away rather early as well) so it hasn’t been easy to find out much. Unfortunately the few generations before me have thinned and not a lot of information has been available. I recently found out that my paternal grandfather had a sister but aside from having the name of the man she married I couldn’t find out anything else about her.

Surprisingly, the one grandparent I had little hope of tracking, my dad’s mother, has recently been the newest “tree” in my history. Thanks to that DNA test I took (23andme) I connected with a lovely cousin. We are close in age and grandchildren of sisters. She and I have shared several wonderful conversations about ourselves, our (current) families and so many of the family names that have repeated themselves in both of our lines. This cousin has been involved in a rather extensive family tree which, to my surprise, actually included my parents although neither my sister nor I were known about.

I never could figure out how one figures out anything beyond first cousins – so whether any of these lovely folks I am connected to are related two generations, or longer, ago, we have just all chosen to drop the numerical value of “cousin”. Trying to figure out the number of “great(s)” that comes before a mutual grandparent AND figuring out if you are of the same generation or not gives me a headache. I just prefer to call each relative COUSIN.

Aside from having this yearning to find out more of my roots, I am hoping o compile a bit of a book which I can pass down to my own children, nieces and nephews to help keep the family story very much alive. I know I have a lot of work to do but I am looking forward to this task because, well, THIS IS MY LIFE!

Stand Up For Yourself

Sometimes it seems that if you don’t advocate for yourself, no one else will. I know that sounds rather pessimistic, there are a few who go out of their way to help others — mostly people are just trying to make it through their own days and their own woes. There really isn’t blame to go around.

Bosses don’t understand when the customer rep takes a little more time to do extra for someone, most times there is an allotted amount of time to spend on each customer no matter how dire their situation. For people unable to look up the right information or communicate their specific needs, well, they wind up being forgotten. So often an elderly person living alone realizes how alone they are when pushing for themselves just gets to tiring to continue the fight. It’s sad when benefits or services they need so much seems beyond their reach.

Loved ones who want to help and ensure that their family is taken care of are sometimes across the country or too busy with their own lives and immediate household; maybe they are busy because their priorities don’t make it convenient and sometimes they have genuine concerns of their own (sickness, money problems, children who depend on them…), and it’s hard to be there for everyone.

It’s frustrating to make repeated phone calls to a doctor’s office only to reach a receptionist each time who tells you they’ve taken your message and yet no return phone call has been made. Everybody is busy. And then there are those special few who go above and beyond to help. There’s the doctor who makes personal phone calls to other doctors to help a patient coordinate the care he/she needs. There’s the insurance representative who actually believes that his/her job description IS CUSTOMER SERVICE. There’s the neighbor who drives someone to the doctor’s office and picks them up after a hospital stay.

The elderly, children with developmental disabilities, returning vets, and those living on meager incomes are all too often the ones who are left to fall through the cracks because there are too few resources, from budgets to time, to help them. Too often we might mimic the cry of Blanche from Streetcar Named Desire and say we must “depend on the kindness of strangers”, but like Blanche, is that kindness actually kind or self-serving? Too many people grasp at whatever help might come their way and sometimes find themselves scammed. It can be heartbreaking.

We need to find some way to advocate for ourselves and our loved ones, it can be terribly exhausting. If the need arises because we ourselves can’t manage the things we need, or because our loved ones need more attention than we can provide, there are (for the elderly) Geriatric Care Managers, but that does cost money and not everyone can afford it — than again can you afford not to get the needed help? That is something that truly needs to be considered.

Learn to advocate for yourself and your loved ones. Get information, ask, research, attend seminars (check out local libraries) and share that info with your friends and family (it might help someone else as well). Understand your rights as a patient, as a renter, as a business customer, and as a human being. Don’t be afraid to speak up for yourself and make yourself heard, if you need help making your feeling clear ask someone to help you. Make notes especially who you speak with and who told you what. Try to keep your emotions at bay, all too often people don’t have the patience or compassion to listen to someone else’s tears or anger. Be firm in your resolve and know that you are worth the effort.

Daily Prompt ~ Distance ~ #MondayBlogs

I found a terrific writing site (thanks to my friend Sugana) — The Daily Post: Daily Prompts provides a NEW daily prompt every day to give every writer a way to put a spark in her/his creativity. I decided to join this group every so often...

