Category: Friends and Family

Mary Ann

My mother had a chicken lamp that was her pride and joy. She saved a $1.00 a week for 35 weeks to buy her coveted lamp.  Remember those days when you put items on layaway? That was a healthy price for the 50s. However, the lamp did not feel very mid-century.  It had a brown shade with a yellow ruffle, and it was a chicken.  It didn’t matter, she loved her lamp!

One day my mother was off to the store which was down the street from our house, and my little brother, Timmy, and I, were left home alone and were to take care of one another. This was a time when younger children were given much more freedom.  We were about 6 and 8 years old at the time.  At any rate, we were expected to behave and keep out of trouble.

Well, as soon as mother left to do her shopping, we, of course, began fighting and chasing one another around the house.  I believe that Timmy was chasing me, and he plowed into the chicken lamp knocking it over and breaking the head off.  (He may tell this differently.) OMG, the world was ending.  We were doomed.  Mother was going to kill us for a multitude of reasons; namely, her chicken lamp was broken, her precious chicken lamp.

So being the older, wiser child, I decided that we would not confess our sins.  So, we put the head back on the chicken and became the most well-behaved children occupying ourselves with Timmy playing with his farm set and me reading.   If mother discovered the damaged chicken lamp, we would deny everything.  This was the first time that brother and sister conspired to save their necks.  We were taking this to our graves.  

It is amazing that neither of us said anything.  I would have been in trouble for not supervising Timmy better, and he would have been in trouble for breaking the beloved lamp. So, time passed, and the head held.  Mother cleaned the lamp, and the head did not fall off. The head remained steady even during a move to our new house.  It is not fun waiting for a shoe to drop.  At any moment, our sins could be revealed.  

Time passed; years passed.  The chicken lamp remained on a revered spot in the living room on a round, maple table. The chicken head held firm to the point that we began to forget about it until one Sunday afternoon.  My father’s brother and family were visiting.  Their son, our cousin Gregory, walked over to the lamp, and he touched his finger to the tip of the chicken’s beak.   Plop, the head fell to the tabletop.  Timmy and I looked at one another across the room, and our eyes locked.  Gregory was going to be the one in trouble. He would take the fall, and neither one of us spoke up.  That moment sealed the bond between us.  This was going to the grave with us.  Gregory was just a little guy, so he wasn’t going to get in trouble for “breaking “the lamp.  He just touched it.  Everyone was sorry, and my mother ended up glueing the chicken head back on the chicken body.  All was well.  How did we ever get away with this? 

Now, for the backstory.  First, Greg if you are reading this, we are sorry we let you take the blame.  Timmy as a child was a naughty little boy, and we have many Timmy stories in our family that I will share in the future.  Timmy became a teacher and an outstanding school guidance counselor when he grew up. Never give up on a child. Redemption is always there.  

Apparently, not for me.  The Berenstain Bears have a story on honesty (The Berenstain Bears and The Truth) that is centered around the children breaking a lamp. The book was written 30 years after our crime. There must be a lot of children breaking lamps.  Those little bears confessed, but they didn’t have a Cousin Gregory to lay the blame.  We didn’t confess to our mother until we were in our 50s, and she was in her 70s. We figured it was safe to fess up! She wasn’t mad and had no idea that had happened.  We felt lighter and didn’t have to take the sin to our graves! 

Mary Ann 

Have you ever taken a group tour for a travel adventure with companies like Viking or Smartours?  You are with around 30 people, and often you click with some of the people you meet. For the duration of the trip, you become fast friends, and at the end of the journey, you exchange addresses and contact info to keep in touch.  Time passes, and you are lucky if you get a Christmas card.   Occasionally, however, magic happens, and the friendships take root on the trip and blossom in the coming years!  

I have been blessed twice with such friendships.  On a trip to Africa, I found one of my best friends, and we have taken several trips together and have enjoyed NYC when I lived there – she is a New Yorker.  We are very compatible travel buds, and laughter comes easily to us. What a blessing!  

On another trip in 2012 to Costa Rica, I met a group of people who were from New York City and New Jersey.  There were 7 of us (two couples and three singles) who have kept in touch meeting several times a year to dine and do local adventures.  We explored Greenwich Village with the New Yorkers leading the tours and walked the Brooklyn Bridge and toured the Dumbo area of Brooklyn.  We did a day exploring an outdoor sculpture garden and have attended plays. When we are together, it is non-stop talking, and everyone gets along so well. We call ourselves The Costa Rica Gang. 

Sometimes we do major trips together.  Several of us went on tours to Morocco and Egypt. Other members of the gang have taken smaller trips together or meet up for dinner in New York in small groups.  My African bestie has joined our group several times and is often part of the adventures.

