Happy 59th QBunny

Love and miss you.  Did the plenary indulgence for you this week.  I pray you don't "need it!"  But are already looking down on me from heaven.

Rest in Peace

Please keep my late husband, Quentin Gelder, in your prayers today.  Today is the 3rd anniversary of his death. I hope he has his reward in heaven by now.  He suffered so much in silence, and did not tell me when he lost his sight to spare me pain.  I did not know that until after Q.'s death when his dad told me.  I can't imagine anyone facing death from brain cancer with more courage than he had.  My heart aches thinking of the morning of his death, when at 5a.m.  he called out "sweetie" in an anguished voice.

I took one look at him and *knew* it was going to be the day.  I made him as comfortable as possible, and called his parents as soon as it was feasible.  With the help of a nun in the parish, who moved heaven and earth to get a neighboring priest (our own Parish priest was on holiday), the priest literally came about 10 minutes before he died to give him last rites.  Q. had been upright for a number of hours "holding on" as I kept hold of his hand assuring him his parents would be coming and we were trying to round up a priest.  Immediately after the priest left, his parents arrived, just in time for his death.  I have always preferred to say "death" rather than "passed away" or other euphemisms.     I don't think it does any of us much good to gloss over the thought that none of us will be around forever, and one day, we never know the day, we will also come to our end here on earth.

With both the priest and his parents making it literally just in time, I hope all of you will be as lucky to have loved ones and benefit of clergy when your time comes.    It was almost "movie like" in that sense.  Deus ex machina...just in time.  Today a newly ordained priest, Fr. Martin Wheaton was kind enough to offer the mass for Q.      Fr. just last week wrote how his emergency bleeper for a hospital call went off, and how he made it just in time.  How privileged priests are to be with one at one's most intimate moments.  So this sort of scenario DOES happen outside the movies.

Later on I hope to go over to attend mass myself at Brompton Oratory, which Q loved so much.   And I expect he was also remembered at Blackfriars in Oxford, where he was a 3rd order Domincan.

There has not been a day go by where I haven't missed his touch, his smile, his patience, or most of all his love for me.  There are days I don't want to wake up.   Sleepless nights, a hole in my heart that never goes away.  But I just need to hold on to hope and trust in the Lord.  That someday, with the grace of God, we may be together again.

Alas, poor Yorick

The other day I was going through things my late husband had.  This picture was taken shortly after his last chemotherapy treatment.  He'd undergone the therapy for a number of weeks on and it was very uncomfortable for him.    In the beginning, the mask, which is custom made for each person to keep their head in place, was too tight and very trying for him, they had to remake and alter a 2nd time, and then another adjustment.   Oftentimes after he'd finished the treatment, marks from the tough plastic mask would remain on his face for a long time, sometimes even an hour later you could see where the mask had been.

He never complained about the cancer, but you could see he was a happy man when that phase of his treatment had ended.  I think he did most of his purgatory on earth.    At any rate, I hope he is happy now, and has met my mom and dad and other relatives.   I'm very sorry that none of my relatives ever got to meet him.  It would have been my mother's 83rd birthday today.  I don't know what dad would have made of Q, but I think my mom would have adored him.  If there is cake in heaven I hope they had some, and thought of me.  It will be the 18th anniversary of her death 4 days from now.  Hard to believe it's been so long  Like Q, my mom had died of cancer.  Going through her death, helped prepare me for his.

There have been a few times where I've almost thrown Q's mask away.  And it puzzled me why I hadn't.  The other day it occurred to me why I hadn't.    Close up, one can see the shape of the face.  It's almost a modern day death mask - no other human had or will ever have those exact features or facial measurements. It's unique. And and a reminder that one day we all come to death's door.  Some sooner than expected.  And you never know what your own fate will be.  No person is ever replaceable.

The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil:
for Thou art with me;
Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies
Thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Happy 90th, John. And many more.

My father-in-law, John, celebrated his 90th birthday today.  He is quite spry and very lively.  There was a nice party for him this afternoon in the public lounge in the apartment complex where he and my mother-in-law, Lorna, lives.   John is quite a pistol and my husband, Q, inherited a lot of his charm and sense of fun, and sartorial sense.

Q's parents will never be that elderly couple who sit around in sweats - they are always so nicely turned out.  I don't think I've ever seen John without a tie on, for instance.  This afternoon just as we were going down the hallway from their apartment to the reception room, John gave his wife and me a little bit of a startle by taking a few running steps pushing her wheel chair and then letting go on purpose to give his wife a bit of a thrill.  "There you are my dear, now you're free wheeling!"  WHEEEEE!!!!

They are a delightful couple and had about 30 folks besides us at his party.  They had a nice spread of sandwiches and other goodies for their guests along with some cakes. John and Lorna also recently had their 60th wedding anniversary towards the end of December.  Their friends had taken up a generous collection for them to go out and have a really good time.  When asked by a woman if they have any plans for a spree John joked that it would probably run to "fish and chips" and the lady said "well, feel free to have them in Paris!"  I think they would be tempted, as they both were quite adventurous travelers.