Today's Prompt is DISTANT

Definition of Distant: [adjective] far away in space or time, "distant parts of the world". synonyms: faraway, far off, far, far-flung, remote, out of the way, outlying, extrasolar, "distant parts of the world"; long ago, bygone, olden; ancient, prehistoric; literary of yore, olden, "the distant past"; away, off, apart, "half a mile distant".

What does the word DISTANT make me think of? Distant memories come to mind.

There’s the distant memory of a mother’s comforting kisses whenever a boo-boo made my child-self cry, or her comforting embrace when teenage angst seemed like the most tragic thing in the world. There’s also the distant memory of my father being able to fix anything in the world no matter how shattered the toy might be. As I reached my teenage years and entered adulthood my dad always managed to say exactly the things I needed to hear. I was just a newlywed when my parents passed away and I do miss those memories.

Now as an adult reaching my golden years with my own grown offspring I think back to every time I tried to sooth their aches, whether physical or in the heart, and wondered if my hugs and kisses were as magical as my parents’ were. And though they are now adults and more-or-less have no need of mom and dad to fix their problems, they are still my kids and always will be. Every time they make a turn that I want to give some advice about I go back to those distant memories and wonder what my dad would have said. Luckily most times I think at least twice and try to keep my mouth shut. I wonder if my children will one day have distant memories of those times that I didn’t meddle?

Life is made up of distant memories that influence all of our actions today and tomorrow. Distant memories can seem so sweet, some tug at the heart, and others that once felt so monumental now seem so insignificant. Our memories can sustain us and guide us and maybe sometimes embarrass us… but I wouldn’t trade those distant memories, those are my keepsakes forever.

When Do You Stop Being a Parent? ~ #MondayBlogs

When? For most of us the automatic response is NEVER!

But as our offspring grow from toddlers to teens and finally branch out on their own as adults, our roles do change drastically. So often it seems as if our children challenge everything from the moment they can say their first words so we should be used to it when they become rebellious teens. By the time they are young adults you are pretty much considered the cute but doddering old person who is now ready to switch out on who changes whose diaper.

Let’s begin with WHAT is a parent (mom or dad) — parents should do their best to ensure the health and safety of the child; parents teach by example; a parent sets rules, explains them with more than just “because”, and doles out appropriate consequences if they are not followed; parents help the child learn problem solving and decision making; parents help teach responsibility, assign chores and allow their child to deal with penalties when they shirk responsibilities; parents encourage goal setting; and a parent teaches that respect is a two-way street. Most of all parents need to provide unconditional love and constant emotional support without making a big deal of it.

The end-game is to teach our young to grow to become independent adults who can make their own decisions, take care of themselves, and pursue their own visions. Ideally, even while our child’s growth makes us (feel) obsolete and useless, we should continue living our own lives without guilt, without worry, and hopefully without having to “bail” our kids out of jams. IMPOSSIBLE.

We never stop worrying and wanting to be part of our children’s lives, and we should be content to live vicariously without stealing any of their glory. Sometimes it takes some of the burden off of our shoulders when we know they have someone to go through life with, to take care of AND be taken care of. And while we are not responsible for the mistakes they may make, it is inconceivable for us to stay silent and try, TRY, to guide them… besides they don’t want to listen anyway.

We never stop loving our children or feeling a “knife” twist in our hearts when we know they are hurting. Even when our offers of advice and help get turned down FLAT, we still push at least a little even when we have to suffer their wrath. If we have faith, we pray non-stop others, burn candles and fashion amulets, and still others may resort to bribes. A parent would do anything to make sure his or her child is happy, safe and accepted.

In addition to accepting the fact that we seem to be constant embarrassments to our offspring, we need to always be there just in case they do decide they want us. We live for the moments when they do seek our opinions.

A parent’s job is NEVER done.

Unconditional Love ~ #MondayBlogs

Loving someone unconditionally does NOT mean loving them blindly. You need to really know a person in order to love them, faults and all. And it’s okay to not always LIKE them and still LOVE them.

