Angels Needed

This week as I gazed upon my Christmas tree, I cried a river of tears for the victims, their families and their friends who are faced which such a tragic loss at this time.  My tree has an angel on the top, she's a beautiful angel with a porcelain head, pretty wings and dress made of netting.  She's holding two candles and a light from within makes her glow.  I grew up with a star on our Christmas tree. As I recall it was a fairly cheesy looking thing too with tinsel and colored lights. When I was old enough to get my own Christmas tree, I used a star at first something similar to the one I grew up with.

The angel came about by perhaps divine intervention. I had stumbled upon a late night Christmas movie, The Bishop's Wife starring David Niven, Cary Grant and Loretta Young. It's a fabulous classic Christmas movie and as late as it was that night sucked me in immediately. Cary Grant plays an angel in the movie sent down to help David Niven who plays the Bishop. 

The movie originally came out in 1947 shortly after WWII. It was a time when many were trying to rebuild their post-war lives and their was still a great need for stories of nostalgia, hope and faith.  Our world is vastly different than it was in 1947, but the need for stories of hope and faith are just as great today if not more.  Today's world is a very frightening place where we are no longer safe at college, a movie theater, a mall or even a elementary school.   A tragedy of the magnitude of Sandy Hook brings people together. It touches so many people beyond the victims and their families because most everyone has been a first grader at some point, or are a parent who has sent their children off to school, or may have a teacher in their family and because of this all wonder my god what if that had been me, or my child, or my sister or mother?

The pain and grief I have felt this week is eerily similar to the way I felt after 9/11. I was born and raised in New York City which caused me to feel the attack on my birthplace as very personal. A friend's husband lost his life that day and many of my friends who worked in the financial district had been devastated by their experiences of what they witnessed and tales of escaping the city. I knew our world would never be the same after that. Misuse of religion, power, box cutters and airplanes caused that tragic day.  In Newtown, Connecticut a young man who was mentally ill killed his mother because he was afraid she was going to have him committed.  He decided to misuse three guns and because of it there are now 26 new angels who no longer walk this earth.

Angel

Shortly after reading this news it reminded me of the Boomtown Rats song, "I Don't Like Mondays". In 1979, Brenda Spenser shot 9 people, 2 adults and 7 children from her house which was across the street from her home.

The silicon chip inside her head gets switched to overload
And nobody’s gonna go to school today
She’s gonna make them stay at home....

The more things change the more they stay the same it seems.

I don't consider myself to be a very religious person. I was not raised in a religious household. I do not go to church regularly.  I used to be a "submarine church goer", only surfacing at Christmas and Easter - but eventually stopped doing that since it felt hypocritical.  However, I silently speak with the Lord and Jesus Christ regularly - at times before bed, sometime in the car or while traveling on a plane.  I do have hopes, dreams and wishes for myself, my children, my loved-ones. I try very hard to have faith in myself that I continue to raise my two children safely in this very frightening and dangerous world. I hope and pray that somehow they will be able to raise their own children one day in a world which hopefully will have learned some lessons from the past and changed it course not to repeat the fateful mistakes.

Life is filled with challenging moments. The holidays are a time when people are supposed to be happy; making it a thousand times harder for those who are not.  The last eight years I have been divorced and forced to share time with my kids on holidays or not see them at all. The pain the first Christmas day that I had to say goodbye to them in the morning and watch them drive off with their father was agonizing for me. I felt like a part of me had been ripped away and I just wanted to cry all day and stay under the covers of my bed. Instead I was supposed to go to my parent's house to share Christmas dinner with my parents, my siblings and their kids.  It was awful. I think one holiday I actually did stay home and wallow in my self-pity. The rest, somehow I found the strength to join the festivities despite my broken heart.  As the years have marched on holidays remain challenging, although each year a little less so. I have been blessed these last two years for I have been able to share them with my new love, my boyfriend, Mark.

Life goes on and time helps to heal most of the wounds which have been inflicted on us. The scars left on us by life should be worn on us with pride for they help make up who we are and how we came to be there. Some people's scars are bigger than others and some may have wounds that never fully heal; for how can someone every fully heal from the lose of their own child?

It's three days before Christmas and I will close my thoughts with a speech the Bishop gives to his congregation Christmas morning reminding us to remember what Christmas is all about.

Tonight I want to tell you the story of an empty stocking.