When my husband was a very little boy, there was a big department store in Kent who put out a  magazine which featured the cartoon antics of two bears, Claude and Cecil.  Q and his dad often called each other by these pet names.   Whenever Q called his parents he always started off with "Hello, Claude" when his dad answered the phone, and of course, John answered "Hello, Cecil."    I quite miss hearing this exchange between my husband and his dad.  Q had a pair of cuff links which were golden bears wearing top hats, so I presented these to John as a gift today.

John shares a birthday with Lincoln, and it occurs to me that when John was born there were still people alive who would have seen Lincoln in the flesh when they were children!  John served with the Royal Marines during WWII and then had a long career in the Civil Service as an accountant.  He was quite a sport in his day, playing field hockey for the Marines when he was still in the service, and he is really enjoying the English wins in the rugby "6 Nations" tournament which is now on going.  I hope for his sake that England wins.  Happy Birthday, John!

Happy Birthday, Blessed Mother

I always try to go to mass on Sept. 8th to honor the Blessed Mother. I don't always get to go, but this year I did. I especially liked all the red roses in the Sanctuary.

Today also has a touch of poignancy for me too. It marks the 9th anniversary of my dad's death.

RIP, I'm glad he died on a day where we celebrate our heavenly mother's birthday. I feel reassured that she was close to him and had him under her special protection when he died.

I think my dad would have liked the young priest who said the mass today a lot. Fr. Gordon is particularly a little gung ho when he invokes the prayer to St. Michael, the Archangel. Fr. Gordon was ex-military, and so was my dad.

One nice thing to mention about my dad today was how much I appreciated how generous he was to all my friends, without fail. Dad always said things like "X is welcome to come along." He always took time to chat a bit with them.

The Blessed Mother was especially good to me too, today. Let's just say I had to go down to a government office and the outcome couldn't have been better. She gave me an early birthday present on her birthday.

Melancholy Baby

I always get a little melancholy this time of the year. It would have been my mother's 80th birthday today. Sadly, I didn't make it to Mass as planned today, but will, God willing, attend tomorrow. A few days from now on the 8th will be the 15th Anniversary of her death. I ache for her touch, and would give anything to be able to kiss and hug her as well as listen to her good counsel.

My mother and her brothers and sisters sat for this formal portrait in the mid 1930s. Her maiden name was Shelak - and the photo was taken in Northampton or Lehigh County, Pennsylvania.



Back row: John, Catherine (my mother), and Anna
Front row seated: Mary, Andrew, and Helen


I expect the kids are in their Sunday best. 4 of the six are now deceased. My Aunt Mary who is now well in her 80s is getting frail now, and the other surviving aunt, my aunt Anna, is advancing in Alzheimers. Not pictured is my Uncle Joseph, who was born a bit more than a decade after this picture was taken. He's only 9 years older than I am.

These children of my emigre (Autro-Hungarian empire) grandparents did quite well for themselves. They all were married and had families 6 of the 7 marriages stayed together, which isn't a bad percentage as things go considering the turmoil of the 60s and 70s. Uncle John was a WWII veteran who saw duty in the Marines on Guadal Canal among other places, he later became a long distance truck driver and was based out of Texas - his 3 children and their families are still in Pennsylvania.

My 3 aunts pictured here all worked in the garment industry and each could sew like a dream. Not a gene I inherited. All were ILGWU members. When you could still get clothes made in the USA and not sized for some sort of pygmy with no hips or boobs. Let me put it this way: They not only knew what a "dart" was, they made them - and could do their own patterns too, and often did. Mom gave up working outside the home when she married my dad (also a Korean Era vet who worked his way up the food chain to be a plant manager for a beverage company). My uncle Andrew was a veteran of the Korean War and he later went to Layfayette College on the GI bill and became a chemical engineer. The youngest, Joseph, [4F from a motorcycle accident and my only uncle who wasn't a vet] graduated from Penn State and became a hardward/software support guru for IBM mainframes pretty much in the late 60s when mainframes where huge gully whumpers which took up whole rooms for about the power of a computer you're sitting in front of now.l He's almost retired. Joe and Andy also bopped around the country a bit, both "homing" back to Pennsylvania - my own family moved to California (after stays elsewhere) when I was 14. And my mother's sisters all lived literally within a block or two of each other and their mother. When we were all little kids together, it was great to be able to bounce around between the 4 houses. Now one of my cousins still lives two doors from his mom (Anna) and his sister and her husband still live close to the old family homes (two still occupied in houses in homes my uncles and grandfather helped build.)

Given the tendency of cyberspace to hang around, I dedicate this post to my maternal cousins and their children and their grandchildren and coming grandchildren and future generations-- maybe someday they'll "google" "Pennsylvania" and "Shelak" and see this photo of their predecessors.

I've written quite a bit about my mother before, but to throw in something a little fun I must say that while dad and I enjoyed fishing (especially in my teen years) though dad and I usually came up with something or other and didn't get totally zipped - mom always had a "string." She just had more patience than the two of us put together! God knows she was the only one who regularly came home with halibut while the two of us were aced out.



Oh, just to taste on of her fish fry ups once more. Happy 80th birthday, mommy.

