Category Archives: Uncategorized

Sep11

REMEMBERING 911

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It was a sunny Tuesday morning, and I had just sat down to eat a bowl of Rice Krispies with peaches.  I was starting a new job in a few days and was savoring the last of my leisurely mornings as I turned on the news to catch up with the daily events.  The channel that was on showed a puzzled Katie Couric saying, “A plane accident has occurred at the Twin Towers.” As the camera panned to a live view, another plane appeared out of nowhere and crashed into the second Tower.  I watched in shocked horror, as did Katie, trying to make sense out of what had just happened.  She looked as amazed as I felt, not quite sure what to make of it.

My daughter called from college in tears.  I worried about my younger daughter attending high school.  Was everyone safe?

I switched around to other stations to see if this were real, and a little while later settled on Peter Jennings.  For the next 10 to 12 hours I sat glued to my set, watching in sheer disbelief – wanting to walk away but paralyzed in front of the TV – frozen in horror. And there was Peter Jennings, reporting up to the minute details and trying to give us some kind of reassurance as we slowly realized nothing would ever be the same.  I remember seeing the hundreds of rescue workers and ambulances lined up, ready to take people to the hospital. Waiting and waiting in eerie silence, not yet understanding there would be few survivors from those buildings. The magnitude of the loss of life was still unrealized.

I stayed with Mr. Jennings for most of the day, trusting his expertise and insight.  Way after 11 p.m. he was still there, sleeves rolled up, tie off now, looking haggard and drained but still telling us the details we needed to know. He was soothing and reassuring, trying to keep a nation calm in the midst of hysteria. When Mr. Jennings passed away a while later, my heart ached as thoughts of 911 came flooding back, along with the question of whom we could count on to see us through the next catastrophe.

My thoughts and prayers are with those who have lost loved ones in the horrible 911 tragedy.  My heart aches for their loss. Watching the roll call this morning brought tears to my eyes once more. I’ve been thinking about all that has transpired since then, and the word “trust” came to mind.  I realize that in this ever-changing world in which we live, filled with so much uncertainty, the only One we can really trust to see us through is God.

Where were you on 911?

Aug31

GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO VS. BEN STILLER

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I’ve been trying to get rid of a few pesky pounds that will just not leave this body.  I walk, I bike, but I figured I needed some heavy-duty cardio, so I signed up for an aerobics dance class. I walked into my first class confident, but then, again, it was an entire class of low impact, so what’s to be scared of?  Piece of cake I thought afterwards – let’s go onto something a bit more challenging. Famous last words.  The second class was very “Mama Bear” kind of just right comfortable. Felt great – no problem. Let’s just stick with this, I think. But then on a whim I felt like going the other day and went to a random class in the afternoon. Big mistake…

As I explain this scenario, try to picture me as Ben Stiller doing the salsa dancing scene in Along Came Polly and my aerobics teacher as the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Why Ben Stiller? Have you seen Along Came Polly – the scene where uncoordinated Ben tries to impress his new girlfriend by learning salsa dancing?  This is not unlike what I look like in this class.  You have to rent the movie to get the full effect, but this is a snippet. (Press back key after video to continue reading):

http://www.youtube.com/embed/p43QPnYAkXE”

Moving on, Dragon Girl greets me at the door with a bright smile and warm hello.  Her eyes are as jet black as her hair.  Who is this, I think.  This girl with the tattoo-covered body and piercings?  Then she goes up on the stage and somehow I sense that something is going to go awry. Uh oh…well, she seems nice enough. I try to warm up on my own with my ever so cool yoga downward facing dog, and I know people are probably wondering why I’m doing a yoga stretch in aerobics class.  Doesn’t matter. Works for me.

Dragon Girl turns the music up to a full blast.  Wait, I think, this is just a warm up.  Shouldn’t we start with something softer?  “OK,” Dragon Girl shouts, “LET’S DO IT!”  The warm up is fast and a little on the furious side, and the music is kind of dark.  Stretch left, stretch right, again, dip, over, left, right.  This is just the warm up?! Suddenly we’re inching our way into the more difficult routines. The music is thumping and pumping. I’m off flying here, tapping there, sashaying to the left, turning, grapevining to the right, pointing up, down, back, forth. I’m getting dizzy.  My head is whirling.

