Another Stroll Down Memory Lane

I flew to Western Massachusetts last weekend to attend my 35th “high school” reunion. To say that both my heart and my mind were filled with sentimental nostalgia is somewhat of an understatement. Driving into Pittsfield from Boston was fun. My friend Caroline and I spent the time catching up and comparing notes as to what our expectations were. As we turned off the Mass. Turnpike and headed north towards Pittsfield, things seemed to be vaguely familiar. It was as if our memories were starting to awaken after a long slumber.


Memory is a wonderful thing… when it works. My Mother always told me that I had an incredible memory, and I would agree for the most part. Yet it is always somewhat surprising when I hear another person’s perception of a shared memory that contradicts my own memory. For example, my sister and I were recently regaling my cousin about the time she dumped a milkshake on my head. I had done something equally obnoxious to warrant such retaliation from her. We both agreed on that. We both had that same memory. Yet we differed on “where” it happened. I am certain that it happened at Wendy’s. She is certain that it happened at Arby’s. We both think we’re right, yet clearly, one of us is wrong. Which is it? Personally, I don’t really care. It’s just slightly annoying to spend time wondering who’s right and whose wrong, when I know I’m right. I’m kidding… because in reality, I have no clue, and have digressed.

As I sat at the opening banquet last Friday night, filled with wonder at being back at the school that I love so much, a place where I found myself, a place that saved my life, I looked around the room, filled with fellow alumni… who all appeared to love the School as much as I did. And the stories that were told… some familiar, some “new to me” resulted in laughter and maybe a few tears. Of course there were the kind of variations that come with gossip and rumors. Laughing at our antics in days gone by, I was vaguely aware of feeling… some sort of surprise when I heard of something that had happened right under my nose. “That really happened?” I’d ask. And apparently it did. Of course, I realize that it’s impossible to know everything that happened. And it was fun to see other’s having similar reactions. Someone described it as gaps in our memories coming alive, almost like finding missing pixels from a digitized photo… one blurry, now a bit more clear.

The weekend flew by. It was a wonderful time- reconnecting with friends… connecting with new friends, who have in common a very special place called Miss Hall’s School. It's comforting to know, that we change, places change... many things stay the same.  With appreciation for the many changes we discovered, there was still so much that had stayed the same.  And for that, I was and am incredibly grateful.

Miss Hall's School Alma Mater

In lofty splendor, stand the Berkshires fair,

And there we know no sorrow, pain or care,

For there we always happy are -- and free.

Oh loyal Gold and Blue we sing to thee.

In after years when we are far apart,

Thy name will always ring in every heart.

No matter how far distant we may be,

Oh MHS we will remember thee.

Verteran's Day - 2010

I think of many things when November 11th rolls around each year. The first thought I think of is, my Grandfather... who was born on November 11th. He died when I was 6 and I have a few memories of him; all wonderful ones of course. The sad thing is, as I'm writing this, I'm trying to remember if he was a Veteran. I'm pretty sure he was... and this is something I'll have to find out!

The second thing I think of is my Father, who was a Veteran. He served in the United States Navy during the Korean War. He enlisted with his first cousin and best friend on the heels of World War II, when patriotism was soaring. They both left college to serve, and both returned to college at the end of their 4 years. My Father never saw battle, but he was emphatically proud to be an American, and proud to have served his country.

The third thing I think of is my own childhood... growing up during the Viet Nam era... hearing whispers of my parents when a friends son had been killded or wounded in combat. I remember eagerly ordering my POW bracelet, and wearing it proudly. I wish I could remember the name of the soldier on that bracelet, or his fate. I remember when the war ended and feeling relieved. I was not aware, however, of the way the soldiers were treated upon coming home. It was a while until I realized that soldiers returning home from Viet Nam were not treated the same way as soldiers from previous battles.

I remember Desert Storm, and watching it every night on tv. I remember Arthur Kent aka "The Scud Stud", a correspondent for NBC who reported live every night.... and I thought was very cute. It was the worst kind of reality tv... a train wreck that you couldn't look away from... that I was compelled to watch every single night, terrified, yet dazzled at the same time. And of course, I remember our most recent and ongoing wars in Iraq and now Afghanistan. They are absolutely horrible, and I cringe when I watch the news and see young men and women shipping out.

These are terrifying times, and at times devastating to families all accross this nation. Movies and television often romanticize war... but there is nothing remotely romantic about war. War is a "necessary evil", and our soldiers are fighting to preserve our freedom, and the freedom of those around the world. Thank you to all the Men and Women who have served in the past, who are serving now and who will serve in the future. God Bless them all.

In closing, here is a prayer (from the New St. Joseph People’s Prayer Book ) for all who serve, past, present and future:

Prayer on Veterans Day

Dear Lord Jesus Christ,

those whom we honor today are examples of your words:“Greater love than this no one has: that he lay down his life for his friends.” They gave up their lives in defense of freedom for their loved ones and their country.