Parents and offspring have been knocking heads together since Adam and Eve had their sons. Never, ever withhold love from a child. Never make them feel that you won’t love them anymore if they struggle in school. It’s alright to let your child know when you are not happy with his actions, that there are consequences for breaking the rules, but NEVER, ever make him feel that he has lost your love. Don’t crush her spirit, destroy his self-confidence, or make her feel alone. A child should always feel the security of her parent’s love.

There are many ways to love, family love between parents and children or siblings, love between friends, love between lovers or spouses, or even love for pets. Love can fill your heart with warmth and happiness; you care deeply about another living being. Love is not dependency although you can’t imagine a world without the one you love in it. Love is not a chore, although it is worth any work you put into it. Love is not a possession even though you want to claim it for your own.

When you love a person for who he or she really is, then you understand his faults and love him anyway. If you claim to love someone but won’t see who he really is, then you merely “love” a fantasy you created and loving only what you want to see. Love without conditions — without limits is a true love, it is deep and real.

Love is a wonder.

The Sentimental Menorah ~ #MondayBlogs

We go about our day, everything is normal, and suddenly something happens to remind us of times gone by and a tear falls…

Last night we lit the first Chanukah candle (there is the Shammos with eight candles, one for each night). To say our prayers and fulfill the mitzvoh (commandment), we light an open flame (in our home, candles) menorah, but we use an electric menorah in the window for display and safety reasons (curtains, shades, etc.).

Let me fill you in on back story here:

My family has the tradition of passing down the candle menorah to the oldest daughter by her first Chanukah in her married home. Somehow my mom received two heirloom menorahs so both my sister and I each received one. By the time I was married, and my parents gave me their second menorah, I wanted to replace a menorah for them; my mom was getting wary of the open flame and when safety is involved adjustments can be made, so I bought them an electric menorah which they used in December 1976.

My dad passed away suddenly in the spring of 1977 and later that year my mom (with the help of her daughters and their husbands) packed up the apartment. There were plans for her to move in with her children, but first she wanted to relax in Florida with her mom. She had a stroke and although we brought her back up north to be close to us, she never was able to come home; Mommy passed away in January 1979.

I’ve used the electric menorah we had given to my folks in my window since 1979. When my children were very young, before college, work and marriage, they used to take turns. One child would pick out the Chanukah candles to be lit in the brass menorah my mom passed along to me and the other child would screw in the correct number of light bulbs for the display. Mark and I have taken over both tasks in the more recent years. When my daughter married in 2007 we replaced the candle menorah for our use as the tradition carried forward.

Yesterday afternoon I took the electric menorah, a white plastic now turned yellow from age, from its box in the closet and hoped that each of the orange bulbs would still light; I plugged it in while standing in the kitchen to check if I had to replace any. All nine of the bulbs lit… then one flamed briefly and before I could pull the plug a circuit breaker switched off and half my kitchen was without power. I called out to my husband that “a fuse blew” (I’m old school and still call it that).

He reset the switch and came upstairs to see what I had done and there I stood just looking at the damaged menorah and, yes, crying quietly. He inspected it and confirmed my fear, the menorah bought 39-years earlier that my parents lit as they shared their last Chanukah together, was done. This simple gift I had given to my parents meant more to me than I ever realized. I mumbled how I had looked for orange light bulbs when I was in the supermarket just in case they were needed, but all that the store had was an LED menorah with little blue lights.

My husband, thinking swiftly, simply said, “Get your jacket on”. He drove us to the store and bought one of those LED menorahs with little blue lights and that is what was displayed in our window for the first night of the festival. Right after we came home and set the new plastic menorah in the window, I set the Shammos and one candle in the “real” menorah and Mark said the blessings as he lit them.

On the first night there are three blessings, the first one is Shehecheyanu where we thank G-d for giving us life and enabling us to reach this season. Seasons come and seasons go; life is forever moving forward. After 39 years the plastic electric menorah that I always thought of as my parents’ menorah has been retired and I admit without shame that I shed some tears as memories flitted through my mind. Now Mark and I will have new memories to make and share with a new display piece.

I hope that your holiday celebrations are fun and festive and whichever holidays or events you observe are warm and fulfilling.

