My Ancient Companions

Lately, I have been drawn to all manner of things interesting and wild. My morning walks along the shores of Crystal Cove and Pelican Hill give me ample time to ponder the mysteries of nature.

I love the wet fog against my skin and hair and the wild wind that sweeps all my cares to sea. The pelicans fly in formation back and forth over my head.

They seem intuitively  to know that I walk peacefully below them. They glide along the cliffs that hug the sea and go from one end to the other back and forth.

They skim across the top of the ocean looking for breakfast and dive down to catch their prize in their pouches.

I have always loved to watch these prehistoric birds. Their lineage dates back 30 to 40 million years. They look ancient in the morning light. One can imagine other prehistoric creatures feeding along the waters edge.

 Once a few years ago on the first day of January, my husband and I rode our tandem on these cliffs. The pelicans took flight with us and stayed with us in formation the whole way. It was an ethereal, magical event that seemed to say they too were welcoming in a New Year. I felt so connected with them that day and everyday.

It doesn’t take much to make me realize that there are treasures in every moment of everyday that are there for the taking.

Memories of Motherhood

Nonna Cevola and Daddy

Nonna Bevacqua and Luigi

Nonna Cevola and me 1941

Mom and Auntie and me  1939

Lisa and me 1965

Lisa and Nonna 2006

Steve, Paul and me 1967

Steve and me 1965

Steve and me 2003

Paul and me 1966

Paul and me 1984

Daddy, me, Gretchen , Mom and Dick 1967

Gretchen and Piper 2008

Gretchen and Julie 2003

Gina  and Chanel 1993

Gina and Chanel 1999

Gina and I 2005

Gina and Chanel 1993

Paul, Kota, Roshan , Paul 2001

Sol, Roshan, Rem and Sax 2010

Gretchen , Gina, Lisa amd Julie 1983

Priya and Nina 2006

Memories of Easters Past

Nina and Julie 1943

Tina and Julie 1949

Nonno, Mom, Nonna, Julie and Tina 1949

Tina



Michelle, Gina, Ria, Gretchen, Angela, Molly

Julie, Nonna, Steve and Lisa 1965

Lisa, Nonna holding Gina, Julie holding Steve 1966

Silk Dyed Eggs 2011

The Precious Gift of Sisterhood

Many  years ago , my sister gave me a poem written by  Laurel Atherton. It is titled,

“The  Story of Two Very Different Sisters”.  It has been hanging in my closet since she gave it to me and I read it every day. 

 My sister is eight years younger than I. I remember the day she was born, vividly. I tend to be a very visual person so when I think about that day, I can see myself, our home, our neighborhood, my school and even my piano teacher’s studio. 

I was taking a piano lesson when my Mother went into labor. My grandparents picked me up and took me home with them and announced that I had a new baby sister. I was overjoyed. I had been waiting for this moment at what seemed to me to be forever. It was the end of May, so I was still in school. On the day  that my new little charge came home, I was allowed to leave school early to greet her .

My parents were very inclusive and allowed me to hold her. I also helped my Mother bathe her and feed and rock her to sleep. I was in heaven. She was my dream come true. The companion I had been anticipating  for so long. I became a mother hen, worrying about her every squeak and squeal. Summer was just a few weeks away and I had 3 months to get to know her and take care of her.

As I read the words of the poem, at first they didn’t fit. If course, we were the same. We had the same history. But as I thought about it, they rang true.

“One is here, one lives there. One is a little taller than the other.

 Two different colors of hair, two different outlooks on life, two very different views from their windows.

Both have different tomorrows ahead. Each is unique  in so many ways. Each has separate destinations and distinctly different paths to get there , but…..

For all the things that might be different and unique about them….these two sisters will always share so much. They will always be the best of family and friends, entwined together through all the days of their lives. Their love will always be special, gentle and joyful when it can be, strong and giving when it needs to be, reminding them, no matter how different their stories turn out….

They share the incredibly precious gift of being “sisters” . And when you think of some of the best things this world has to offer, a blessing like that us really…what it’s all about. “

The Comfort of Traditions

 I have thought quite a lot about comfort this week. It  has been a week filled with pain and anxiety for so many people around  the world. The mass destruction of a country in front of our eyes makes one feel so vulnerable. It has caused me to pay close attention to the things around me that give me comfort.

This week I watched as  my brother-in-law's family struggled gracefully with the loss of their Mother, Grandmother and Great-Grandmother, the  Matriarch of their family. A passage of one generation to the next. Our generation has now donned the cloak of the elders. What a strange feeling. I've never thought of myself that way and actually I am not there yet. My Mother and Aunts and Uncles are still living late into their 80's and 90's so I have a little cushion of time to be the next generation to carry the mantle of wisdom and experience. But my brother-in-law is now one of the elders in his family. He will wear that cloak, as he does everything in his life, with dignity, responisbility and  pride. It will be safe in his hands.

 The dictionary defines "comfort" as a state of ease and satisfaction of bodily wants and needs , with freedom from pain and anxiety. I was struck by the comfort that traditions give to us while participating in the Greek funeral rituals. The soft chanting of four  priests, three of whom  I have known for many years, filled the air with a sense of calm.  We were all  young parents together just a few yesterdays ago. Baptisms, weddings, funerals,graduations,  anniversaries....all of life's passages.... have been shepherded by these fine men. What an honor to grow old along side them. How comforting to know that they share in the same human experience as we  and can relate on a very real basis to our cares,sorrows, vulnerabilities as well as the joy, hope and peace that we equally experience. Their voices comfort me now and I can only imagine how much comfort it has given my brother-in-law and his sister at this very difficult time in their lives.

As I sat through the funeral , being comforted by the rituals , my mind kept returning to the plight of the Japanese people . How do they receive comfort during this difficult time?  Will they receive comfort from the old traditions that have sustained them for countless generations? Times like this prove that we are all one in the human experience and that our traditions, no matter what they are, have been created from a need for freedom from pain and anxiety. We find comfort in our traditions.

Rain

I heard the tinkle of the raindrops gently falling last night. At first, I thought it was the fire crackling in the fireplace. Glancing out the window, I could see the wet street reflect the night lights. Instantly, a smile came to my face.

I don't know what it is about the rain that calms me. It's always been that way. The sound envelops me in its  warm embrace.

I remember as a child draping myself across the sofa in front of our bay window and watching the rain pound the street and sidewalk for hours at a time. . There was usually a fire blazing in the fireplace on those days. I felt safe, warm and loved.

As a young mother, rainy days blessed me with children playing at my feet. They seemed to get along with each other so well on those days. We would sit in front of the fire and drink hot cocoa and munch on fresh chocolate chip  cookies.  Rainy days and chocolate chips cookies go together. Baking is one of the things I do on rainy days.

When my children grew old enough to go to school, rainy days could start out as a nightmare of parents and cars trying to drop off their precious bundles at the door all at the same time. The traffic increased exponentially on those days. Each parent  wanting to make sure their child got to school safe and dry.

That isn't always possible in California. Rain here is usually not light, it pours.  We may not get a lot of the wet stuff each year but some years are unbelievable. Especially when we get an El Nino effect. Then you might as well just drive around in a boat.  It probably sounds silly to those who live in really difficult weather, but it's what we know here in sunny Southern California.

I was always so glad to get wet kids, books, lunch pails,backpacks,  friends, etc, packed into the old station wagon and home to the cookies, cocoa and fire.

Tonight's rain brings the same visceral experience. I fall asleep peacefully dreaming of years past when I was young .....when the world held endless possibilities....when the rain washed the cares of the world away for a few hours.When my children were safe by my side.