I have used the word together in most of the sentences in this blog.  It is the word that best describes us.  The Costa Rica Gang is the kindest and most adventurous group of people I know.  We are in regular contact sharing our life experiences.  There have been medical challenges, and we have supported each other through them.  I know if I needed help, these people would be there for me.  I would be there for them.  

How did I get so lucky to have been blessed with these people in my life?  I am richer for knowing them. I cannot say enough good about them. I hope they see this blog as a love letter to them.  I look forward to our future adventures – together! 

Note: 

If you meet people on a trip and you can see a lasting friendship, try to really stay in touch.  You must reach out to them and make some plans.  Great Travel Buds are priceless. Remember those friendship can grow and be a meaningful part of your life. You will never regret the effort. 

Mary Ann

My mother loved jewelry.  Anything shiny and sparkly, and it was a special treat when I got to explore her jewelry box.  I would try on the rings and bracelets pretending I was a princess.  However, there was a little silver bell that nestled in one of the compartments on the top tray of the jewelry box.   I was fascinated by that bell.  It had a little goat on one side and some words that I didn’t know, and when you jiggled the bell, it had the sweetest sound like fairies laughing.  

I coveted that bell and would beg my mother for it throughout the years, and she would always say it is not time.  I am sure she knew if she gave it to me when I was too young, I would lose it.  She was much wiser than I.  Years passed and sometime in my 40s she gave me the bell.  I guess it was time.  It was also when I found out the meaning of the bell.

My father had gotten the bell on the Isle of Capri when he was on R and R during WWII.  The little silver bells were made by the monks of St. Michelle and represented good fortune and protection.  Pilots like my father and paratroopers bought them and often pinned them inside their uniforms.  Most of the bells had four leaf clovers (one leaf is for fame, one for wealth, one for a faithful lover, and the fourth for health) or other good luck symbols.  My father’s had a goat on it.  I am sure he picked it because he loved animals and was from a farm family.  Under the goat is the word Capri and on the back is the inscription La Campanella Della Fortuna which means bell of good luck.  

The legend behind the bells is the story of a young, poor shepherd boy who lost his only sheep and followed the sound of a bell to find it. Saint Michael then appeared to the boy at the edge of a cliff saving him from falling, and Saint Michael gave the bell to him for protection. The bells today are a symbol of Capri bringing joy and good fortune, a little bit of heaven, to whoever wears them.  They can also stand for peace.  At the end of World War II, Capris gave a replica of the bells to President Roosevelt, and it exhibited at the Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum in New York.

After I was given the bell, I put it on a chain and wore it often.  It always made my father happy when I did.  He always commented on it.  If I wore it around my grandchildren or my students at school, they would always ask me to bend down so they could ring the bell.  They could hear the fairies laughing.  

When my father passed, I began to wear the bell all the time.  It keeps me close to him.  It brings me peace, joy, and a bit of luck just as St. Michael had wanted. It kept my father safe during WWII.  It is my most valuable piece of jewelry, truly priceless.  And I am thankful that my mother made me wait until it was time for me to appreciate its meaning.  

February is quickly approaching … and you know what means! Several opportunities to celebrate during the cold winter month. Once such celebration is Groundhog Day!

This year, Punxsutawney Phil will emerge from hibernation on Sunday, February 2, at 7:20 am. According to legend, if the furry marmot sees his shadow on a sunny day, he will retreat, meaning six more weeks of winter. If on the other hand he does not see his shadow, spring is just around the corner.  On a cloudy day, he takes it as a sign of spring and stays above ground. It’s always been a bit counterintuitive to me … sunny day – more winter. Hmmm.  If I were Phil, I would stay in my cozy burrow with my partner Phyllis and my two young kits Shadow and Sunny.

 “Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers, Sage of Sages, Prognosticator of Prognosticators, and Weather-Prophet Extraordinary” is the most famous groundhog according to the Farmer’s Almanac.  The first recorded Groundhog Day celebration was in 1886 in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, making it the oldest of such celebrations. Likely, due to the 1993 movie Groundhog Day starring Bill Murray and Andie McDowell, the day has been elevated to pop culture status. Now, several Groundhog Day celebrations are held throughout the United States and Canada.

Digging into historical traditions, some say Groundhog Day has morphed from the pagan holiday Imbolc and the Feast of Candlemas. A Scottish prophecy indicated that a sunny day on Candlemas meant a long winter.