Chag Sameach (Happy Holidays)

My parents' electric Menorah

Back to school ~ #MondayBlogs

Our local schools open next week. It's been several years since either of my offspring were students in the local school system... somehow though I still tend to feel a bit morose over the idea of summer being over.

As a child I remember my mom having tears in her eyes the first day of school EVERY YEAR. My sister and I were always filled with the excitement of new adventures, showing off new outfits which Mommy sewed for us, painstakingly printing our names on brand new marble composition books, and looking forward to the fun of the nights sitting with our parents cutting open brown paper grocery bags to cover our school textbooks. Yet Mommy still looked sad as she sent us off that early September morning.

While our offspring were in school, my sister and I would commiserate by phone every September even as our children headed off with the same wide-eyed anticipation my sister and I always had. We relived fun summertime family adventures and looked forward to weekends and holidays. Of course as the kids grew more and more of their out-of-school days were filled with their peers and numerous social activities.

For some reason I am still conditioned to face the beginning of the school year with dread, I don't know why. But then again I still haven't recovered from my daughter's first day of kindergarten when she marched off with a big smile and not even a look backwards.

Wishing everyone a productive school year!

Love transcends bloodlines ~ #MondayBlogs

I was involved in a recent discussion about one of my books (Within the Law) and the subject of adoption; it’s a topic discussed in the story.

Most of us view adoption as the concept of bringing a child into your home that was biologically born to someone else and raising that child as your own, a member of your family, and loving and caring for that child as a parent should. The online Free Dictionary defines adoption as: “adoption - a legal proceeding that creates a parent-child relation between persons not related by blood; the adopted child is entitled to all privileges belonging to a natural child of the adoptive parents (including the right to inherit)”. Some of these children are orphaned, other may have living biological parents who cannot, for health, finances, or age, provide a healthy home and choose to give their child a better chance at life.

Just as there are varied reasons why a child is available for adoption, there are also many reasons why parents seek to adopt. Some couples are physically unable to conceive, some choose not to conceive sometimes due to a hereditary condition, singles and same-sex couples often choose adoption over surrogacy or in-vitro, and sometimes people simply have room in their hearts and homes for another child. Whatever the reason, the result is a child growing up in a loving home and parents experiencing the joy and feelings of love that goes with raising a child. It’s a win-win for all. The concept of adoption isn’t new; it goes as far back as Moses being raised by Pharaoh’s daughter and other biblical stories.

In my book one of my characters worries about her future husband’s desire and willingness to raise and love “someone else’s child”. (He was all for it btw.) Do we really need a blood connection to love? No, not at all — millions of couples definitely not related by bloodlines manage to love each other just fine. Best friends are often found outside of the family structure and yet bonds are strong. And even the love shared between pets and owners can go tremendously deep. Blood is not a necessary ingredient; the ability to love is the only mandate.

Adopting a child is more complicated than just going to a store and making a choice. Thoroughly investigate your options and local laws governing the process. There are private and public adoption agencies. There are newborns where you actually get to meet the expectant mother [different states regulate expenses the new parents could or should contribute to the pregnancy], or arrange to meet the child shortly after birth. And there are older children, toddlers through teens, some who are recently orphaned, abandoned or have been in the foster system for a while. Meet with adoption counselors and a lawyer to fully understand what is ahead for you and the best options for both you and your adopted child.

Applying to adopt takes time, but then so does a pregnancy, and there is almost always a waiting period until that adoption is actually finalized. The child you adopt doesn’t need to be a matching race or religion; speak to your spiritual advisor if you have questions about raising your child in your faith. 

It’s all attainable and it is all rewarding.

Memories ~ #MondayBlogs

Memories are forever yours and yet there are times when the memories should be stored so that you never do forget.

Life changes, sometimes sad and more times happy, are good reasons to preserve those memories. In the fun movie 50 First Dates reminders of the past allowed the main character to move on with her life. Most of us thank goodness enjoy the ability to remember...

Baby albums which follow a child through grade school are precious memory keepers. Souvenirs from family trips help keep the fun in mind. Video-tapes, CDs and DVRs along with the older 8mm home films help to keep the images alive.

One of life's changes involves moving on such as leaving a family home for new adventures. Preparing to leave a home where children grew up, where rooms were witness to first steps, where couples grew old together can bring joyful tears and a need to hold on.

