Category: Friends and Family

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!

Mary Ann

I bet you thought that I would be writing about meeting George and Amal Clooney at a market in Provence, France.  I wish.  However, this blog is about another George and Amal Clooney who live in my neighborhood – a pair of red foxes.

Last December we started seeing two beautiful red foxes in our backyards.  They were courting, and the male was wooing his pretty redheaded vixen.  Hopefully, a family would result from all this romancing.  We hoped too that they would set up housekeeping in a den nearby. During this time, everyone on my lane called each other when we had a fox sighting.  Everything stopped to watch them chase each other.  

We decided to call the pair George and Amal Clooney.  George was the voice of Mr. Fox in the animated film The Fantastic Mr. Fox.  The foxes were equally as handsome as the original Clooneys.  They were the stars of our neighborhood!  Then suddenly they disappeared.  We missed them so much.  They brough such joy to all our lives. 

Time passed, and George and Amal showed up on the other side of our townhouse complex.  They settled behind a set of townhouses in a lovely, wooded area with a little stream running through it – a wonderful place to raise their kits. George and Amal then had their babies and the other half of the complex got to see them grow up.  I did not. I was and am GREEN!!!  The neighbors still call one another with each fox sighting.  The Clooneys have enchanted everyone and united the whole neighborhood in a unique way. 

However, I had my National Geographic moment. I was driving past the pond on a rainy day, and I spotted Amal hunting along the edge of the water.  As a mother, she now had several mouths to feed, and as the kits grew so did their appetites.  Amal was intensely searching for a mouse. Then, she leaped into the air in an arc that is a common fox hunting technique. She missed the mouse. At that moment, I lowered my car window to take a picture, and it made an eeeeeeeeee sound which caught her attention.  She looked right at me. and our eyes locked. This went on for like 30 seconds. We were looking into each other’s souls. Then she started to walk towards me.  OMG, was she going to yell at me for the eeeeeeeee sound and ruining her mouse hunt?  Meanwhile, I am fumbling around trying to find my phone in my purse and turn it on to get a photo.  Amal was still moving towards me then she turned and went over the bridge running in front of the car into the woods.  I finally found the phone and did get a shot of Amal running by me before she ducked into the woods. I shall never forget this encounters, a truly priceless moment for me.

The foxes have united our community in such a fun way.  With a world full of turmoil and negativity, George and Amal have brightened so many lives, and now there is another generation to carry it on.  I am still GREEN! 

Note – If you notice, Amal’s tail has no fur on it.  She probably has mange.  I have been in touch with our local wildlife center to figure out how to help her. They suggested we could trap her in the fall after her babies are grown and treat her.  The kits need her now.  However, her kits and probably George will get mange from her.  His tail is very bushy.  Apparently, a healthy animal can recover from mange, but if you read about it online, there is not much hope and so much suffering for the animal.  The history of mange is heartbreaking and why wild animals have it.  You can research all of this on the Internet if interested. 

To avoid insulting any of our readers, I submit my disclaimer at the top. No one is drunk! So, how did this all come about?

For years my sister had told me how fun Bunco has been for her.  I had no clue what Bunco was other than some kind of card game.  I have never been great at card games. A couple of times I tried my hand at Bridge but found that players were quite serious. Game is a play or sport, which to me signals fun. Taking a game seriously wasn’t my cup of tea, so to speak.

A friend of mine invited me to join a group of women who thought they may enjoy a monthly game of Bunco.  I attended the organizational meeting to learn about the game and to visit with other women while eating luscious food with a glass of wine.

At the meeting guidelines for participation were set. We were to meet once a month, rotating hostesses. We would serve wine and hors d’oeuvres and limit the ante to $10. Each of us left believing we had a game plan (excuse the pun) and looking forward to the next month’s gathering.

The following month we met once again to play Bunco. Appetizers and wine were served as we awaited the arrival of someone who actually knew how to play Bunco. That person never arrived. So we ate, had a glass or two of wine, and visited happily. We would learn how to play the next month.

The third get-together arrived and … you guessed it! No one knew how to play Bunco. We decided our best option was simply to get together once a month to chat, eat, and have a glass of wine. One of the girls laughingly said, “Well, here we are. The Drunko Bunco ladies.”  We all had a good laugh. When the invitation went out to gather the next month, the email subject line said: Drunko Bunco. So here we are, several years later, meeting regularly for dinner and a glass of wine and not playing cards.

One of my acquaintances recently had shoulder replacement surgery. I was among several friends who gladly provided meals for her and her husband. I knew how helpful a few prepared, home-cooked meals would be.

I was reminded of the time several years ago when I had a bone removed from my wrist and a plate installed to keep my hand from flopping around.  The visual is comical; the surgery was not.