Once upon a midnight clear, there was a child's cry, a blazing star hung over a stable, and wise men came with birthday gifts. We haven't forgotten that night down the centuries. We celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees, with the sound of bells, and with gifts.

But especially with gifts. You give me a book, I give you a tie. Aunt Martha has always wanted an orange squeezer and Uncle Henry can do with a new pipe. For we forget nobody, adult or child. All the stockings are filled, all that is, except one. And we have even forgotten to hang it up. The stocking for the child born in a manger. Its his birthday we're celebrating. Don't let us ever forget that.

Let us ask ourselves what He would wish for most. And then, let each put in his share, loving kindness, warm hearts, and a stretched out hand of tolerance. All the shinning gifts that make peace on earth.

"A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference." Winnie the Pooh
 Peace - Xine S.

The Fine Art of Communication

I've been reading a bunch of stuff lately about various people's life stories.  Yesterday I finished reading a novel by yet another of my incredibly gifted old classmates, Kim Green entitled, hallucination. Its touching story about a woman's life journey flows effortlessly off the pages, or in my case my Kindle screen.

In some ways, I could relate to main character, Morgan, she too attended an upper east side private girls school.  Originally I thought that would be all I would share with this character when I was first introduced to her. But as got to know her more through this beautiful story I discovered we share a love of dancing, music, travel, children and writing.  I don't share her struggles however I, too have gone through my own failed marriage and deal with my own dysfunctional family.

I understand what's it like to begin a life with someone - a life with so much hope for the future, just to watch it disintegrate despite your best efforts.  One person can not save a marriage. A marriage is an intimate relationship which when one partner ceases to be involved in the caring, communicating and nurturing  - it falls apart.  This need for communicating is not reserved simply for preserving relationships of husbands and wives.

I have a brother who lives in New York City who I only see on the occasional holiday now.  We used to very close as kids but our busy life paths took us very far apart and unfortunately have kept us that way - at least for now.  We hardly talk on any sort of regular basis. Matter of fact, its been so long that to pick up the phone would be weird. Plus who ever knows when its a good time to talk. So a few months ago I decided to start sending the occasional text to see if I could break the ice and get the conversation flowing again. It's kind of working I guess - there has been some exchange - a step in the right direction considering we didn't have even that before. So I'll take it as a positive.

The need for communicating between family members is as important in maintaining those relationships as it is with your friends.  I have a friend who if I want to hear from her I have to initiate the call. This has gone on for years and years because I let it. But she has shunned the electronic world and my best efforts to get together, so we don't talk so much anymore unfortunately.  I don't enjoy talking on the phone too much. I find it difficult to single-handedly multitask during a busy day.  If the conversation is long my elbow gets stiff and aches the rest of the day. I still ache from my 45 minutes phone conversation I had with my sister six hours ago! If its not face-to face, my main form of communicating with people is via text or chat behind one of our word or dice games we play on our phones.

Some people were hesitant to get on board with email and now they hate texting or don't know how to do it,  or they don't do social networking.  To each their own but I couldn't do it. My son is in college and he calls me weekly. His phone conversation skills are improving.  We text each other intermittently and we also follow each other on Facebook and Instagram.  I am part of his conversation with the "social world".

I find having an ongoing dialogue important particularly with my children. This can get difficult as grow up, go to college and eventually leave home and start their own family. If this is their way of communicating, I must join in. Recently as we were preparing for Hurricane Sandy,  I started a family group text which included my parents, siblings and a sister-in-law to make it easier to stay in touch in case anyone lost phones and power. Everyone in the family who lives Connecticut lost power whereas the New York contingency didn't.  My parents liked the intermittent exchanges of stray comments and photos they asked us to keep the conversation going after the power outages were over. They said they left more a part of our daily lives and less isolated. As a parent of a child who lives away at college I have a better understanding of this now.
 
In Kim's book, Morgan's father repeatedly pleads for his daughter's attention demanding more frequent phone calls as her life path takes her across the country away from him and the home she grew up in.  That's our role in life as parents, to raise our children so they an stand on their own two feet and start their own families. It's just as parents we'd like to hear from our all too busy children from time to time. So if that's a quick text, then so be it. The conversation still continues at least, even if in short snippets.



"A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference." Winnie the Pooh

Peace - Xine S.

