My Little Work Neighborhood

I know it's hard to believe, but I really wasn't in the mood to go to work today. But as I was on approach to my work neighborhood, an odd thing happened. I had the strangest sense of the place just being alive. Bustling with energy, and commerce, and men and women living their lives, and being a community.

I work on the east side of downtown. Far enough away not to be caught in the traffic and concrete jungle, but close enough to feel like the city. It's a cross between a growing restaurant row, a very large medical facility, and a homeless community.

I saw the patients of the hospital outside on the sidewalk in their hospital issued gowns, desperately sucking the life out of their cigarettes before they had to go back inside the smoke free facility. One guy actually had his entire bed wheeled out onto the sidewalk, and was hooked up to an I.V. Nevermind the entire campus is smoke free, including the sidewalk...that just makes it all more ironic.

I saw a man walking down the sidewalk angrily talking to himself. Unfortunately he was walking AWAY from the Christian Mission, not towards it. And as always, as I approached the mission, there was the usual buzz of men coming and going. Some looking sad, some lost, some scary, and some perfectly happy. Many of them leaving in pairs, showered up and clean, with a friend they may have just met. Sometimes I wonder if they'll stay together long, or soon part ways.

But I also saw a city bus, full of people headed all over town to start their day. One lady was wearing a Subway uniform, another lady was wearing scrubs.

I passed a truck with it's flashers blinking; the driver busily unloading a rack of uniforms to be delivered.

In the air, I saw a helicopter to my right, and a large UPS plane full of parcels coming in for a landing on my left. Parcels my husband would be sorting and moving to different aircraft in a couple of hours.

I saw the usual long line at the McDonald's drive thru, and the "locals" who sit out front every morning, drinking their coffee.

It was Farmer's Market day on Gray Street. The farmers were already beginning to arrive; setting up their booths, and making sure everything was in place for the day.

I saw a young woman with three small children; two of which were in two separate strollers. She looked very tired, and I wondered where she was going. More importantly, I wondered how she got where she was in the first place.

The pizza chefs were already arriving at the Italian restaurant next door. Time to start making the dough for the day. It has to rise for a few hours, you know.

I love my little work neighborhood. It's plenty diverse. It's good, and sometimes it's bad. But one thing is for sure; today it was alive.

Aunt Mary Jane

When I was a very little girl, I remember having a great aunt named Mary Jane. I'm not entirely sure how she was related to me--possibly she was married to a brother of one of my grandparents. This was on my father's side of the family. Aunt Mary Jane lived down in the hollers of Eastern Kentucky, where we would go to visit my grandmother. In fact, she lived the last couple of years of her life with my grandma. I'm not quite sure how old she was, but to 7 year old Mary, this lady seemed to be at least a hundred. She was a sweet old woman, with deep lines on her face. She may have been part Indian; her skin was very dark. She was toothless and wore her hair back in a tight grey bun. My strongest memory of Aunt Mary Jane was that she used snuff, and would ask me to go get her "can" from my grandma's front porch. This was an old coffee can she would use to spit in, and I hated going to fetch it worse than anything. I tried desperately not to look inside and see the dark brown goo in there, so I would grab it and get it to her as quickly as I could.

One summer night, I had run around catching lightning bugs in a mayonnaise jar until I was tired, so I sat down in one of the old creaky rocking chairs on my grandma's big wooden porch and listened to the crickets and stared at the millions of stars in the sky (I believe you could see every one of them from down there). My mother and Aunt Mary Jane started talking, and somehow the subject of growing old and dying came up. I still remember something my Aunt Mary Jane said to my mom that night. She said "No living thing wants to die. Not even a little bird."

My mother often quoted Aunt Mary Jane on that line, and I remember her repeating it to people many times in my life.

It's human nature to want to live. That's why I can't understand why someone who is very close to me and much, much younger than Aunt Mary Jane, would be willing to throw in the towel and say they didn't have much intention of living a whole lot longer. Is it an excuse to give in to addictions and temptations? "I may as well abuse my body as I please, because I'm not going to live much longer anyway?" Well to me it's a cop out, and for the last few days, I've been pissed off about it. And I'm damn well sure if my mother and Aunt Mary Jane were here, they'd be bloody pissed off about it too.

