Matchmaking and war stories

There was a death in my family recently.  Chirs was an aunt by marriage, but was as close as blood when I was growing up.  Consequently, there was a family gathering at a local restaurant last weekend, and a chance to swap old memories, and hear old stories.

My father's remaining brother, Harry, was seated at my table with his daughter, Cathy and a variety of cousins.  Harry's a quiet man, steady and dependable, and was happy to be with family, even though for a sad occasion.

My cousin Tom is the question asker, probably from his days of being a teacher.  Somehow the conversation turned to the World War II service of the brothers.  These were the old stories, the funny stories, and the sad.

Tom, Senior, had been in the Navy, and volunteered for submarine duty.  At 6 foot one, he was too tall for the pre-nuclear subs of the time and was rejected.  Abe served in the Army under General George S. Patton in North Africa and Europe.  He sent letters home advising his younger brothers to enlist in the navy.  Serving in the Army had him living in foxholes, something that left a mark on him even after the war. 

Younger brothers Charlie and Harry enlisted in the Navy, and were sent to the South Pacific, serving on different vessels.  Charlie witnessed a kamikaze  attack on his ship.  Harry was attached to the Marines and drove amphibious craft loads of troops onto beaches during battles.

There were probably more stories, but not a lot of time at this luncheon.  The one about my father, George, tickled me.  He enlisted in the Army a few days after his birthday.  His brother Abe signed the paperwork for him. It was 1946 and the war was over, but troops were still being sent to Europe.  My dad was among them. 

I've seen pictures of him in uniform, posing with Jack Dempsey at his bar in New York City, leaning against a car in Paris.  He was an MP, and ended up in Germany, where he had his own apartment and his own maid/housekeeper.  After growing up the youngest of ten, he must have thought he was "living the life of Riley" just having his own place.  In fact he was so impressed by his situation, he re-enlisted.

But of course by 1947 the world was changing.  He wasn't sent back to Europe for his second hitch.  No, he was sent to Alaska.  A new war was starting, the Cold War, and airfields were needed by the Bering Sea.

Now the photos show my father in heavy weather clothes, standing with a rifle, laying in the snow with a rifle, just lots and lots of snow and no mademoiselles or frauleins.  For a very young man, this was a very traumatic turn of events.

Harry mentioned my dad sent a series of letters home, asking his parents to write to the Red Cross, saying they had a "hard ship case" and he was needed at home.  But at that point Harry and Helen were living at home with my grandparents, so there was no hardship case.  I'm guessing it was more a case of making your bed and lying in it.

Luckily, George survived his ordeal in the frozen north.  His discharge papers came from the Army Air Corps, and he came back to Saugus.  All of which brings me back to Aunt Chris.

She and my mother Sophie were working at the GE in Lynn.  Chris had been seeing Charlie for awhile, and mentioned to my mother that Charlie's brother George was coming home from the army.  Did she want to double date?  The answer was yes.

That blind date led to a wedding, children, and a home.  I made very sure, as we were gathered Saturday, to offer a toast to Aunt Chris, aunt by marriage, close as blood.  Chris and Charlie started the events and choices that led to my sitting here.

So here's a virtual toast to both Chis and Charlie, together again.

Signs of Spring

I attended another photography workshop this past Saturday, this time in the North End of Boston.  And even though it was the first weekend of spring, the weather felt more like winter.

The North End offered many interesting opportunities, but I thought I would share the small glimpses we were getting of the season.

Details and the bigger picture

Here we are almost at the middle of March, and we had another snowstorm.  They've been happening once a week since the middle of February.  Luckily, the sun getting stronger, so the sidewalks have been clear for my afternoon walks.

I was ready for the storm last Friday.  I had purchased supplies for a spring wreath for my door a few weeks ago, and had been experimenting with a variety of positions for the decorations.  I got my glue gun prepped, and went to work.

The obvious tricky item was the central "N."  It took a little thought to decide how to get it to hang in the middle of the wreath.  And unfortunately, little thought is the operative idea.  After struggling with it to get it to hang straight on the wires I had to dig through my supplies to find, and get those wires the correct length, I sighed in relief.  I hung it on my door, took the above photo, and bragged on Facebook.

Luckily I have a dear friend who pointed out what should have been obvious.  The "N" is upside down.  I had been so caught in the details I missed the overall picture. 

So I had to take it down to get that letter hanging correctly, knocking off a starfish as I did so.  I just got the glue gun out again to get that detail stuck down.  I think of the experience now as a reminder to keep checking the bigger picture and not sweat the small stuff so much.  Much of the small stuff is as silly as a letter hung the wrong way.  Forgive myself, move on, and think of the forsythia that will be coming shortly.

February photo workshop

 

I went into the south end of Boston yesterday and took a workshop on composition and creativity.  Here's the best of the more than 80 shots I took.  We had to look for lines, textures, shapes, diagonals, and that rule of thirds.

Top of the world!

 

Okay, before anyone says, 'OMG, TMI!"  this isn't a sad post.  It's a discovery post.  I've had some big changes in the past few years, as everyone has.  Some I couldn't control and some I could.  What I discovered is that I could learn from these changes, or stay home and watch a lot of Law and Order reruns.  I decided to get out of the house.

My first lesson was how to be "on my own."  That lesson was more than how to grocery shop for one, but also how not to make the flat screen my best friend.  A common question I receive is whether I will ever date again.  Dating is really down on my list of priorities now.  I had to learn how to make new friends again, how to extend invitations, be flexible and available to invitations, know the importance of small talk (how about those Red Sox, the weather, the movies, books, and yes, that tv show).  I had been living with one person and working in one place for so many years the rut I found myself in was the size of the Grand Canyon. And it was lonesome inside that rut on my own.