I'm making a "Memory Album" filled with my childrens' third grade paintings, greeting cards that were given to me through the years for various occasions, photographs of various keepsakes that would never survive packing and moving. Maybe paper waste to some, these memories will help to augment the ones I carry in my mind and heart.

In days to come I will be able to sit with my treasures and enjoy the past even when the past is no longer within my reach. I'm overly sentimental, I know. I look forward to my tomorrows. Everything that has happened to me has led me to where I am going and the future holds such promise.

#MondayBlogs ~ Peter Pan and the Circle of Life

With Mother’s Day just behind us (although moms will always be MOM), I find myself reflecting on my childhood and thinking about my mom and dad, both long gone, my Grandma, my aunts and uncles (most also gone) and even a few cousins, all younger than me. So many losses and I miss them all, but so many wonderful memories for me to hold on to.

When I was just five years old my paternal grandfather passed away. I remember being horrified at my dad’s tears and pain and I told my father that I never wanted to grow up. He asked me why and I told him, in my child’s frame of mind, that growing up meant that you lose people you love. I remember how he chuckled and hugged me; he told me that it could happen that way and that some order of loss was natural such as a child burying a parent.

He admitted that he was sad, but that growing up for him had meant finding his love, my mom, and having my sister and me. Daddy told me how happy he was with his life even though he had tears along the way. Although I was still frightened, my dad’s words helped me cope with the loss of my grandfather. Eighteen years later I sat at my father’s funeral and heard his words in my mind; once again he helped me cope. That year started a whirlwind of loss, eighteen days later my father-in-law passed away — in less than five years we buried both fathers and both mothers. Despite my father’s wise words, I wanted to go back to playing Peter Pan who never wanted to grow up.

Today, while I admit to thoughts about people I’ve loved and lost, I enjoyed a wonderful Mother’s Day. Because my loving husband is “under the weather” with a bad head cold we decided to have a family brunch right here. Our two children and their respective spouses (or as I prefer to say, my FOUR kids), my husband and I sat at the dining room table and enjoyed a simple but indulgent feast. While filling our plates and stuffing our mouths, there was laughter and joy. There were flowers and cards and smiles and warmth. My heart was so full with all of the riches of my life. The pangs of loss never go away, it never really gets better, but my dad was right. I grew up and have had so many wonderful things come in to my life.

My husband and I are married forty years this coming December; our daughter and her husband just celebrated their eighth anniversary; and our son and his bride just tied the knot last December after a lengthy courtship. I wish our parents were here to see their grandchildren and the wonderful people that they are, but I am sure they are looking in from heaven. My daughter is named for my mother and my son for my dad and mother-in-law and so often they remind me how appropriate the namesakes are. In the meanwhile I am celebrating my life and the memories we are making together, memories that will live on for generation, memories that will one day be the .stories told by my children and G-d willing my grandchildren… and maybe even beyond.

Life is good.

Many of my stories center around family dynamics, good and bad. Sometimes that's a challenge for me since many of my memories are on the positive side, but I do love writing about a "good" villain, lol.

Summertime reading is just around the corner, please check out my books, I am sure you can even find a few you can relate to... 

 http://chellecordero.com/

An Open Note to My Offspring ~ #MondayBlogs

Just because you are grown, married and self-supporting adults does not mean that I, as your mother, the woman who raised you, will not stop worrying about you and caring about your welfare.

A mother's heart doesn't turn off after 18-years, it doesn't even turn off after 30 or 40. And if your mother is still around when you have your own charges to worry about, she will still experience frantic moments of concern, irrational fears, and shed tears whenever you are hurting.

When I hear of mayhem and connect it, correctly or not, to the place you might be, I can't describe the paralyzing fear that I feel suspended in. When you are ill I am perfectly ready to trade places with you if only you will be well. And when you have reason to cry, your tears slice right through me with pain almost too heavy to bear.

You are my child... forever. And it is my right, not obligation, to carry you in my heart. Ironically even the children I did not raise, who became my children after becoming your love, also get a healthy share of my concern and worry. This is all just a mother's love.