Happy Birthday, Mom

If my mother was still living, today would have been her 79th birthday. She died in '95, and truth be told I've never "gotten over it." I don't know if I ever could. I don't know that we're meant to. Last year I wrote a tribute to her virtues, but in reading over it now, I think I may have forgotten to give a picture of what a figure of pure FUN and delight my mother could be.

She grew up in a poor family in the 30s and 40s. Pictures of her from that time period are hard to come by, especially compared to the sheer number of pictures people take today. She's in her mid-teen here, rolled up jeans, posing with a baseball bat. She and her sisters all played softball growing up, in school and on teams. She picked up the love of the game from her immigrant father. For close to 30 years we had full season Padres baseball tickets. Dad and I were both huge fans of the game too -- but mom was the one who was the "go to" who remembered who was traded for whom, and all the statistical details. When each of my parents died, I ensured a ball that was caught at one of the games went in each casket. (Yes, we sat behind home plate, and yes I have a stash of them from over the years. Not a huge number, but more than most people come up with in a lifetime.)

Mom also LOVED to travel and was extremely down to earth and never put on airs. And she didn't have much truck with people who did. She loved to garden and had a green thumb I could only dream of having. [I think I got a recessive "kiss of death thumb" from somewhere, because dad also had a green thumb.] My mom was also very good at "fixing things" in the carpentry department. Also a talent she got from her dad. Her ONE, SOLE advice to me as in matters of love and marriage was "don't EVER fall in love with a salesman, because they can't fix squat." [Dad was a saleman, who couldn't fix squat, as you may have guessed.] But mom had "the golden hands." When I was growing up we'd wait for him to go on a business trip before we'd change out the screen doors. Dad would attempt to "help" and the job would take twice as long.

As for traveling she was always ready to go some where. She loved seeing new places and old favorites. She was my favorite companion to go to Europe with, which we did together a number of times. Also Hawaii was a big family favorite. We were always at our best as a family when on vacation.

My favorite travel story with her was this: We'd decided to take the hovercraft from France to England. [Do they still have that?!] She hated small, fine print, and had asked me to fill out her declaration form for her. I asked her (she'd who'd been a housewife ever since she married my father) "what profession do you want me to put down for you?" She said, "oh, 'housewife' is so dull -- just put down 'socialite.'" I snorted, she laughed and said "Well, I'M SOCIAL, why not?"

Why not indeed? So I duly filled it in on the form. An hour or so later we'd finally gotten to the front of the line at customs and stood before a beaming young British lady who was looking at our forms. I'd quite forgotten my mother's exchange with me (we'd been distracted and amused by two travellers trying to elbow their way by everyone -- rather unsuccessfully, I might add.) But almost out of the blue, the Custom's lady looked at my mother (who was wearing non-descript "mom jeans" and a pull over shirt, and she said: "What's it *like* being a socialite?" We all burst out in gales of laughter.

Dear Old Dad, Happy Father's Day

Here's one for dear old dad. Didn't always appreciate him when I was younger, and he was far from perfect, but he had many good points. Basic respect for the working man, a hard worker, good provider, honest in business dealings, a fine patriot, and a sharp wit. Deceased since 2001, but remembered this day.

It's the classic "letterman Jacket" picture. Dad, skinny as he was then, played on the football team. Frackville, Pa., being a small town, even had some skinny guys like dad on the team. I asked him if he was a "tough guy" on the field. He said "I broke a kid's leg once." I asked "On purpose?" And he thought a bit and said "Well, let's just say 'accidentally on purpose.'" I laughed and mom just said "Oh, EDDDD." And then she had to laugh too.

This picture was taken in about 1948, give or take a year. Dad was about 16 here.

Midway Visit and Harbor Cruise

My cousin and her husband are still visiting so we took the opportunity to do a Harbor Cruise (like I did last year) and went on the Aircraft Carrier Midway.

Panoramic View from the USS Midway:





We lucked out, although they have a nice brochure and headset and guided tour, it doesn't have the immediacy of talking to someone actually serving on such a ship. But when we were down in the engine room, by chance also was a visiting enlisted man who is serving on another carrier who works in the engine room, who was touring his own family and friends around. He said on his detail there's 12 guys, and you work your way up by learning each position -- starting with the poor schlep who has to note all the reading on the gages and communicate them to the "powers that be" upstairs. The engine room is hotter than hades as it is under normal ops but in the Gulf it can get to well over 100 degrees down there.

Here's a picture of a little bit of the engine room.



This youngster here isn't all that much younger than the average crew member. The average serving crew member on a carrier is aged 19. Car insurance companies seldom rent cars to someone that young, but the US Government trains them and trusts them to do all manner of things on a carrier including being an integral part of launching and recovering fighters off the decks of carriers. The enlisted man says that on average it takes about 7 months or so for the average fellow in the engine room to be comfortable with being able to man any of the 12 positions down there on his crew.

About half the crew on a carrier "Runs the ship" and about half are involved with carrier ops. Those handling aircraft topside all wear color coded jersies. The one is "yellow" on the flight deck plays BOSS. Everyone on deck goes on his/her command. Those in red handle ordinance, etc. "KISS" -- "Keep it simple, stupid."