Teach me to appreciate the virtue of patriotism -a true and Christian love of country. Let me love my country not to follow it blindly but to make it the land of goodness that it should be. Let my patriotism be such that it will not exclude the other nations of the world but include them in a powerful love of country that has room for all others too. Amen

A Christian Connection to Halloween

I love Halloween. I always have. In fact, I have clear memories of my Dad saying that Halloween was his favorite holiday. Of course he said that about Thanksgiving.... and he was pretty big on Christmas too! :) That said... Halloween has been a big tradition and a big favorite during my life time on this earth.

Some of my dearest memories are of going to "Groby's Garden Center" and picking out the perfect pumpkin. This was almost as challenging as picking out the perfect Christmas Tree. The Carving of the pumpkin was my Dad's job, but we were there to help clean out the pumpkin and separate the seeds, which we would later roast. Beggars night was always exciting... choosing our constumes, going out with our cousins and seeing friends along the way. It was pure fun! Years later, after my Father died, I began taking a small pumpkin down to the cemetery and placing it on his grave in honor of his love of Halloween.

As I began my faith journey and eventual conversion to Catholicism, it became very clear that many of my Christian Brothers and Sisters frowned on the holiday, and suggested that in celebrating Halloween, I embracing evil. Now I will not deny that that I am a sinner.... but I do not choose to embrace evil, black magic or the dark arts. I am a Christian, and my heart belongs to God, to His son Jesus Christ and to the Holy Spirit. So before tossing out all my Halloween decorations and traditions, I decided to do some research about the origins of Halloween and the Christian connection to Halloween. Happily, I have learned quite a bit!

From the American Catholic website, I learned:

"The true origins of Halloween lie with the ancient Celtic tribes who lived in Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Brittany. For the Celts, November 1 marked the beginning of a new year and the coming of winter. The night before the new year, they celebrated the festival of Samhain, Lord of the Dead. During this festival, Celts believed the souls of the dead—including ghosts, goblins and witches—returned to mingle with the living. In order to scare away the evil spirits, people would wear masks and light bonfires.

When the Romans conquered the Celts, they added their own touches to the Samhain festival, such as making centerpieces out of apples and nuts for Pomona, the Roman goddess of the orchards. The Romans also bobbed for apples and drank cider—traditions which may sound familiar to you. But where does the Christian aspect of the holiday come into play?

In 835, Pope Gregory IV moved the celebration for all the martyrs (later all saints) from May 13 to November 1. The night before became known as All Hallow’s Even or “holy evening.” Eventually the name was shortened to the current Halloween. On November 2, the Church celebrates All Souls Day.

The purpose of these feasts is to remember those who have died, whether they are officially recognized by the Church as saints or not. It is a celebration of the “communion of saints,” which reminds us that the Church is not bound by space or time.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church says that through the communion of saints “a perennial link of charity exists between the faithful who have already reached their heavenly home, those who are expiating their sins in purgatory and those who are still pilgrims on earth. Between them there is, too, an abundant exchange of all good things” (#1475). "

And so, in this spirit, I will continue to decorate for Halloween, to put pumpkins on my Father's grave and to hand out candy to trick or treaters, and to enjoy Autumn, and all it's riches and blessings. God Bless each and every one of you!

Lilac Memories

Wow!!! Two blogs in one day! My "muses of inspiration" are clearly busy and quite inspired.

When we got home from work today, after walking and feeding the dogs, I started to get ready to go visit my Mother. I glanced outside and saw our lilac bush. And then I had an inspiration. I found a pair of scissors and went out and cut a few sprigs. I took them inside and put them into a pretty glass filled with water and left to go visit Mother.

As I was driving, I suddenly was filled with the memory of my Father. One spring day, when we were very young... we came home from school for lunch. I think I was in the 3rd grade and Lilli must have been in the first grade. We had huge lilac bushes in our back yard. I remember him going out and cutting enough springs to make two seemingly large bouquets... one for my teacher and one for Lilli's teacher.

He was very methodical in putting the bouquets together. He soaked paper towels in water and wrapped them around the stems. Then he wrapped them in aluminum foil, and finally he wrapped the stems of the bouquet in newspaper. The bouquets were huge. I can remember the excitement to give them to my teacher. I can remember the pride I felt as we walked the two blocks to school. I remember people looking at them, and commenting on how pretty they were.

Once inside the school, I remember grinning as other teachers oohed and awed over how pretty the bouquets were. And of course I remember my teacher, Mrs. Faga's reaction. She was thrilled, and was profuse in her praise and thanks. I think I must have glowed all afternoon.

So it was with all these thoughts flying through my memory that I walked in to the nursing home. And yes, people looked at my bouquet of lilacs.. they had the same appreciative looks as people all those years ago. And when I entered my Mother's room... she looked at the flowers and smiled nostalgically. "They remind me of home" she said. I smiled and said "I know...... do you remember when Daddy made those bouquets?"

And she smiled and said yes. It was a lovely moment filled with love and shared memories.