And now that you are adults and making your own way in this world I adore and chuckle when you show a similar anxiety for my well-being, when you worry about my driving home from your place, or when you call me on my cell and demand "Where are you?" simply because I didn't answer my phone at home. I love the concern you have for your dad and me and maybe you can understand a tiny bit how I feel.

So when I ask you to text me when you get home or call me when you're late arriving, or I express my worries about the distance you are driving in nasty weather — laugh at me if you want, but please don't ignore my pleas. This is the way I was programmed from the moment I heard your first heartbeat, I knew I loved you and would always care about you.

Call me neurotic...

Call me a worrywart...

Call me Mom.

Happy Anniversary to My Loving Husband — #MondayBlogs

My husband and I celebrated our 39^th wedding anniversary yesterday… time flies. Thirty-nine wonderful years. I admit, there are times we had to work at it — work hard — but it has been worth it.

We went to the same high school (High School of Art & Design in NYC) but the only memory I have of him was a confrontation in the school halls when he, as an anal hall monitor, tried to stop me from going down to the auditorium between class periods. (I was a Theatre Arts student and we had a show to prepare for). It wasn’t until years later when we were both volunteers with the NYC Auxiliary Police that we really had a chance to talk with each other… and we instantly disliked each other. Thanks to the meddling of our superior officers (my own dad was our Auxiliary Captain) we finally went out on a date. Two weeks later we were engaged; our wedding date was set for December 28, 1975.

I was late to the wedding!

In my defense I had a valid excuse, my sister (my MOH) fell down a flight of stairs and in the age before cell phones I couldn’t reach Mark to let him know. Luckily he waited for me. Yes we were married with all four of our parents standing under the chuppa with us, and my sister was a real trooper and hobbled down the aisle in her everyday flat shoes instead of the dressy heels that went with her dress. It was so sweet when I spoke the words “Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li” (I am to my beloved as my beloved is to me). Mark had our wedding rings engraved “plus qu'hier, moins que demain"(More than yesterday, less than tomorrow).

After the ceremony my mom, with all the stress of planning and then worry over my sister’s accident, had a diabetic reaction and spent most of the afternoon lying in the bridal suite — she refused to let us call an ambulance. By the end of the reception she was feeling better and soon it was time to leave.

We planned to spend the first night of our married life in our own apartment in Rockland County so we drove IN A BLIZZARD from Queens over the Tappan Zee Bridge. By the time we reached the garden apartment complex I was in tears from worry about my mom and my sister. Since we didn’t  have a phone installed in the apartment Mark found a pay phone (in 1975 that was all we had). The snow drift was piled so high and Mark in his tuxedo carried me in my bridal gown over the snow. All was well back in the Bronx and we were able to relax back in our own apartment. The next morning we traversed semi-plowed snow covered roads to the Poconos for our honeymoon and we enjoyed the holidays and our first New Year’s Eve as Mr. and Mrs.

Through the years we suffered the loss of all four parents in a relatively short time period. We also celebrated the birth of two fantastic children [a daughter and a son], job and career changes, a house with a yard for the kids to play, and watching them as they grew and experienced life and the world. There were money problems and health issues, arguments and making up, laughter and tears, friendships that came and went, public accolades in our respective careers, family births, and the loss of some dear relatives. We’ve celebrated holidays with our sisters and their families, got to witness graduations, bar and bat mitzvahs and weddings for the next generation. Both of our children are married now, and our in-law children are wonderful, and we’re at the empty-nester stage and talking about eventual retirement. It’s definitely been a “ride”.

Sometimes our plans went astray, but we’ve adapted TOGETHER. Our marriage has been a lot of work and it definitely has worked for us.

The biggest constant throughout our married life has always been that I have woken every single morning having fallen more in love than I was the day before — and he has always shown me that it goes both ways.

I love you, Mark. Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.

A Few of My Favorite Things

A Day to Be Grateful...

Traditionally Americans are coerced into reciting all of the things they are thankful for before feasting on gluttonous meals yearly on the fourth Thursday in November. Several other cultures celebrate similar days of thanks as well. Hopefully each one of us remembers to appreciate and be grateful for all that we have the other 364 days in the year.