I did see one potential problem. It seems to me the berths in the brig are more commodious and less claustrophobic than the ones for the enlisted men! In "real life" they do have sheets! And the enlisted men's buncks have little curtains. The little "shelf" under each bunks is the small bit of room the crewman has to store his gear. There is a bit of locker space for such larger items like pea-coats, but it's hard to be a "pack rat" on a ship. BTW, the JUNIOR officers have only two bunks for each "rack" and a few extra inches of mattress! I didn't bother going up to "officer's country" but by comparision IIRC they live in the lap of luxury, with probably a chair and a little table! I expect the captain has a jacuzzi. :-D No wet bar though. Thanks, Josephus Daniels, you tee-totaling, racist, newspaper hack, friend of Woodrow "delusional" Wilson, and spoil sport extraordinaire! So no rum ration. Offically, anyway.

Enlisted men's sleeping quarters:



Brig:



There's a lot of different type of aircraft to see on board. Here is an "Avenger" the type George H.W. Bush flew towards the end of WWII.

Afterwards we were famished and ate at Anthony's -- generous portions at reasonable prices. We opted to eat outside, quicker and cheaper. We baby sat a really friendly fellow, Jake, while "mom" ordered and picked up. His "mom" informed us that Jake LOVED to find dropped French fries. He'd found one from me, and I was his bestest friend for that particular half minute.


Along the harbor are a number of statuary. Nothing too tripy, more whimsical, the kind I usually like. I like this squid:


On the other side of the Midway, the powers that be "went big."


History buffs will note the inspiration was from a famous Life Magazine photo. [The statue guy is a little less of a wolf than the real life guy. Given the "real life" guy had his hand on her butt! So he was cleaned up a bit for public consumption.)

Later on we did something really novel. We went out to Sunset Cliffs to watch...the sunset.

Cousins Rock!

Had a fun surprise visit from my cousin Rosemarie and her husband Kermit. It's their first time to Cali, and I haven't seen them since 2001. From left to right, Kermit, Rosemarie, and Me.



I was an "only" growing up, and we always moved around a lot, but I always appreciated having a lot of cousins. They were great substitute siblings for me. Close enough for fun, but without all the "mom, make her STOP looking at me" "MOM, make him/her stop touching me" crap.

Rosemarie was one of my few girl cousins. I have only two girl cousins on my mom's side, (the youngest girl, Katie, being 28 years younger than me!) Rosemarie was only 4 years older than me. Close enough to be a friend when I visited (and we also lived close by when I was 13 too.) We've always been able to easily pick up where we left off. I have 13 male cousins on that side. So it was "us two" against the bulk of them for the longest time!

Below is a picture of most of us "older" cousins on my grandmother's back porch. I was 4 and some, and Rosemarie was about 8. I'm at the far left in my saddle shoes and Rosemarie is right next to me. My youngest uncle, Joe, is the oldest here, holding the hand of Paul, Rosemarie's youngest brother. "The gang" [save my uncle John Shelak's kids, and Rosemarie's brother, Andy] was all there. Once, when I was not much older than I was here, we kids were all playing a game where we'd lay out a "treasure hunt" outside. You'd make a clue which would describe, somewhat cryptically, where the next clue was. And the person who found the last clue got to make up the next trail of clues. I "won" [figuring out the last clue was in a scarecrow) and because I couldn't write yet, Rosemarie helped me with the next set of clues. She was such a good cousin---not like her evil brother, Andy, who showed me how to play "Swab the deck."




(Hey, Rosemarie, you can click this bottom picture for a larger one you can save - I think my mom took this picture.)

"A Marissa" as a measure of time, and grandmothers with spunk

I had had a delightful conversation with my Godmother (and also my aunt) Mary on Christmas Day as is our wont. I'd asked her if she knew how my Grandmother and Grandfather (both from different parts of the Austro-Hungarian empire) had come to meet in the U.S. I'd known they met in the US, and that my grandmother had traveled from Europe alone, to go live with her sister in brother-in-law in Cleveland in September, 1920. What I did NOT know, which my aunt related, was that her sister and B-I-L were friends with a man who was a widower with small children. The intent was to match up "little sister," my grandmother, with the man. Apparently, my grandmother was rather put out by this whole arranged marriage business because she certainly didn't want, as my aunt put it "a USED husband" - a direct quote from my grammy, evidently.

Friend, My Grandmother - chambermaids*, Cleveland, early 20s

My grandmother worked as a hotel maid (note the pass key on the long cord!) in Cleveland before she met my grandfather. She is seen in the first picture, on the right, while taking a breather with her girlfriend, another immigrant girl. She is about 20 or so in this photo. She and this same girl were walking home from work one evening, where they ran into the young man who was to become my grandfather.

Paraskevia (Therese) Roman and Andrew Shelak early 1920s

I love the solemn expressions on both. So different from photos of modern couples. It was taken in the early 20s at a time when people had to stand very still in photos to avoid camera blur. I love the boater "poppy" is carrying. Ditto the spit shined shoes and high waters. :-D (Poppy, is there a flood somewhere?)