The next few songs play as the routines are revved up. I have a stitch in my side.  I think how embarrassing it would be to go into cardiac arrest in front of everyone. The pace picks up even more. My hip is popping in and out.  KEEP MOVING! She screams.  I look up and swear I see the eyes of Clint Eastwood in “Heartbreak Ridge” screaming at his troops.  I stop to get a drink. KEEP THOSE FEET MOVING!  I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO PERFORM CPR!  I start shuffling my feet in place while I down a gulp of water and sashay back to my spot. I’m going to need ibuprophen tonight.  I just know it.

I feel like the DRAGON GIRL is watching my every move because she shouts corrections, and her eyes seem to be always on me. I try to get out of her field of vision by moving sideways but bump into the woman next to me who gives me a dirty look, and I am forced back.  I stand directly behind the girl in front of me, but she’s moving so fast, I can’t keep up.  I go in the opposite direction of everyone else with the opposite foot and fall short of causing a three-girl crash and pile up.  People seem to be avoiding me. KICK TO THE LEFT!  KICK TO THE RIGHT! HIGHER!  I wasn’t aware that kick boxing was going to be part of the program.  Damn, there goes my hip again. Oh no, I think I have to pee…kegel one, kegel two…I can hold this, I know I can.

She demonstrates a low impact version (probably for me since I’m convinced I look like a buffoon), which I mimic only to have her say NOT LIKE THAT!  She mimics a whimsical spaghetti-like dance with arms and legs flowing, which resembles Jerry Lewis in the Patsy.  I step it up again to a fast speed, because I feel she is just daring me to do low impact.  Her eyes are burning a whole in the back of my head.

GET YOUR MATS AND WEIGHTS!  Oh, finally a slow down, I think. But no. We do a routine hoisting five lb. weights until I’m sure my limbs will break off.  FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE. NOW LET’S DO IT ON THE OTHER SIDE! My muscles ache.  DOWN ON THE FLOOR.  LEGS UP; LEGS DOWN; ROLL ON YOUR SIDE.  NOW THE OTHER SIDE. This can’t be the cool down.  CROSS YOUR LEGS AND JUMP UP!  This I cannot do. I roll to my side and lift myself up like I used to do after giving birth by C-section when I had no stomach muscles.  I’m hoping nobody’s watching, but I see the dark eyes narrowing.  I get distracted by the tattoo in the middle of her chest.  It looks like a sunburst. What is that on her ankle? This one moment of tattoo distraction causes a total mix up for me. I’m just about ready to surrender, and it’s over.  THANKS, EVERYBODY! Dragon Girl shouts. YOU WERE TOTALLY AWESOME!!!  I smile.

Although I’m shell shocked, I feel stronger. I’m actually feeling proud of myself just for surviving. The next morning I wake up with only a little tightness and a touch of lower back discomfort, which surprises me considering I was expecting a paralytic state.  In my own demented mind, I find myself looking forward to the next class with DRAGON GIRL.  She was awesome, too! Better practice those sashays…

Aug22

HARRY THE HILARIOUS

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Great leaders of England:  Edmund the Magnificent, Richard the Lionheart, William the Conqueror, Harry the Hilarious…Wait, who?!?

I started off the day with a good laugh after watching the news reports of Prince Harry partying in Las Vegas. At first I thought, so what else is new? The words partying and Prince Harry seem to go hand in hand, don’t they?  When the report continued on to show nude pictures of Harry (appropriately blacked-out, of course) in his VIP suite playing strip billiards (allegedly his idea) with his friends, my chuckle turned into a belly laugh. Oh, man, this new generation of English royalty are certainly doing their best to entertain us, aren’t they?!

I couldn’t help but imagine the Queen Mother’s reaction to the news with her tea cup shattering to the floor as she choked on her crumpet. That poor old lady certainly has her hands full with these quirky grandchildren, doesn’t she?!  And imagine dear old dad, Prince Charles, reprimanding him, “Now Harry, my lad, we mustn’t sashay about without our knickers on, shan’t we?  Be a good boy, then.  Carry on.”