Get To Know Your Food

So a few days ago we read about the hydrogenation process. If you stuck with me long enough to read the whole article, you know how disgusting and unsafe hydrogenated oils are. You know that hydrogenated oils equal deadly trans fats. That is an absolute fact. Even if the label says "Zero Trans Fat", rest assured it's still there. We'll discuss how that works later.

But margarine is not the only food containing hydrogenated oil. In fact, you can find it hidden in many of the foods we consume. Many of which, seem "healthy" or are part of a low fat or low calorie diet.

So what are Americans to do? We are busy. We like Cheap and Convenient. The answer is this: stay educated and informed, and make substitutions.

After some health scares a couple of years ago, my friends Sara and Marty-Marr totally revamped the way they eat. They exercise regularly and vigorously, and they read the label on everything now. They buy almost nothing containing hydrogenated or partially hydrogenated oils. Did they eliminate these foods from their diet? No. They have merely substituted real food for non-foods. Here's a perfect example, and a great place to start:

Eliminate Non Dairy Whipped Topping

Non Dairly Whipped Topping is an ingredient in many Weight Watcher recipes. It's very low calorie and it tastes great. Nothing goes better on top of a cool summer dessert, than a big dollop of the stuff. Personally, I love it. I can just have a big spoonful of it and be happy! But read the label...Non Dairy Whipped Topping contains hydrogenated vegetable oil. Let's face it....Non Dairy Whipped Topping couldn't have existed a few decades ago, because it is not real food.

A great substitution: Real whipped cream. If you don't want to use the canned version, do like Sara (and all the pastry chefs in the world) and whip up a fresh batch to top your desserts. A little fresh whipping cream (or light whipping cream) poured in to the mixer, and in a a couple of minutes you have real food. You can also add a dash of vanilla and sugar, but it is not required. It's not as Cheap, and it's not as Convenient....but it is real food. And it's delicious!!

Never Really Mine

Well, it's over. Last night my sister and I divided up my Mom's jewelry. I got the Sicilian Hex ring, as I had wanted. I also got a little ring for my daughter to have when she gets older. My sister's daughter took the diamond bracelet my mom always wore. It looked so pretty on my niece that I almost cried. She looks more like my mom than my sister or me. It just looked "right" on her wrist. The division went off with little "to-do". I think I had prepared myself for it and just kinda went numb.

I looked at the ring for a long time tonight, even wearing it on my finger for awhile. But it didn't feel like it belonged to me. Maybe if my mother had actually given it to me at some point in time, I'd feel like it did. But dividing it up last night at my kitchen table did not make it feel like mine. It feels like me, wearing my mother's ring. I felt the same way when I watched the little velvet bag with the rest of the jewelry plop into my sister's purse. It felt like she was taking Mom's things. It felt like we all were.

I will always treasure the ring. I will think of the Sicilian Hex story often as I wear it. I will use it to honor my mother's memory, and keep the stories alive. Maybe the ring shouldn't feel like mine. Maybe it should always be hers.

I'm just glad it's over.

Quotes I Like

"I love you more than life itself...but you're all mad."
-Ozzy, speaking to his family

Here Lies Mary

Ever since I was little my dad always told me that when something goes wrong or maybe unexpected in my day, not to feel sorry for myself or walk around saying how rotten my luck is, but instead to think about what lesson I learned from the experience, or what God is trying to tell me. In my own life, I have incorporated with that, the fact that I strongly believe in karma, and that a lot of the bad things that happen to us in life are direct results of wishing bad things on people, cheating, or lying.

Well, I haven't done any of those things lately, so I've concluded that what happened to me today must have been God trying to teach me something.

I'm off work today, and had planned to make the most of my day. I got up relatively early and headed for the grocery store. It was one of those weeks that I needed to make a really big run. While I was there, I saw the loveliest bunch of peach colored roses on the clearance table, and decided this might be a good day to drive over to the cemetery and place them on my mother's grave.

So after I finished at the grocery store, I made the short drive to the cemetery. I won't lie....I don't like to go there. I know my mother isn't there, but it is a place to honor her, and two or three times a year, on a whim, I like to ride over and place something on her stone.

When I pulled up, I felt the anxiety start to build, and I decided I would make this trip very quick. I left the keys hanging in the ignition, and walked up to the gravesite. After a few words to my mom and a few tears, I laid the flowers across her stone and headed back to the car. When I got there, I had a sickening discovery. The doors on my car were locked. Not only were my keys hanging in the ignition, but my purse, my cell phone, and about $230 worth of groceries were inside.