It's from my granddad that we get our love of the national past time. As a young immigrant he'd fallen in love with the game. Somewhere among my souveniers I have a nice picture of him as an older man sitting on bench in the sun behind their old house listing to a ballgame on a transistor radio, listening to the Phillies, no doubt. It occurs to me that as a young man it might have been possible to have been at the game when Ray Chapman (of the Cleveland team) had gotten killed by a baseball when he was up at bat against Carl Mays in 1920, only one of two times that's ever happened in a pro game. Sometime when spring rolls around and hope springs eternal, I'll do a baseball post about the family.

My aunt also mentioned that my grandfather had a particular fondness for the Blessed Mother and always measured time by her holidays. "A Marissa" - a feast or solemnity in honor of the Blessed Mother. He used the Annunciation to measure when it was time to start the planting. Until my mother, then the youngest of then 6 children, was seven, they lived on a tiny farm in Pennsylvania, (My youngest uncle Joe, was born 15 years later.) "Poppy" would do the harvesting around the Assumption and the feast of the Virgin's Birthday (depending on the crop.) and for the winter Marissa, he'd do his planning for the year.

While I've never done my planning and events around a "Marissa" I'm glad to say I measure time as well by the church calendar as much as the civil calendar. and as per tradition, my Aunt Mary will send a St. John the Baptist (Northampton, Pa) calendar to me soon. It's a calendar with all the eastern Rite days on it. My grandmother always kept one in her kitchen and referred to it all the time. I would hope most Catholic use a church calendar regularly (they certainly are scooped up very quickly!) - and may such customs help sustain us.

(* if anyone knows about which hotels there were in Cleveland in the early 1920s I'd love to know. It would appear that there is another hotel in the right background that begins with the letters "RE" - this hotel would be just a few blocks away. I must say I've always been inclined to be very generous when leaving the chambermaids a nice tip every time I stay in a hotel!)

Dad

Today is the 7th anni-
versary of my father's death. He'd died just before 9/11 and I was glad he didn't have to see that.

I think it's a bit poignant that we often don't understand our parents, dads in particular I think, until we are much older. When we're young, we see them come home from work, tired, tight lipped, often times not much communication beyond: "Hey, honey, get me a beer out of the fridge."

We don't really understand until we grow up and go to work ourselves and have to deal with "the boss" who essentially controls our being able to pay the bills and put food on the table. You understand now why "the old man" didn't want to bring any problems from work in the house. He sucked it up. He worked long hours. Kept a roof over your head, kept you warm, and fed, and gave you pocket money. You never had to worry about paying the electric bill or your tuition bill. He did. And he never pointed it out to you. Not once. [Well, other than your parents yelling at you "TURN OFF THAT LIGHT WE DO NOT OWN STOCK IN THE PP&L!!!" - Pennsylvania Power and Light, to the uninitiated. It was always them that we didn't own stock in, even well after having taken up residence in Virginia, New Hampshire, and California.]

Dad came from coal miner / farmer stock from the hard coal country of Pennsylvania. I got my sense of humor, patriotism, love of sports, any sales ability, and competitive spirit from him. I was totally out to lunch receiving the "quick mental math" gene both parents had - though I did make it through freshman calculus - thanks be to "the god of partial credit."

My dad was a convert to the faith, and I have to say he was more of an Easter/Christmas Catholic - especially as I got older. However, he was still a man of basic integrity. When I was about nine once, we'd eaten in a restaurant somewhere in North Carolina on our way back from a vacation. For some reason I'd lingered at the table that time, and had noticed 2 bucks left on the table. I had not known about tipping yet. I just thought dad had accidentally left change behind. Well, I picked it up, meaning to give it to him. I got distracted, but about 10 miles down the road said: "Hey, dad, you forgot your change." Well, in the mid 60s, two bucks was a decent tip at a roadside diner. Dad was very nice about it and didn't yell at me, but explained about tipping. We drove back and he made sure the waitress got her tip. "Never stiff the working man / woman." His gesture was all the more impressive, because I knew we'd be unlikely to stop there again.

My dad did have a wicked sense of humor. One Sunday, my mother had out done herself laying on a first class dinner after she'd knocked herself out in the kitchen all day. His favorite pot roast with all the trimmings, the best china, the whole nine yards. After he was called to dinner, he grudgingly tore himself from the football game he was watching and plopped himself down at the dinner table, wearing a seen-way-better-days undershirt. Mom took one look and yelled at him "ED, JUST ONCE COULD YOU MAKE AN EFFORT TO DRESS NICE FOR SUNDAY DINNER?!" Wordless, chasened, he got up and went to change to make my mother happy. He came back and sat down - wordless. He'd put on his best silk tie ... and was still sporting the ratty undershirt. You wanted to kill him, but you were laughing too hard.

This picture was taken in Rome in the spring of 1974. My dad did a lot of travel for his job, and sometimes he was rewarded with getting to take us on trips for fun too. This was our first time to Europe.

Dog days of Summer....

...we're in them and I hate it. I love spring when we start to get longer and longer hours of sunlight, and then we still can revel all through July ... but there's no denying that in August, the days have already started to cut back on sunshine, and the weather gets downright sultry and I don't want to do zip much of anything.

Early August also coincides with dredging up memories of my mom's last birthday and her death and burial. A sad time all around for me, but I'm glad at least she didn't die around the holidays, particularly Easter. It would have been almost unbearable.