I’ve actually been amused by this blue-eyed, flaming red head with the devilish grin almost from the beginning.  My kids were born around the same time as William and Harry, so I was always interested in royal reporting of those two gregarious heirs to the throne.  William always seemed to be more subdued, although I do see a glint of mischief in his eyes, especially when he’s around Harry.  As a kid, Harry was always the rough and tumble one wandering off in his disheveled clothes causing a raucous.  He was always the one you had to keep an eye on.

Now, in his defense, Harry’s only 27 and by today’s standards, 27 is still partying age. I know this from observing my daughters…  Hec, my own brother made front page news while streaking nude across his college campus when he was just a couple of years younger than that. To see him today you would never imagine that someone so reserved and upright would do such a thing, but there are pictures somewhere to prove it.  It makes you wonder what faux pas Prince Charles or even Queen Lizzy committed as youngsters.

We all have our skeletons in our closets, but Harry seems to enjoy dancing about publicly with his. I think for the sake of Grand-Mummy and his royal English heritage, he’s going to have to do a better job of “watching his p’s and q’s.” (A phrase which ironically comes from English pubs and taverns of the seventeenth century wherein bartenders would keep a watch on the alcohol consumption of their patrons by keeping an eye on the pints and quarts.)

Let’s hold out hope for Harry the Hilarious while we may.  He will grow up…some day…and become an upstanding English gentleman. I, myself, hope he always holds onto that ember of fun.  But as far as the new generation of leadership in Great Britain goes, thank God William was born first!

Aug17

HEAR YOU ME

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I’m having one of those days when I’m wondering what it’s all about and whether anything I did in my life was worth it. Then I get an email from my daughter Megan who lives in Florida.  I don’t get to see her much, but she’s flying home tonight. Along with her flight info she writes:

You know I remember my first day of college, you were driving me, and I put in my Jimmy Eat World CD and they play a beautiful song “hear you me,” and you said, “What is this?  This is nice.” And you turned it up, and we both listened to it and started crying because I was going off the college. Well to this day (including right now) I can’t listen to this song without crying and thinking about that day when I ventured out into the world on my own, and you were there with me. Thank you for always being there for me; can’t wait to see you tonight! Here is my flight info… talk to you soon… love you-

Yeah, it was worth it…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95jkCdOeIy0

 HEAR YOU ME

Jimmy Eat World

There’s no one in town I know.
You gave us some place to go.
I never said thank you for that.
I thought I might get one more chance.
What would you think of me now
So lucky, So strong, So proud?
I never said thank you for that,
Now I’ll never have a chance.

May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On sleepless roads,
The sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.

So what would you think of me now
So lucky, So strong, So proud?
I never said thank you for that.
Now I’ll never have a chance.

May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On sleepless roads,
The sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.
May angels lead you in.
May angels lead you in.

And if you were with me tonight.
I’d sing to you just one more time.
A song for a heart so big,
God wouldn’t let it live.

May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On sleepless roads,
The sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.
May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On sleepless roads,
The sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.
May angels lead you in.

Aug10

REMEMBRANCE OF A SIMPLER TIME

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Katie fishing at the lake in the woods.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When my kids were young, we used to spend our summer weekends camping with friends at Lake-in-Wood, a beautiful campground set in a densely wooded area just outside of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Our friends had two girls just the same age as ours, so you can imagine the fun they had together exploring the campground, swimming in the pool, fishing in the pond, browsing around the general store or playing bingo. There was always some kind of fun activity going on, and it was a magical place to experience.

Catch of the day!

Megan and Jill

When night fell, we would light a campfire and gather round to cook hot dogs or make smores and watch the girls do twirling routines with brightly colored sparklers. We’d talk and laugh and even sing sometimes, much to the girls’ chagrin! And the night sky was breathtaking – I’ve never seen a sky more brilliant with stars than in those days at that place. At bedtime we would douse the last ember of the crackling fire and turn in to be lulled to sleep by the sounds of crickets and tree frogs.  Some nights were louder than others depending on the creatures of the night.