When I am not feeling well, I just want to sleep – uninterrupted.  So I told my friends I did not need anything from them. Even my mother came to stay. I asked her not to keep coming into my room to “check on me.” It was disconcerting trying to sleep, knowing someone was watching every few minutes. (Several years later, my mother still complains that I didn’t want her help. I had hurt her feelings, unintentionally.)

A couple of weeks into recovery my arm was still puffed up like a balloon and I was in major pain. I did not want to take pain pills that make one’s mind do weird things while I was alone. My cousin came with food she had picked up from Whole Foods. Several different and yummy dishes.  She opened the containers and lightly put the lids over the top, as I had no use of my hand. She saved me!  From that moment on, I realized how important it is to let people help me.

I like helping others. When they don’t accept my help, it takes away my joy. With that in mind, I learned when people offer to help it is because they want to help; not because they feel obligated. Being a gracious recipient is harder for many women than being a gracious provider. We need to remember to accept help as readily as we offer to give.

Do you remember at the end of the eighties, in fact 1987, when Rosamond Pritchard’s Shell Seeker became an international best seller?  Pritchard is a wonderful storyteller and at the time she had a huge following. Her stories captured family dynamics, warts and all, in a magical and engaging way.  

I really don’t remember the plot, but there is a line in the book that has stayed with me for all these years.  It was “The best gift parents could give their children was their independence.” I hope I got that right.  I was a parent at the time, yet I don’t think I really understood the power of those words.  As my parents aged, I began to appreciate what Pritchard was saying.  My parents gave my brother and me a precious gift in staying independent as long as they could take care of themselves and when they couldn’t, they had saved money for long-term care in their home.  This allowed us the freedom to have our own lives.  So many people today are caring for elderly family members, and their lives are not their own.  They care with love and dedication.  God Bless them.  However, their lives revolve around another person. It is wearing on everyone.

Now that I am older, I am tying very hard to follow my parents’ example.  I want to give this gift of my independence to my own children so they can have their own lives.  I have tried to put away as much money as I can, live as healthy as I can, and prepare my home for mature living while I can.  As people live longer, the care of the elderly will have to be addressed as a society. Only 7% of older people have long-term care policies. Those policies are expensive and limiting.  Unless you are rich, this is going to be a challenge for most people with their parents.  

This is the time to think about all of this for yourself.  Let Rosamond Pritchard’s words ring true and guide you to make some important decisions about your and your children’s future.

Note: Ms. Pritchard’s books have been reissued so you still get them on Amazon.  There are some Shell Seeker movies on Netflix as well.  I intend to reread the Shell Seekers whose words helped shape my world. 

Mary Ann

Fourth of July. Independence Day. Whatever you call it, today is a day to celebrate America.  Although the forefathers declared independence on July 2^nd, the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776.  Or so the story goes.

For Americans, the national holiday occurs as the temperatures are warming  … or should I say, heating up. The day is filled with parades, cookouts, and fireworks viewed with family and friends.   Children drip popsicles on their sneakers and dads smear barbeque sauce on sizzling meats.

It is a day to honor our country with its official colors – Red, White, and Blue.

“The Star Spangled Banner”, “Proud to be an American”, “Stars and Stripes Forever”, and countless other patriotic songs fill the air. People are friendlier as if celebrating Christmas in July.

For me, it is a day … or a week … to remember my sweet brother who was a proud American. Having served in the Army when the military still had a draft, my brother was always patriotic. Maybe it was fitting that he was passing during last year’s celebration. At 74 his body finally gave out the morning after.

I remember just days before hospice brought a hospital bed for his last days on earth, how important it was to him to ensure a fresh, untattered flag was flying in front of his home. As he struggled to changed out flags and attach the new one to the pole, I ran to the garage in an effort to find better string. I found fishing wire, which worked perfectly.  Once secured, he put the flag pole over his shoulder, stepped up to his walker, and shuffled across the long porch. He struggled to maneuver down three steps making his way to the driveway and the location of the bracket.

He wanted to hang the flag himself. When it didn’t sit quite right, I asked if I could help him lift the pole to the next level of the bracket.  Seated properly, he stared reverently at Old Glory – the Red and White stripes and the White stars on the blue background waving in the breeze, a nod to his love for his Country. Then he turned and made his way back up the steps, across the porch, and into the house, where he immediately sat down and repositioned the oxygen feed to his face. The struggle was real.

At that time, and now – a year later, I am reminded how freedom is not free. Hundreds of thousands of men and women have made the ultimate mental and physical sacrifices for us to be able to celebrate this day. My wish for today is that each person who lives on American soil will take at least a brief moment to reflect. Sure, America has challenges. Yet, we are still lucky to live in this country. To enjoy freedom and independence. Yes, I am proud to be an American. Happy 4^th!

Cynthia