I can remember the last birthday gifts I gave her. One of which was a movie called "Come to the Stable" which she'd described to me earlier that year, and I saw at the video store not long before her death. It's more of a Christmassy story...nuns wanting to buy a non-Catholic's land so they could build a hospital. So there we were, the weekend before my mom died, watching this Christmas movie in the hottest part of the year...I could hear a death rattle in her throat, or the precursor of it, and tried to deny it to myself, but on reflection I think I knew. I'd not gone to Mass that Sunday, afraid to leave her for a few hours. But what pleasure for her to see that movie which she'd not seen in roughly 40 years. So 13 years ago today, at exactly this time we were watching that movie.

The photo above is one of my mother when she was in her early 20s. It was her "girl next door" look. Unlike me, she could parallel park. (Well, not more than a 3 point turn at most.) We did, once, when I was about 10 take the '66 turquoise Thunderbird (then brand new) out for, not a "spin" but a fly. We were living in Roanoke, Va. and she'd come to pick me up from school. There were two ways to get down the hill from St. Andrew's Parish towards our home. One road was pretty good, but a little further from the church, the other was rather steep. It went down a San Francisco like incline, flattened out to a rather short straightaway, then down another steep grade. You really had to ride the brakes going down. Well, 90% of the time we took the less steep route. However, one fine afternoon we'd taken the steeper route. Mom sorta "forgot" and took the hill like she did the other one. Yes, she realized late and we simply FLEW off that short straightaway. All four wheels off the ground. We predated Thelma and Louise by a number of years. We decided this little story was something dad best not know about. Not right then, anyway. God, how we laughed all the way home and forever after.

Mom and Me

Today would have been my mother's 78th birthday. She died on Aug. 8, 1995. She was a wonderful mother, and I adored her. I'm not going to say we didn't have our mother/daughter fights, because we did. [Like Bill Cosby's mom, my mother was also an expert on pigsties. Because she told me that I'd had the "worst pigsty I've ever seen."]

I always appreciated the fact that she was always there for me, emotionally, intellectually, and physically. She came from a poor family (not uncommon in the depression years she grew up in) but she was always rich in love. She supported me in everything I did and never tried to box me in as some mothers did in the 50s and 60s with daughters. She never said things like "Girls don't do X, girls don't do Y." She always said "If you think it will be fun, just do it." I didn't fully appreciate this until I was older.

Given the time frame my parents grew up in, a good education was hard to come by and neither graduated high school, much less college. But they always provided me with all the books I wanted and made sure I got the intellectual stimulation I needed and I was provided with all the education I wanted. I was the first girl, either side of the family to graduate from college. [Though granted I am blessed with far more male 1st cousins than female.]

My mother hated petty gossip and was not what you would call particularly a "joiner" though she did have her friends. She always kept busy with raising me and looking after my dad and she did the bill paying, gardening, most of the housework, and a lot of the home maintenance work (dad had the "two left thumbs" gene but mom got her dad's "golden hands.") She was a great cook - nothing "fancy" but she made all the beloved ethnic foods of my heritage (Easter was always our favorite time of the year, and Christmas a distant 2nd.) How wonderful to come home from school at lunchtime and have a nice hot vegetable soup and a toasted cheese sandwich. You could taste the love that went into it. When I was small I was the recipient of many handmade dresses and skirts. She also drove my lazy carcass to school when I didn't get up in time to catch the school bus. We loved to travel together.

She was usually a daily Mass goer, and the best thing she ever did for me was pass on her faith. My dearest memories of her were going to Benedictions and prayer hours with her when I was growing up, and her listening to my prayers at night.

There is not a day that goes by that I don't miss her. The above photo was the one my dad carried in his wallet until the day he died.

April Fool's Anniversary

My parents, Edward H. and Catherine S. Horn were married on April 1, 1955. Both are now deceased. This was one of their formal wedding pictures. Neither had much money, but mom's bridal dress looked like a million bucks. Years later when I was looking at it, I noticed she had made the pattern and had hand sewn every stitch herself! She'd worked in a garment factory from the time she was 16 or so until she married my dad. The "sewing" gene was one I missed completely.

Bill for Baby? No problem.

At least in 1956. Total bill for 4 day hospital stay, delivery, drugs etc at Sacred Heart Hospital, Allentown, Pa? $80.20. I note my dad paid $50 bucks and paid the balance later.


Click here to enlarge photo.

Here are ALL the charges incurred during the 4 day hospital stay when I was born:

Room and Board ($9.00 per day) - $36 (4 days)
Labratory - $6.00
Operating Room and Delivery - $10
Drugs - $4.45
Anesthesia - $7.50
X-Ray $1.00
Nursery - $12.00,
Baby Bracelet - $1.00
Misc. $2.50
------------------------------------------------------------------------
$80.20

Fashion Felony - Guided by the Hand of God

Have you ever heard God laugh? I have. The best story I have to illustrate this is an incident which happened not long after my mother died, in 1995.

Dad at his sartorial best. Mom didn't need help.
The older I get, the younger they look.

Let me preset the story by going back a few years before that. My mother had done laundry and was helping my dad get ready for a business trip that he'd be taking for a few days. My dad was the manager of a bottling plant and occasionally he'd go on a bottler's convention, and "the guys" would also take time for a round of golf or two.