Then – Katie, Jill, Megan and Jamie at the Freeze and Frizz

Sometimes we would venture out to the local shops and markets or we would visit educational places like the One Room School House, a working farm to learn more about the Amish culture or travel the Strasburg Railroad.  Horses and buggies traveled up and down the hilly roads, and the farms were meticulously patched into the countryside.  Houses were neatly kept with gorgeous gardens laden with brilliant arrays of flowers, and freshly hung laundry blew in the crisp, clean air. It was such a quaint and lovely place to explore.  The weekend wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the local Freeze and Frizz for the girl’s favorite grilled cheese and cheese fries with a milk shake.  And a few times over the summer we would visit the Shady Maple Smorgasbord to feast on a wide variety of Amish dishes. There were so many special memories of such a precious place and time.

Now – Katie and Jamie at Katie’s Kitchen (aka Freeze and Frizz)

Time has marched on, and the girls are now grown. Life has changed so very much since then. Recently my friend Jane and her daughter Jamie, my daughter Katie and I decided to go back and revisit the old haunts we used to know not so very long ago.  We were sad Jill and Megan couldn’t join us. We didn’t camp this time but stayed in a hotel. It was exciting to venture out and visit the old places we used to know. The Freeze and Frizz is now Katie’s Kitchen! But the Amish boy sculpture with the pigs and barrel are still there, and the grilled cheese, cheese fries and milk shakes are surprising just as good as we remembered! The Shady Maple Smorgasbord has quadrupled its size with 200 feet of smorgasbord and seating for 2,000.  The main drag in Lancaster now sports all the modern establishments like Wal-Mart, Taco Bell and Olive Garden among other chains. It was mind-boggling to see how commercialized certain places have become. But touring the countryside and shops with the familiar sights and sounds, seeing the horses and buggies and smelling the familiar scents like cinnamon rolls and handmade vanilla/caramel candles brought us back to the time we knew well.  It was a feast for body and soul, and we enjoyed getting lost in the quaintness of it all once more. We laughed until we cried remembering the comical things that happened way back when.

Katie and Jamie feeding the ducks at Kings Homestead.

In some ways everything seems to have changed but in another it has all stayed the same. The cultures of the Amish and Mennonites hold dear their past customs and way of life, and for that I am thankful.  It is because of these traditions that most of what we knew in the past is still the same today. We were able to go back and recapture a part of our happier past when our children were young and our families together. And my heart ached in remembrance of a simpler time when the most precious thing in the world was sitting around the warmth of a campfire talking and laughing with our families and friends all together in one loving embrace.

Dedicated to Katie, Megan, Jamie, Jill and Jane

 

 

 

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Aug5

SWEET CREATURES OF THE LAGOON

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I live on a lagoon that is frequented by some very interesting and beautiful wildlife. Swans are one of the more familiar visitors to the docks. They float effortlessly from one waterway to the other, gliding along without rhyme or reason. They don’t seem to be bothered or afraid of the people around here because everyone treats them with respect and kindness. They are, for the most part, quiet curious creatures.  I am often caught off guard while working in the garden with a surprise greeting by one of these lovely creatures stretching its neck to see what I’m doing. Maybe it’s just to say hello, but most likely they are looking for a morsel of food.

The only time they make a lot of noise is when for some reason they take off into flight. It is a deafening, indescribable rush and squawk of maximum velocity. The first time I heard it without seeing what was making it was quite scary.  But for the most part they meander about minding their own business.

If we could take a lesson or two from a swan, I can guarantee life would be more tranquil.

Lessons like:

  • Slowing life down to enjoy the glide
  • Quietly listening and observing
  • Not being apprehensive about others
  • Visiting people often and without an agenda
  • Giving and receiving respect and kindness
  • Stretching our necks
  • Being curious
  • Saying hello
  • Making a lot of noise when needed
  • Going about our own business
  • Accepting gifts thankfully

 

Jul31

Pèach de Résistance

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It’s peach season here in New Jersey, and I can’t seem to get enough of these decadent morsels of fruit. I have seriously been devouring peaches to the disgustingly ridiculous degree of ad nauseam.  But it’s such a fleeting season and shortly thereafter summer also ends. To get your hands on these little gems is like capturing the last chance ranch of summer – although the Jersey tomatoes and white Silver Queen corn linger on. So by ferociously holding onto this nectar of the gods, I am indeed prolonging the essence of summer. There’s nothing like the juice of a sugar-laden peach dripping down my face and onto my hands.  I cherish each sticky drop and lick my fingers thoroughly.