Every Morning Is Like Giving Birth All Over Again

Fewer things in life are more than difficult than giving birth.  Anyone who has done this at least once understands this.  However, the difficulties don't stop there and they range in levels of degree.  Recently one of the more difficult moments have been in getting my 18 year old son up for work in the morning.  The process takes at least an hour beginning with me entering his room and announcing the time like a modern day version cuckoo clock with a Siri interface.  Silence usually follows my first announcement which now prompts me to start clapping my hands - again images of a cuckoo jutting out from the clock as an Austrian couple whirls around another part of the clock slamming cymbols together come to my head.  I am now being growled at "I'M UP!"  So I retreat back to my desk where I have been working already for about an hour or two.

10 Minutes later - I am forced to go back in as he has managed to hit the "snooze" on this modern day cuckoo.  This cycle repeats itself a few more times before Mother Nature forces him out of bed to take a morning leak.

Once up he continues to dawdle about either in the shower, more time in the bathroom, his room. I always attributed the fact that he was born in the midwest to his Kansas City Joe pace in doing things, since a New Yorker like me has by nature a much quicker pace.  When I went into labor with Nick it took two days for him to finally come out.  Initially my blood pressure had risen and the doctor was afraid of toxemia - thankfully I hadn't yet seen the E.R. episode of the woman who was pre-eclampsic like I was, and who did do into toxemia. The doctor induced labor upon learning how high my blood pressure had soared and my body had swelled and threw me into the hospital immediately.

The first day was miserably long. I was on pitocin all day and had to get up every so often to walk the hallways as my labor slowly but surely progress.  I was taking forever to fully dilate.  The nurses kept remarking "this baby is done - just too comfortable to wake up and come outside!" Sounds familiar.  The second day, the doctor decided to break my water. I suppose it could be equated to ripping the sheets off the bed; I usually get some sort of response from that, as did the doctors that morning.  Once my water was broken it only took a few more hours of true active labor and a few pushes to get him out.  It's similar to the last moments around the house before he is out the door. There is usually some commotion as he looks for his shoes, keys, wallet etc...panic sets in sometimes as he races around trying to locate whatever is missing this time.  Then the final push -- out the door he goes slamming the door behind him -- followed by a moment of silence. I remember waiting to hear that magical sound, the first time I heard him cry.

Now, after that moment of silence I wait to hear a different sound; the sound of his car engine pulling out of the driveway.


"A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference." Winnie the Pooh

Peace - Xine S.

Our Garden

This spring I have done something I have wanted to do for a very long time - start my own vegetable garden. I have fond childhood memories of working with my mother in our garden in Sherman, Connecticut.  During my adult life, I have had my fair share of small container gardens for herbs primarily.  My boyfriend (a stupid term for the man who I live with but I am not married to) has always had a small garden as well where he would plant tomatoes, basil, peppers and corn.  

About a month ago, we started on building the form for the raised bed after we had scoped out the best and easiest place for the garden to go. We did our research on how to build the form and not to use chemically treated wood which could leach contaminants into your garden effecting your produce.

We made multiple trips to the town mulch pile to get what we needed. A mixture of that, cow manure and some top soil filled the bed.  I had tilled up three bucket fulls of rocks from the bed before laying the form and the mulch mixture since I planned on planting carrots I wanted to make sure that the pathway was clear of rocks. An impossible task in Connecticut which is why we opted for the raised bed method, plus we can control the soil mixture more that way.

April 17, 2012

April provided us with a few days of warm weather which had us planting a few starter plants but not everything.  There were a few days which frost warning had us putting plastic containers on top of the crops over night to protect them.  We escaped without any casualties.  We started off in the bed with about 8 corn plants, 3 tomato plants, 3 green bean plants, a couple of peppers. I was concerned right off the bat of one of the corn plants since I had been drinking a beer while planting and I spilled the beer on the soil right where one plant went in.  

Deer aren't as much a problem for us with the four dogs around.  To keep the four dogs from trampling through the garden bed, we put posts in each corner and wrapped a plastic fencing around it.  We stapled the fencing into the posts leaving one side that we could open to get into the garden and use a bungee cord to secure it.

May 5, 2012

At the same time we also used our patio containers to plant cauliflower, red lettuce, Boston lettuce, iceberg lettuce, romaine lettuce and spinach, broccoli and strawberries. Last week, we were able to pick off a leaf from every plant and used it for our Greek Steak Sandwich Wraps. It was delicious and so rewarding to walk in the backyard and get out lettuce from our very own garden!

After this weekend planting the raised bed is now full.