For me, I was always looking for ways to entertain my mom for whom I was caring.  She began to look forward to Groundhog Day, as one of many “holidays” we celebrated. Arriving just prior to Valentine’s Day, Groundhog Day was a one-day event, so it was low-key. Still, we had fun.  I found a recipe for Groundhog cupcakes which became an annual tradition. They were fun to make, yummy to eat, and for mom, she had bragging rights – something unique she could tell her sisters.

I even ordered mugs, t-shirts, and chocolates from the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club Store. Admittedly, I get a little crazy at times. But hey. We were making memories.

If you are looking for a way to brighten your winter and fight the doldrums, tune in to the Groundhog Day celebration, live streamed for those of us who can’t or don’t want to be in the cold morning air at Gobbler’s Knob. 

Last October, my sister invited me to spend the day delving into the Monsters in my Closet at her small, local church.  The conference was designed and presented by the women’s group of which she is a member. I was impressed to witness the camaraderie of women spanning young to mature and the way each and every lady in attendance supported and interacted with the others. This is a testament to the caring spirit of their character. The entire day (and the day before while setting up and decorating) demonstrated that women can and do support each other surrounding a common goal.

One of the organizers carried the theme through her creative and vibrant decorations, pulling together the colorful cute monsters from table decorations to wall décor, to serving table and beyond. My sister’s paper clip ornaments were perfect favors, and one lady’s ice breaker gave us an opportunity to “meet and greet” a variety of participants, setting the stage for an interactive retreat.

The chairwoman’s overall retreat leadership was evidenced in both her comments and the consistency of speakers and their handouts. Planning and executing such an event are tasks not for the faint of heart. Well done!

Each presenter gave us food for thought –on Pride, on Anger, on Selfishness, and on Jealousy. The presentations were informative, interesting, and fun. Another lady energized the group with her after-lunch game, offering an opportunity to re-engage minds and bodies for the afternoon.

They chose a charity to support – Refuge for Women – whose director served as a keynote speaker. Her talk was eye-opening and the support of the organization in bringing items needed and financial support was admirable.  I found it fascinating to learn of an organization that shepherds lost souls back to mainstream life, if such an opportunity truly exists for victims of sex trafficking. So sad to have these types of monsters in closets.  I was saddened to learn of the slavery that exists in 2024 and that family members are most of the perpetrators. The speaker gave us an awareness – a wakeup call, if you will.

To lighten spirits after the heartbreaking stories, a craft provided participants with a creative, hands-on outlet to carry us through the afternoon. The woman coordinating the craft had components already gathered making the exercise efficient and satisfying.

Discussion group leaders encouraged deep reflection on the ideas from earlier in the day. And the food! Oh my, these ladies were wonderful cooks and bakers! Everything was (or looked) delicious!

All-in-all the ladies – individually and collectively made an impact on everyone who attended.  I congratulate them on a successful event.  Conferences are not easy to pull off. A lot of planning before execution is required, as is strong and trustworthy leadership.

At our age we can lead, to mentor, and/or to participate in meetings and conferences. Hopefully, we will be reminded of the time and effort required by the planners and speakers and remember to compliment and thank them for a job well done.

Mary Ann

The 12 Days of Christmas starts on Christmas Day and ends on January 5th, the day before Epiphany. In our family, my grandson’s birthday is January 5^th. I decided that I was going to celebrate these 12 days in a special way for my grandchildren.  I wasn’t going to get them calling birds or a partridge in a pear tree or leaping lords.  I was going to do something unique for them starting on Christmas and ending with my grandson’s birthday.  

The first year, I went overboard and bought expensive gifts as all grandparents do.  I wrapped them all up and presented the grandchildren a box of 12 gifts each, and this was after opening all their Christmas presents. The whole idea was that they would open one gift a day until my grandson’s birthday thus celebrating the 12 Days of Christmas.  

As all children would do, they opened all the gifts at once.  My bad.  Their parents weren’t happy that I added more stuff to already too much stuff from Christmas.  My bad!  The concept was good, the execution was not.  I was going to have to rethink the whole idea.  

So, the following Christmas I got sets of 12 mini stockings that were about 4 inches tall for each grandchild and paired down the gifts to things that would fit in the little stockings.  I got the stockings at Big Lots, but Amazon, of course, offers a variety of stocking sizes and prices. I filled them with candy, a match box car, a small game, a bookmarker, money, lip gloss, and whatever action figure was the “it” toy that year.  I put the little stockings in a holiday bag and told the grandchildren that they could only open one stocking a day.  Part of the fun was reaching in the bag to pick a random stocking.  The toy or whatever occupied them for the day for the most part.  I collected the stocking after the 12 days finished to use them again the next year. And so, the tradition began.