Of course, there are many things you can do with a peach besides peach eating contests.  I’ve just recently had the pleasure of learning how to can them with my friends Kitty and Kathy, but that’s another story for another day. What an experience!  And a lot of work!  But look at the fruits of our labor.  You really want to lick that spoon, don’t you?  Am I right?!?

You can grill them up with a splash of balsamic vinegar and fresh basil as a sweet and sour side dish or bake them sliced on top of chicken breast with a touch of garlic powder, salt, pepper and olive oil.  So many uses – so little time.  This is my all-time FAVORITE peach crumb cake recipe. Get it right, and you’ll be in heaven.  I’m not even kidding – it’s that good (if I do say so myself). Add a blob of whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, and you’re good to go.

 Crust

3 cups flour

1 cup of sugar

1 tsp. baking powder

1 cup shortening

1 egg

Dash salt.

Mix with pastry cutter until crumbly (don’t over mix).  Divide in half and pat ½ the dough into a 9 x 13 greased pan. (I use a round Pampered Chef pan I’ve had for years.)

Filling

4 cups fresh peaches

(Boil for five minutes, run cold water over them and peel immediately. Skin will come off like a charm, then you just pit and slice.)

1 tbsp. lemon juice (fresh squeezed is awesome)

1 cup sugar

3 tsp. cornstarch

(You can also mix in a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg for a little spicy flavor if you want, but I like it plain.)

Spoon peach mixture over dough in pan. Crumble remaining dough on top.

Bake at 375 degrees for 45 – 55 minutes until lightly browned.

Voilà!

I’ve also made this recipe with fresh blueberries, apples and strawberries.  Or you can do a fruit mix like blueberries and peaches.  YUM!  Nothing like it! I can see you drooling!

Whichever way you choose, get out to your local farm markets and buy a bushel of peaches before they’re gone.  Be creative in their many uses and just enjoy the gifts of God’s summer bounty!

Bon appétit!

Jul15

LIFE DOESN’T ALWAYS TURN OUT THE WAY YOU PLANNED

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Life doesn’t always turn out the way you planned.  Mild understatement, right?  How many of you are doing the exact thing you set out to do way back when? I would guess not many. How many of you are exactly where you thought you’d be? I know I’m not. How many of you are actually living the life you dreamed of when you were a kid? I didn’t think so.

The reason for this introspection is because my dear brother has come upon a milestone birthday, and it hasn’t been easy for him. As you get older, birthdays, in general, get harder to celebrate. You run from them kicking and screaming instead of embracing them like, say, when you were 21.  It’s just a fact of life that once you reach a certain plateau, birthdays basically suck.  I know this one has been an especially thought-provoking challenge for him.  My bro’s life has taken some very defined twists and turns, and where he presently is, in some respects, is nowhere near where he aspired to be. And as you get older, it’s hard not to take a look back and question yourself ad nauseam as to how the hec you are where you are instead of where you thought you’d be.

I think the question to be asked is, even though life didn’t turn out the way you planned, are you satisfied with the way you have accepted how it has turned out?  Do you count your blessings?  Do you appreciate what you do have?  Are you thankful for the people in your life who surround you with love just the way you are?  Do you tell them that you love them? Do you take the time to go outside and breathe in the fresh morning air and then thank God that you can walk and breathe?  Do you appreciate and see the beauty in nature – like that gorgeous yellow sunflower that sprouted unsuspectingly from a wild seed below the bird feeder?  Did you notice the vibrant colors in the spectacular rainbow that followed the storm of the century? How good was that cup of coffee you just finished?  Isn’t it nice to have clean, fresh clothes from the washer and dryer?