After trying all the doors and the hatch, I finally conceeded that I was indeed locked out of my car. I decided to walk up to the cemetery offices, in hopes they'd let me use a telephone to call AAA. With temperatures on the rise, I hoped they'd get there quickly before milk and lunch meat started to spoil.

As I walked the distance to the office, I felt frustrated. Of all the days! And all the places to be stuck! And my groceries! My kids were home alone. What if there were an emergency and they were trying to call me? But suddenly, frustration started to subside, and I started thinking about my dad, and his philosophy on "bad luck".

Inside, I met the nicest lady. Her name was Judy. She got me a bottle of water, and insisted I sit down in the cool office for a bit. She told me she would have her maintenece crew come take a look at my car. She knew they had a tool for popping locks. The guys showed up and once again, couldn't have been nicer. With sweat pouring off him, the fellow finally gave up and said I should go on and call AAA.

Another trip walking back up to the office, and precious minutes ticking away on my groceries, but I remained calm. AAA said they'd have a truck out for me in less than 30 minutes. Judy offered to let me sit in her office, but still convinced God had some type of lesson for me, I declined the offer and went outside.

At first I just stood there. Then a relief carving of the Last Supper caught my eye. It was under a giant oak tree and there was plenty of shade. I walked over and studied it for awhile, deciding to touch the hand of Jesus before I left.

Then I spotted another large oak, several yards away. Something was calling me to walk to it, so that's what I did. As I walked, I started looking at all the headstones along the way. That's when I realized God's plan for me today.

The first head stone was for a boy named Jason. I noticed he was 20 years old when he died. I wondered what had happened to him. "Beloved Son and Brother". I thought about how sad his family must have felt.

Next, I noticed a vase had fallen over, and all the flowers it contained had spilled out. I walked over and picked it all back up and put it in place. They belonged to someone named Mr. White. I wondered about him too.

As I walked along, I noticed most stones had some type of art carved into them. Lots of crosses, angels, bibles, and pictures of God and Jesus, but lots of other things too. Many had wedding rings intertwined. "Together Forever". Some had dates that people had married. Some had religious symbols that weren't really familiar to me. But there were other things that were more interesting; such as a Masonic symbol, a police badge, a butterfly, a peace symbol, a hummingbird, an antique car, a Hang Loose symbol (from Hawaii), and a cat. Those are only the ones I can remember. I didn't have paper with me to write them all down.

I thought to myself, these are the things that were important in these people's lives. This is a symbol of the footprint they leave behind. I began to wonder about my own legacy. What would be important enough to me to carve on my head stone? What words would be there? What symbols? I just kept thinking I wanted it to be something more than "She sure loved her cat".

As I pondered that question, I saw the AAA truck turn the corner. The driver told me this was some type of safety feature on my car. It locks when you leave the keys in the ignition. I guess it's so someone can't steal your car, but it was an inconvenience to me. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe I need to think about my life, and the legacy I want to leave when I exit this world. And I think that's what I'll do.

Let's Just Get This Over With

Later this week my sister and her daughter will both be in town for a visit. While they are here, one of the things on the list is to divide up my mom's jewelry. It's been over three years now since Mom died, and the jewelry is still right where my dad put it all--in a little velvet bag with a rope on it.

I realize it's just material things, and it means nothing to Mom anymore, but for some reason, the thought of dividing up her things just seems wrong to me. It's going to be very uncomfortable. I almost feel like we're pillaging her possessions. And somehow I feel a sadness for my Dad in all this. Like maybe he's thinking "Let the greedy daughters take what they want and go."

My mom didn't have a lot of expensive jewelry. In fact, the only thing I want is the Sicilian Hex ring ("My Mom" dated August 14, 2009). I'd like for my daughter to have a little something too. Other than that, they can have it all. I just want this to be over with, and I don't want there to be any arguing or hard feelings. It's not worth it. And I don't want to do this around my Dad. I think it would hurt him. And I'm quite sure if even one harsh word is spoken by any of us, he would snap. I hope they will just come to my house and let's get it done.

It would have been nice if Mom had written down her wishes for all her personal things, but she didn't. My sister says she has a document that my mom gave her at some point, but she doesn't know where it is. This only complicates things, because she thinks she knows who's supposed to get what....but she isn't sure.

I'll say it again....I just want this to be over.