My dad, never a snappy dresser, occasionally had to be chided by mom for the odd fashion felony here and there - mom would catch him before he made it out the door. My dad had some casual clothes to take along for the "hanging out and playing golf" portion of the trip. There were two items that gave my mom concern: one a light blue shirt, with tiny white dots, as well as a pair of very thin stripe white/blue seersucker trousers. Both nice garments in their own right.

My mother looked at the two items and said to my dad: "Ed, these blues ARE about the same shade, and *you* will be tempted to wear them together, but stripes and dots Do. Not. Go. Together. PLEASE promise me that you will NOT wear them together, against my better judgment, I will pack them, but you have to promise me."

Dad said "sure, I promise." When dad got back, he had a souvenir photo of his golf foursome. What was he wearing? Yes. you guessed. Mom just shook her head and she and I laughed about that.

Fast forward to two afternoons past her death when dad and I were to go to the funeral parlor where a my mom had been prepared in her casket. It was the first time I would look at my mom since she had died, and I was a little concerned how I would handle that. Normally I'm good in crisis times but knew my dad tended to be a basket case in such matters. I'd not seen my dad that day, having last minute errands to run. We arrived at the funeral parlor separately, me first. He came in with my grandmother, and predictably, he was not holding up. Not that he was prone to tears, just that I knew that it would be the case this time and it was. I took some time calming him down and playing "good daughter."

When he was finally calm ... I suddenly noticed what he was wearing. If you guessed "links special" you are right. I *almost* *almost* laughed out loud right then and there.

The funeral director right then came over to me and asked if I'd like to go in first to see that everything was okay. I practically leapt from the chair and went in to be with her alone and said: "Mom, he DID IT AGAIN!!!!" I like to think this was the last private laugh my mother and I had together. I kissed her, and knew everything would be okay for me. I am QUITE sure God guided my dad's hand when he selected those two particular items to go together. I thought "GOOD ONE, God!"

Predictably, *I* fell apart three weeks later...but that sure helped at the time. I never told my dad about that, not wanting to chance hurting his feelings ... but I expect he knows about it now.
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Thank You Veterans

Today is Vet-
erans Day in the US. This is the day we thank all who have served in the Armed Forces [For my UK readers, we have a Memorial Day in May that is closer to your Remembrance Day.]

I'd like to honor my close relatives who served in the military:

Father:
Edward H. Horn: US Air Force reg/. Navy Reserve (Korea)

Grandfather:
Andrew Shelak, Sr.: US Army (WWI)

Uncles:
Andrew Shelak, Jr.: US Army (Korea)
John Shelak, Sr.: US Marine Corp (WWII)
John Sawka, Sr.: US Navy (WWII)
Joseph Michur: US Army (WWII)
Rowland Kreglow: US Marine Corp (Korea)
Leonard Chowansky: US Army (Korea)

Cousins:
John Shelak, Jr.: US Army (Vietnam)
James Shelak: US Army (Vietnam)
John Sawka, Jr. US Army (Vietnam)
Andrew Sawka: US Marine Corp (Vietnam)

There were also more Andrews, Johns, and Joes in the family + two other cousins with the same first and last names, plus a couple of Michaels. When talking each other sometimes we had to be really specific about which "John, Andy or Joe" you meant! Growing up I always assumed "everybody's" dad or uncle or cousin had served. And with a lot of my friends, that was so. [Being born in the 50s pretty much guaranteed that that would be the case a lot of the time.] But I find that's not the case as much any more.

90th Psalm Douay-Rheims

1 The praise of a canticle for David. He that dwelleth in the aid of the most High, shall abide under the protection of the God of Jacob. 2 He shall say to the Lord: Thou art my protector, and my refuge: my God, in him will I trust. 3 For he hath delivered me from the snare of the hunters: and from the sharp word. 4 He will overshadow thee with his shoulders: and under his wings thou shalt trust. 5 His truth shall compass thee with a shield: thou shalt not be afraid of the terror of the night.

6 Of the arrow that flieth in the day, of the business that walketh about in the dark: of invasion, or of the noonday devil. 7 A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand: but it shall not come nigh thee. 8 But thou shalt consider with thy eyes: and shalt see the reward of the wicked. 9 Because thou, O Lord, art my hope: thou hast made the most High thy refuge. 10 There shall no evil come to thee: nor shall the scourge come near thy dwelling.

11 For he hath given his angels charge over thee; to keep thee in all thy ways. 12 In their hands they shall bear thee up: lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. 13 Thou shalt walk upon the asp and the basilisk: and thou shalt trample under foot the lion and the dragon. 14 Because he hoped in me I will deliver him: I will protect him because he hath known my name. 15 He shall cry to me, and I will hear him: I am with him in tribulation, I will deliver him, and I will glorify him.

16 I will fill him with length of days; and I will shew him my salvation.

(The picture is of Washington Praying at Valley Forge.)

Happy 232rd Birthday, United States Marine Corp

Most of these Marines would be in their late 40s or early 50s now, but I took a photo of them in the prime of their young manhood. The occasion was the visit of Queen Elizabeth's visit to San Diego in the early 1980s.