OK, I know you can hear the corny music swelling in the background as I get carried with the trivial. But I think happiness is being aware of and thankful for all the trivial things that mesh together to make up our lives. And, yes, it’s hard to see the sunflower when the economy is choking you and you don’t know how you’re going to survive if something overwhelming awesome doesn’t happen soon. And why is it that the love of your life is taking so long to get here?! You’ve just got to keep the faith and know that things will eventually turn around.

My brother is a good man.  He is kind and generous to a fault. He has certainly stretched his dexterity to the breaking point by taking my family under his wing. He’s my Rock of Gibraltar.  He has listened and counseled me tirelessly through a truly crap time. He has given me refuge in a time of dire need.  Without him I doubt that I would still be standing.  So, even though he may not want to, I am celebrating his birthday and appreciating him for what he has done for me!

Thanks, Ken, not only for the major stuff I mentioned above, but thanks for dragging me around every Halloween, when ditching me would have speeded up your ability to obtain so many more Milky Way bars.

Thanks for waiting patiently with me every Christmas morning so we could descend those steps to see Santa’s treasures together.

Thanks for the hours of fun in the snow, building forts and plummeting me with snowballs until I froze into an icy mess. In case I am ever called to be a member of the cast of “Survivor,” I’m prepared.

Thanks for not mocking (too much) my “Girl from U.N.C.L.E.,” Yardville branch, spy club.

Thanks for untying Tommy so I could run before he killed me when I failed my knot tying exercise.

Thanks for winning me the orange “Glug” on the boardwalk in Seaside.

Thank you NOT, however, for the impetigo you gave me in second grade. Although I have to admit it was fun being quarantined with you for two weeks playing games and drinking chocolate milk. Plus, we got out of school, so I guess a thank you is actually in order after all.

Thanks for telling that guy in high school I liked him, even though it was probably embarrassing for you and even though he turned out to be a jerk.

Thanks for crying at my wedding rehearsal. (Although, I should have been the one crying, had I known then what I know now.)

Thanks for being the best and most generous uncle ever to your two lucky nieces.

Thanks for being kind to my pets, even when Bella stained your rug…whoops…

I raise my glass to you, dear brother, I tip my hat, hope and pray that the coming year will be blessed with your heart’s desires and all your dreams come true. And when it’s all said and done, I hope you will be the lucky one and that your life will truly turn out exactly the way you planned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jul13

Sand Wars (aka War Between the Siblings)

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A day at the beach turned into a comical production of the struggle between brothers and sisters to co-exist. It started off innocently when a woman with two friends descended onto the beach with umbrellas, chairs, beach bags, towels, blankets and a multitude of other stuff I couldn’t even identify.  Really?!  Is it truly necessary to bring all of that paraphernalia for a few hours in the sun?! Apparently so. One woman had three kids in tow – a girl about 10, a boy about 8 and a younger girl around 6.  The girls were skinny string-beans (as my Mother used to call me when I was young.) The boy was thin as well and wore a brand new ball cap with a huge brim that was big and flat.  It looked odd sitting atop his little head.  The little girls wore bright bikinis that hung on their thin frames, and the older girl wore shocking pink heart-shaped sunglasses and pranced around like a super model.

Just then a smiling, pudgy little girl of about 6 came running up from a stakeout closer to the ocean– maybe a neighbor?  She was very pretty with white-blonde hair and blue eyes, although she had the few extra pounds of baby fat. She was with her mom and older brother (about 10 – a big kid). Shortly after some back and forth and hellos between the kids and the moms – IT began.  Sand Wars.

The older boy had formed this odd little fort by digging deep into the sand, surrounding the hole with boogie boards and then covering them with towels to form a roof.  The younger other brother joined in.  The girls sashayed over to the fort to check it out and were told in no uncertain terms to go away.  They stood with hands on hips refusing to budge. That’s when the younger boy with the odd ball cap took a handful of sand and hurled it at his sisters.  No matter – all the girls in turn picked up handfuls of sand and tossed it back.  The younger boy (the older boy had disappeared into the fort for some reason – maybe knowing better than to fight with girls) took another handful of sand and tossed it in their faces causing them to squeal sharply.  The girls dug their hands deep into the sand and were just about to let it rip when mom came running over with her hands on her hips yelling at the boy.  The girls had cleverly, and ever so nonchalantly, let the sand slide out of their hands before mom could see. Little angels… As the younger boy was getting reamed out by mom, the girls slipped away from the scene and began staking out a fort of their own.