When I suggested that I was going to stop the stockings since they were now older, there was a rebellion.  They didn’t want to stop. When they got older, I got them gift cards for iTunes or stores, movies passes, jewelry, makeup and hair adornments, and on and on.  It was good to see them still excited about Christmas and that the 12 Days of Christmas was our unique family tradition.

It was always fun for me to “shop” all year for the stockings.  I was always searching for something special for the grandchildren.  I hope this tradition will be a nice Christmas memory for them, and maybe they will do this for their children and grandchildren.  This can be a special tradition to adopt for any family. It is a fun way to celebrate the 12 Days of Christmas!  

Mary Ann

When the leaves begin to change and Thanksgiving nears, it is a good time to reflect on what we are thankful for – family, friends, health, pets, peace, freedom, safety, etc.  I think we can all look back on our schooling and remember a teacher or teachers who made a difference in our lives.  If you are reading this, that is a gift that a teacher gave to you. 

I have had a lifetime of excellent teachers.  At times, I did not always know how really good that they were.  Often, you take them for granted.  Not until later in life do you realize how lucky you were to experience that special person.

Mrs. Graham was my fourth-grade teacher, and she opened the world to her students over the years.  She would read to us right before dismissal every day.  We all loved Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn and couldn’t wait to hear of their next adventure.  She had full collections of the Old Mother West Wind series, the Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, and the Hardy Boys, and for a budding reader, it was pure treasure.  I read them all.  Mrs. Graham also introduced us to the countries of the world.  She would bring in Gouda cheese and Swiss Chocolates for us to sample.  I think she ignited my desire to travel.  I wanted to eat Gouda in the Netherlands!

Mrs. Driscoll was my fifth-grade teacher, and she had our class always working on projects. She would put up a blank bulletin board and let us create.  She would give us a theme about Christmas or Native Americans and just let us draw whatever we wanted and somehow it morphed into beautiful murals.  I modeled my own teaching on how she taught.  She made learning exciting. 

My brother and I had a unique experience in having our father teach us biology.  We were in a small school district, so everyone had my father for biology.  One year, my brother had regular biology, and I took advanced biology.  He had us both that year.  We rarely talked about his class keeping school and home separate.  We were expected to do exactly what everyone else did for biology – no breaks for us.  I am sure it was hard for him, and yet he never skipped a beat.  My brother and I love nature.   My father instilled that love in us.  He was our favorite teacher on so many levels.

When I began teaching, I wrote Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Driscoll and thanked them for all they did for me.  What I shared with you, I shared with them.  They called my mother crying.  They wanted my address and did write me back. 

 At this time of year when we remember what we are thankful for, it is a good time to thank that teacher who influenced your life.  It will make their day, maybe their year.  I occasionally get a thank you from a former student.  Those letters warmed my heart and touched my soul. 

Mary Ann

This is my family’s Veteran’s Day story – 

During WWII, my father was a P51 Mustang fighter pilot with the 15^th Air Force, 51^st Fighter Wing, Group 325, and Squadron 319 in the European Theater that included Africa, Europe, and the Middle East.  He was a member of the Checkerboard Clan – that is the tail patterns that identified the different squadrons.  Being a P51 Mustang fighter pilot in WWII was like being an X-Wing Starfighter pilot in Star War Movies – brave warriors.  He flew 51 missions. 

He was that all-American boy from small town America who was doing his duty for his country.  He was the best of the Greatest Generation. 

This is the public story, but I would like to share his own Greatest Generation Story that he shared in recent years with friends and family.  

As the Germans were leaving Greece at the end of the WWII, my father was on a mission to attack them in the former Yugoslavia.  When his group left in the morning, the weather was bad and grew worse as the day progressed.   During the mission, his plane was hit with shrapnel, and the instruments ceased to function.  Upon leaving the area, he was separated from the group.  Now lost, he was surrounded by white clouds and could not see anything.  He did not know where he was – the compass was broken.  He knew if he would fly higher, he would need oxygen, but the oxygen was not working so at that height, he would pass out and crash.  If he flew low, he could possibly run into a mountain or run out of gas and plunge into the ocean.  He had few options.   

At that moment, he said a prayer asking God for help, and the surrounding white opened with a patch of blue.  He flew through it, and he was over a river that he followed to the sea.  He was saved.  

However, it did not end there.  My father’s plane was nearly out of gas, so he had to land.  There was an island, Vis, off the coast of the former Yugoslavia that was used as a base to rescue downed pilots.   If you saw the second Mama Mia movie, that was the island of Vis. There was uncertainty about who would greet him upon landing.  There were both Serbs and Croatians on the island.  If the Serbs found you, they would turn you over to the Germans, and you would be a POW.  If the Croatians rescued you, they would help you.   Luckily, the Croatians found him, sheltered him, and got him fuel for his plane so he could fly back to Italy in the morning.