There is a very nice thread about the US Marine Corp here, regards the founding of the USMC and their traditions. I'd like to acknowledge three members of my family who have served in the Marines: Uncles John Shelak (a veteran of Guadalcanal), now deceased, and Rowland Kreglow (one of the frozen Chosin), and my cousin Andrew Sawka (Vietnam era.)

As most of you who have had service members who have fought in battles know: these people tend to be very quiet about their service days, unless talking among themselves, or if a younger family member directly asks. I was in my 20s before I realized that my Godfather, my uncle Rowland, had been a frozen Chosin. I happened to be looking closely at one of his hands and noticed an extra "knuckle" around the base of his thumb. I asked him about it. It was shrapnel he still carried from that engagement. I'd known for years that he'd been a Marine, during the Korean War and served all up and down the Korean Peninsula - but didn't realize he had a Purple Heart from his service there. My uncle said the shrapnel in his hand didn't give him trouble - I expect he's opted to keep it in there out of wordless tribute to doubtless fallen comrades. It was not a question I dared ask. In talking later with my cousin Michael about it, he told me his dad never talked about the service, unless pressed.

On this day, I think the prayer to St. Michael is most appropriate:

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle,

be our protection against the malice and snares of the devil.
May God rebuke him we humbly pray;
and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host,
by the power of God,
thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits
who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.
Amen.

Although the custom of saying this prayer after the low Masses seems to have gone away after Vatican II, I am happy to say that when I have had occasion to attend Mass on a military base, this prayer was said.
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Happy 108th Birthday

Paraska (Theresa) Roman
Nov. 5, 1899 - Feb. 18, 1991

If my grandmother had lived she'd have been 108 on Nov. 5, 2007. The best thing my mother ever gave me was my faith. She got it from her mother. My grammy emmigrated from Vysnapolanka, Slovakia and landed in the port of New York Sept 6, 1920. The name of the village translates to "high field." She had made the trip alone, and continued on to her sister and brother-in-law in Cleveland, Ohio. I once found the town of her birth on a detailed map. It sits in the Tatra Mountains almost directly north of the town of Presov - it is within a few miles of the present Slovak/Polish border.

Her father visited the US once after she immigrated, but she never saw her mother or most of her siblings again. I had looked up her immigration record at www.ellisisland.org - it's free, and you can do a screen capture, if you have relatives that came through that port. I see that she traveled on the ship Imperator, and had paid for her own passage. The ship was later known as the Berengaria. It's a curiously odd sensation seeing the family history confirmed in official records, and because of this record I know the address to which she went. I am glad to note she had no plans on overthrowing the US government. I do remember asking her years ago if she had any apprehension, or long wait at Ellis Island. She told me "no, I was in and out of there before I knew it."

The picture above is her passport picture. I was told the blouse was white, the vest red and the scarf bright blue. She told me when she was growing up when the had material the girls in the town all got a similar skirt made. She met my grandfather, Andrew Shelak, in Cleveland and they married and later moved to Pennsylvania, where they raised 7 children. My maternal Grandfather was born in what is now Tarnov Krasno, Poland. They were both born in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and were of Ukrainian heritage (with some Polish and Slovak thrown in the admixture.)

Below is a picture of her in her early 80s - she'd made a casual afternoon lunch for Easter. Easter was and always has been our favorite holiday. As great a holiday as Christmas is, it was and is a far distant 2nd best to Easter. She made the most wonderful foods - my favorite, being homemade bread, which can be seen in abundance here.

Easter, April, 1981

When I was very small, after my grandfather had died when I was 5, I sometimes got to sleep with my grandmother. She'd had had a hip operation shortly after he died in April of 1962, and that spring and summer we lived with her briefly while she recovered. I still consider that one of the best times of my life. Before bedtime, she would slowly say the Our Father in Ukrainian, and I would repeat it with her. My grandparents were eastern rite Catholics. My grandmother always kept a church calendar, and observed the stricter fast rules. I used to love looking at the calendar for Eastern Rite saints. Her nickname derived from "St. Paraskevia."

I can remember how much pleasure it gave her to comb my hair - though I didn't always appreciate the 100 strokes at the time. She did indulge my liking for the wild rabbits in that she didn't shoo them away when I was around - though they did plague her vegetable patch. In the evenings we'd watch television together. Her favorite was Jimmy Durante. She always enjoyed his sign off line: "Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are." I've always been partial to his Inka-Dinka-Do♫ number myself. I defy anyone to remain in a bad mood after hearing it. Whenever we went for a ride in the car, she always called the "the machine." Years later, when I took Russian, I was delighted to find that they call a car "a machine."

The picture below is one of the few I have with both grandparents and me. The occasion was my youngest uncle Joe's 8th grade graduation. It was taken in the spring of 1960.

The sun was in my eyes!

Although we grandchildren didn't always obey our own parents, it would have been unthinkable for us, nor would it ever have occurred to any one of us to leave any request of our grandparents unheeded! I still miss her very much to this day. I miss my grandfather too - he had the most firm but gentle touch of any man I've known. I wish I'd gotten to know him better, but I suppose I am lucky in that some of my cousins never got to know him at all. I am very proud that they were my grandparents.