Much to the boys’ chagrin, the girls’ fort was an exact replica of the boys’ fort.  The boys stood seething from afar. The younger boy was especially agitated since they were using his boogie board.  He finally ran over and snatched the board, caving in one side of the fort, screamed that their fort was “stinky” and ran, joining his older friend under the blankets in their fort, which must have been a stifling 100 degrees by now. The girls, seeing that their fort had collapsed, decided it was boring and instead decided to lay out on their towels and “get a tan” in the words of the older girl. They ignored the boys completely, sitting on their blanket, talking and munching on Goldfish, pretzels and an assortment of candy provided by the chubby little girl.  That peaked the younger boy’s attention, since he must have become bored laying in the torrid fort with the older boy doing a lot of nothing.  He watched the girls for a while until he mustered up the courage to mosey over to where they were sunning and then stood over them staring at what they were eating. He politely asked for some Goldfish crackers and the younger, chubby girl graciously handed him some.  He said a courteous “thank you.” The girl smiled up at him, and he smiled back.  Since the older boy still had not come out from the fort, and probably because the younger boy found the girls more interesting, he sat down on their blanket with a juice box and joined in their conversation.

I left shortly thereafter, so I’ll never be sure of what happened to the cloistered older brother who seemingly disappeared into the sand, or whether the cozy reunion of brother and sisters lasted. I do know that a major battle in the war between the siblings was diffused by simple indifference and a handful of orange, fish-shaped cheddar crackers.

Jul7

ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE

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I never really cared much for Linda McCartney. That’s a mean thing to say, isn’t it?  Bear with me. I didn’t know her, but I think a lot of teenyboppers felt the same way when she stole the heart of Beatle Paul McCartney. She seemed so aloof, haughty and proud of herself, but in hindsight, who wouldn’t be? She married the cutest Beatle whom everyone was crazy about and took him off the market (as if we ever had a chance…). And she was always with Paul, lurking in the background, even in interviews, and it was like, can you please go away and let Paul talk?  He’s the one we want to hear from, not you! And supposedly she always seemed to be causing trouble with the Beatles.  She and Yoko were eventually blamed with breaking the group up, which happened only a year after she and Paul had wed. She just was never well received by the public.

But the thing is, they didn’t seem to care. Paul loved Linda and Linda loved Paul and that was all they needed.  It was as simple as that.  They were devoted to each other, had a wonderful marriage for 29 years and raised a beautiful family. At the end of her life when she suffered through cancer treatments, he was always by her side – steadfast in his devotion to her.  Her family surrounded her. When she died in 1998 Paul dropped out for a while, mourning her passing. It was a very sad time for him, and for the first time I began to think that maybe Linda and Paul had gotten it right. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.  I mean, look how much he loved her. And as the Beatles had written years before, all you need is love. They didn’t care what people thought. They just held onto each other in the name of love, and the hec with everyone else. Isn’t that what love should be about when you boil everything else down?  You can be rich and be miserable. You can be poor and be miserable.  You can be famous and be miserable.  Out of work and be miserable. Successful and be miserable. But throw in the equation of love, and happiness rings through all the challenges.

After Linda’s death, Paul could have lived out his life alone, knowing he had experienced the one pure, true love of his life. He could have left it at that. But he gave it another chance with Heather Mills in 2002.  It was a stormy relationship, nothing like his marriage to Linda. The tabloids focused on the nastiness of the divorce and settlement in 2008. Maybe Paul would now give up on love.  But no, he threw caution to the wind yet again by marrying Nancy Shevell in May of 2011.

 

 

So you go, Paul, you hopeless romantic, you!  You never give up on the possibility of love and demonstrate for all of us that neither should we.  Because in your own words – all you need is love, right?  And love is all you need.