We have quite a bit of rain in the area and now are needing some sun. Over the weekend we added more tomato plants - a few heirloom, super 100s and Lemon Boys. I also planted some snow peas, and the carrots that I had started form seed a few weeks ago.  The "beer corn" plant looks to be doing well and has I think gotten over the drunken phase it may have been in.  Who knows maybe I stumbled upon something :-)  The strawberry plants have buds and flowers and a real strawberry in progress. 

Strawberry plant May 7, 2012

I am excited about the prospects for the garden this summer. Sharing this experience with my family is a big part of starting this garden. I look forward to adding our crops to the dinner table as the months tick on.

"A little consideration, a little thought for others, makes all the difference." Winnie the Pooh 

Peace - Xine S.

Closer to God

Some of the most beautiful places on earth are on the hills and mountains of the world. There is something about being in the mountains which is very special to me. Perhaps it's their breathtaking views or the high altitude but I feel somehow closer to God there.

Years ago I was fortunate enough to spend a lot of time at Okemo. We used to joke on Sundays mornings as we skied that there was no better place to be then God's outdoor chapel on the slopes.  The feeling of being on top of the mountain and on a clear day see for miles in every direction can be one of the most majestic views one can ever take in. Coupled with the rush I feel as I ski down the slopes it transcends the experience like no other sport I enjoy.

I'm not a religious person - I don't subscribe to any formalized religion. For better or worse, I wasn't brought up in a particularly religious home so I wasn't given any particular direction to follow as far as that was concerned. I consider myself somewhat spiritual as I have my own idea of God and Gaia, Mother Earth. I choose to include her for being responsible for maintaining and cultivating what God initiated. When I stand in the mountains and look around at the amazing peaks reaching to the heavens I get the feeling that I'm standing in some of their best work.

Today was the first day of Spring. The earliest that the Vernal Equinox has occurred since 1896.  Today was also the last day of ski season for me.  It was the winter that wasn't being that it is the 4th or 5th warmest and driest in a century. It was also my first ski season in over six years.  I had forgotten how much I truly enjoying being in the mountains. But my time this winter at Stratton has renewed my love for the mountains.

I have many conversations with God and Jesus Christ. As I child I always would simply just talk to God; however a few years ago I started to include JC as well.  I had started to think more about the holy trinity and figured that he should be included.  These silent conversations happen sporadically whether in the shower, on the chairlift or on the deck in the morning having my morning coffee. I can be alone or sitting amongst people.  At those moments I think to thank them for all the blessings they have bestowed upon me.

Although the winter season has finished, the conversations will always continue. The venues simply change to include places like the garden, the park and the ocean. Happy Spring!

Sweet Mutiny

Things are going to be a little less sweet in the mornings... The cries for better nutrition and less sugary breakfast cereals could possibly send Captain Crunch into retirement soon. The good ole' sugary sweetness that has kick started so many kids, myself included, has fallen from no.1 to obscurity. Shamed for having being too sugary and therefore the cause of every obese kid or adult out there.  In the 12 gram of sugar category, you have in the line up famous tasty morning treats such as Kellogg's Frosted Flakes and Froot Loops. General Mills is a little sweeter in this category with their menu of Trix, Cookie Crisps and Lucky Charms. Yeah, they're magically delicious - 13grams of yummy sugar goodness.  One of my absolute favorite Kellogg's Apple Jacks weighs in at 15g of sugar!  Explains why switching to Cheerios at 1g of sugar made them taste like cardboard circles at first. In the 15g group Apple Jacks sits next to Corn Pops and Smacks, all of which are Kellogg's products. Smacks, btw, used to be called Sugar Smacks, but this obviously is no longer politically correct so they simply tossed the word sugar but didn't bother to lower the sugar content.  Smacks sounds stupid to me. I'm sorry, I'm old school - give me my Sugar Smacks and Saturday Morning Cartoons!!

But if you take a very close look at the various ready-to-eat cereals, you'll notice something very disturbing - many so called newer 'healthy' cereals out there and that is they have shit load of sugar in them!  Again, I'm not talking about the old school guys like Quaker Oats Cheerios (1g), Kellogg's Corn Chex (3g), or General Mills' Wheaties (4g). I'm referring to Muesli, dried fruit & nuts which has a whopping 26g of sugar! Wheaties Raisin Bran has 18g! Frosted Cheerios 13g - see it takes at least 12 grams of sugar to make those little round things taste good!