Before I sit at my family's Thanksgiving table tomorrow, I wanted to take the time to thank all of my readers - blogs, books and articles - and all of my social network friends for allowing me room in their lives. My wish for each of you is to have many, many, MANY reasons to be grateful every day.

I feel the need to mention just some of the things I thank G-d for everyday: My husband, our children and their soul-mates, our combined siblings and their families, our cousins, extended family and mishpocha (relatives through blood & marriage), our cats and other family pets,the professionals I get to work with in a job I love, my publisher and fellow authors at VHP, the friendships I've made through work, a warm home, my needs being met and lots of hopes and dreams we are all working towards. I am thankful for so many of the people I've known in my life, even several who are no longer present, and the experiences and joys I've been allowed to see. I've been blessed to find some of my closest friends among the very people I call family, and friends who have become family. I can earnestly say It IS a Wonderful Life.

May you and yours enjoy all of the goodness 

and blessings of the day

 and forever have reason to be thankful! 

This is dedicated to the ones I love...

Changes ~ #MondayBlogs

Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears
(from Fiddler on the Roof)

Life seems to change so rapidly, every day presents new experiences and opportunities. Our married daughter and her husband moved out-of-state last year (not far thankfully), our son is getting married the end of this year, and hubby and I (AND the cats) are thinking of downsizing.

Yikes, to think of packing up a home that we’ve been in for more than three decades is monumental! And yet despite my aversion to cleaning, throwing out the excess, and packing dozens of boxes, the thought of moving on with my husband of nearly 40-years is attractive. I’m entertaining myself with dreams of having an idyllic empty-nester dream home. I admit there is more than a bit of sentimentality about the idea of leaving this home where we raised our family…

Right now it’s a dream, a vision, a plan, but it is definitely one we are heading towards with no specific timetable. Just one of the adventures we look forward to in this ever-changing world.

What ‘ya gonna do?

In one of those “kids say the darnedest things moments” when they spill the family secrets, a neighbor’s son told me “my parents always say that if it happens outside my door, I don’t need to get involved”. I wanted to ask if his parents explained what kind of things he shouldn't be involved in – was it the argument overheard next door or the cry for help from a stranger? In the end, I decided not to question the youngster.

How much do we involve ourselves in the lives of others? And where do we draw the line?

What would you do if you knew a child was in trouble and possibly being abused by one of the adults she yearns to trust? There are some people who, by the nature of their jobs, are legally required to report all suspected child abuse such as teachers, doctors, police officers, and child care providers to name just a few. Any adult who lives with the child who has been abused is also legally required to report the situation although all too often these people are either involved in the abuse or complicity denying the existence.

What about the rest of us, what is our moral obligation to report when we've seen a child in distress with repeated and multiple bruises, or worse?

We need to learn to recognize the signs of abuse and not deny that it might be happening. Severe injuries, multiple bruises from obviously different occasions, fear at the idea of going home, a lack of medical care for illness or injury, detailed tales of sexual activity, consistently unkempt appearance, or frequent and constant hunger MAY be signs we should pay attention to. If a child comes to you with a blatant cry for help and story of an abusive situation, it shouldn’t be discounted without consideration. And as the parent of a child who once screamed for help standing at her bedroom window when she was angry for being sent to her room for a time-out, I am aware that sometimes things CAN be misunderstood.

If we must err though, we should err on the side of the child’s safety. Child protective agencies exist in every region and depending on the size of your municipality maybe even in your city. If you suspect the possibility of child abuse contacting them may very well be the first step in saving a child’s life. The staff at these offices are trained to determine if the information you provide is enough to warrant a more thorough investigation so they will ask you questions such as what you witnessed, if you've seen former evidence, and how well you know the people involved (to assess your vantage point). Your name will be kept out of it if they decide to investigate so you shouldn't worry about repercussions. Unless it can be proven that you maliciously reported a false case, you are immune to any consequences. Cases will be investigated and any actions taken will be done in the best interests of the child.

When I researched information for my novel Bartlett’s Rule, I came across survivors of childhood abuse and one of the things repeatedly stated was why people who knew didn't do anything to help. Physical and emotional scars never go away. Children are vulnerable and often not able to speak up and explain what is happening to them – but if we suspect abuse, we should do something to help. It's the right thing.