The first move I decided on was to take an early retirement.  Some people cheered me on, some thought I would become too isolated.  What the latter didn't understand was that if I didn't shake up my life, I would have become the perfect couch potato, and locked in isolation.  There wasn't energy for anything else.  I had the type of job where I was never off the clock, and never meeting new people or doing new things.  While I appreciate the support my staff gave me through my troubles, the setting and routine was a constant reminder of what wasn't anymore.

So after my initial grieving period when I was starting to come up for air, I also wanted to get out of the house.  I have had the luxury of being able to take that early retirement, and try different outlets for new experiences.  That first retirement year I did a lot of volunteering, but I found that wasn't what I was looking for.  I was often alone doing something the organization needed done, when what I was looking for was company.  I'm being choosy now with how and when I offer my free service.

I picked up a small part-time job as an academic librarian.  It's just enough to keep my hand in my profession, and gives me lots of social contact.  I've discovered the pleasures of group outings through Meetup.com and the Appalachian Mountain Club.  I still have my book club, and we often have field trips as well as our meetings.  We go to museums, see movies and last summer went on an Essex River cruise in Ipswich.  I've discovered the priority on my list is to be a social being, and whatever follows from there I'll just let fall into place. 

My rock through all this has been my family, both through blood relations, and marriage relations.  You in-laws get gold stars for hanging with me.  My family relations are true blue.  I have tried to be connected yet not needy, and I hope I have succeeded.

The picture above was taken on the 86th floor of the Empire State Building.  I had taken the train down to Manhatten on my own.  I can do things on my own and have fun, as well as with others.  I feel right now that I'm on top of the world.  And I'm going to enjoy that feeling as long as I can.

Lighting candles

I was in New York City recently, to visit with a neice and break up the tedium of winter.  The weather was slightly milder than home, and Manhatten has many, many indoor venues to distract and entertain.

One tradition I have when I travel is to visit a Catholic church.  It's silly, as I am what I call a roamin' Catholic, one who has lapsed from the religion and doesn't follow the sacraments anymore.  But while you can take the girl out of the church, you really can't take the church fully out of the girl.  I grew up with CCD classes and mass and no meat on Fridays, and some of those ideas have probably helped make me the person I am today.

I don't attend mass when I visit a church, but I light candles for those who have passed.  Lit candles dotted both my trips to France, where even the tiniest village had the sweetest church.  I take a few moments to remember good experiences with those lost loved ones, take measure of the current moment, and use the few minutes for reflection.  When I visit New York, I stay near St. Patrick's, a large and imposing structure.  One good thing that can be said about Catholicism is the beauty of their churches. 

Wandering around towards the back of the altar one time I discovered a chapel devoted to the Madonna.  It is lovely, small and decorated with roses and thistles in the wood carving.  A statue of Mary is the focal point, and of course, there are candles to be lit.  This has become my spot for reflection when I visit New York; a quiet place in a congested, noisy area.

I'm not alone when I visit on a weekday morning.  There appear to be many that prefer the smaller chapel to the big cathedral setting on the other side of the alter.  All ages are there, and one very interesting type of worshipper.  More often than not, I will see a gangbanger in full colors, tatts and chains and heavy boots, kneeling with his head on his hands, praying to the Madonna.  He kisses the floor as he genuflects when he leaves.  I'm left to wonder where he is going, and why he also prefers the Madonna chapel, and praying to a sweet mother saint instead of sitting in the somewhat overwhelming main church.  I am reminded each time that while we all face unique challenges in life, we seek solace in many ways that are the same.  We have our differences, yet we share many of the same needs.

My New Years resolution this year, as it is each lately, is to be less judgemental and more open hearted.  And sometimes the universe offers me the perfect example.

Fish Tales

Many times when I run into someone I haven't seen in awhile, the first question I'm asked is "Do you have any trips planned?"  Traveling extensively has become a 21st century habit.  Earlier in life, Gary and I were getting by as many younger couples do.  We'd save our tax refund to pay for a car trip.

 

We covered New England from Bar Harbor, Maine, to the shores of Lake Champlain in Vermont.  We would stay in a vacation cottage near Arcadia or in the Green or White Mountains. Sometimes we would find a motel instead.  We always packed a camera, and as time went by, fishing gear and bait.  Gary put together a chart of the best fishing holes along the Kancamagaus Highway.  No, I can't share.  Fishing hole locations are secret, of course. 

 

We would find that zen quiet when sitting by a trout stream, line in the water, waiting for that little jerk telling us our bait had been taken.  With the sun peeking through the leaf cover, and the warm dry air of the mountains, we didn't care that it was the middle of summer and humid at home.  Work worries just melted away, and flowed down the Swift River.

 

These photos are from July, 1992.  Here we are, twenty years younger, thinner, and with much more hair.  We may have gone to more exotic places later, but none were any more fun than sitting by a river, catching fish and scenery, and letting the day flow by.

 

This Wednesday would have been Gary's birthday.  People have  been correct.  The hard edges of loss have softened with time.  I can look back and treasure those lazy summer days and be thankful that we had so many of them.  I can also look forward to more summer days, and making more good memories with the people in my life.

 

The one lesson I think I've learned is that the connections with people and the memories we make are what we can keep over time.  And are the things to be most valued.