My father came back to the United States after he completed his 51 missions to prepare to leave for the Japanese Theater.  Then, Hiroshima happened, and the war ended.  He returned to civilian life; however, he remained in the Air Force Reserves until he retired in 1986.

My father and our family would not be here if it were not for that prayer.  I often say that we are all here because of a wing and a prayer.  Thank you for a well-built P51 and the grace of God.  My father, as a teacher and coach, has made a difference in the world touching the lives of countless young people.  Imagine if he had not.

Mary Ann

When I moved to South Carolina to take an administrative position in1994, I was introduced to a tradition that I have taken to heart and have practiced ever since. Someone gave me a small welcome gift that she called a Surcee.  I had not heard the term before, so I was curious what it was. The lady said it was a sweet remembrance.  

Since then, I have found online a complete definition of the word.  A Surcee is a small, unexpected gift given to express love and thoughtfulness.  The expression should be small, meaningful, can be festive, and focuses on thinking of you.  There are many spellings of Surcee – cercie, surcie, circi, seary, or sirces, but the meaning is all the same.  Originally, the tradition came from Scotland and Ireland, and today it is centered in the Carolinas.

This tradition was right up my alley.  I used to make small gifts for my students when I was in the classroom, and they were surcees.  I didn’t know it.  In South Carolina, I began doing yearly themes with my faculty and would give surcees throughout the year to let the teachers know I was thinking of them and to encourage and inspire them as they taught.  When I moved to New York City for another administrative position, I carried on the practice.   

Then I retired, and I still make surcees for the holidays for my friends, neighbors, doctors, and other people who help me.  It always surprises my neighbors when they open their mailboxes and find a treat of some sort! It really surprises the doctors.  I don’t think people remember their doctors in this way; however, they seem to really appreciate a small token of kindness.

 Surcees are not expensive.  I often go to The Dollar Tree and get holiday containers such as little Halloween bucket or plastic hearts and fill them with holiday candies.  I do buy foiled-wrapped chocolates at a local chocolate shop, and that is a bit pricey but so yummy!  You can buy little cellophane bags that you fill the same way then tie with pretty ribbon. You put together a little assembly line and in no time, you are done! 

I put the surcees in the mailboxes or at the front doors of neighbors.  I take surcees to a Valentine dinner, for example, as favors.  I take them to doctor’s appointments and end our time together with a surcee that I usually put in a little bag, so they aren’t carrying around a little ghost bucket.  It makes me happy to make other people happy.   It is worth all the work to make someone smile.

Why not try making surcees for the people in your life?  It can be a surprise for them, but it will be a bigger surprise for you how happy it makes you.

Some of my friends have lamented they are finding themselves alone for dinner.  In the past, many of us refused to go to a restaurant without a friend, a date, or possibly another family member. Personally, I rarely went to a restaurant alone, even when on a business trip.  It just felt awkward. Upon reflection, I imagine it was more a lack of self-confidence.  I mean, I ate.  I ate alone. Yet, I was alone in my hotel room or at home.

Have you dined alone this year?  If so, you are in good company.  OpenTable reported that 60% of Americans have dined alone at least once in 2024.  That figure is up 29% over the previous two years. One reason for this may be because people are working remotely. Or they are marrying later and thus living alone (which is quite a conjecture, in my humble opinion). Debby Soo, CEO at OpenTable suggests enjoying one’s own company is a result of the broader movement of self-care.

Reflecting on dining alone made me think.  At our age, many of us are finding ourselves alone for the first time, having lost a spouse or a family member or a friend. It’s a hazard of aging. Another reason may be that we are more discerning about how we spend our time and with whom. We no longer feel obligated to go out with acquaintances just to be with someone, especially those we tolerate, rather than enjoy.

I have spent most of my adult life as a single, professional, woman. I recall decades ago coming to the realization that I can enjoy dining alone.  I took to heart an article I read that suggested setting a lovely table, even if it is only for myself. That must be part of the reason I began tablescaping. Over the years I have found gazing out the window, listening to music, or enjoying the flicker of a candle while eating was as satisfying as being in a restaurant.

On another note, when eating at a restaurant, I would take along a notepad or a book.  If I began to feel conspicuous, I would simply pull out the book and read or jot notes about things that needed to be done.

In other words, I learned eating alone gave me another level of independence and confidence. And, when the opportunity presents itself to share mealtime with another person, I will always enjoy the company, knowing it is a choice, rather than feeling the need to have a dining partner. Bon appetite!