I am a penguin?

Both my parents were bilingual. My father spoke fluent German, and my mother understands and speaks Italian.

When I was growing up, I was envious of those who spoke more than one language. While I took French in high school, I never quite got the hang of speaking it. In order to learn a language, one must experience immersion.

I discovered that I might have had an aptitude for languages when I visited family in Sweden about 23 years ago. I was only there for two weeks, but at the end of that time, I had begun to pick up the gist of conversations. Had I extended my stay, I am confident that I would have picked up the language.

This past summer, I went to Montreal with a church group. I was excited to learn that my high school French was put to good use; that is, what little I remembered did. Actually, more came back to me than I thought. I remember being lost on a street in Montreal, and I was trying to find my way. I standing on a street with a woman who knew very little English, and I was trying to get directions. She and I fumbled together — she knew very little English, and I knew very little French but somehow we made it work.

I found my way.

Although I made a few halfhearted attempts to learn a second language in the past, I decided to make a serious attempt this year. I enlisted the aid of Duolingo, a free language learning website, to help me learn Spanish. So far, I have been quite diligent, but as the lessons get more challenging, I truly wonder if an old dog can learn new tricks.

Part of the difficulty is the variety of verbs the language offers.

English is fairly simple:

I drink.
You drink.
He/she/it drinks.
You drink.
We drink.
They drink.

Spanish offers a bit more of a challenge:

Yo bebo.
Tú bebes/usted bebe.
El/Ella bebe.
Nosotros bebemos.
Ellos/Ellas beben.

In addition, Spanish speakers often drop the pronoun before the verb, making it challenging for us non-native speakers to catch on. I wonder if English is as difficult to learn as a second language.

That is just the tip of the iceberg. There seems to be more rules to follow than the English language offers. I am beginning to wonder if I will ever be able to get the hang of reading and speaking Spanish.
The limited vocabulary I have learned so far has been amusing.

Yo soy un pingüino.


I am a penguin?

The Power of Loss.

My father died last month. I use the term “die” instead of the polite term “pass away” because he always hated that term. “Pass away to where?” he would say.

If I were to answer his question today, I would tell him that even though his physical existence on earth ceased, he is still very much alive. I always find him in the strangest of places.
Last night, my husband and I went to a Vespers concert at the church (marimba and piano). The featured music included Beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Bach, among other selections.

I continue to be amazed at the caliber of talent offered at the local level. The couple who performed last night had been working together professionally for over a decade and  had immersed themselves in the local musical culture, as well as in areas up north. They are both entertainers and educators with resumes boasting some of the finest universities in the country. They had established their careers up north; however, they chose to spend their later years in Florida in order to take advantage of its mild winters.

Although native Floridians still exist, many of us move here from other parts of the country. Others visit seasonally — we call those residents “snow birds.” Up until the past year, my parents would pack their car and head down to Florida in order to escape the frigid New York winters.

If my father were still alive, my parents would be here, and I wondered  if we would have invited them to join us.  We might not have thought to invite them, only to express our regret later.  My father would have loved it, especially the Bach’s Concerto in A Minor.  I imagined him sharing my fascination as the woman played the marimba with two mallets in each hand, effortlessly balancing precision and speed. I saw him in my mind as he looked at the pianist’s face, engrossed in the moment. I almost cried, because I knew the extent to which he loved music and how much he would have enjoyed the small, yet appreciative setting.

I began to fill up. All of a sudden, an episode of M*A*S*H popped into my head. In this episode, Radar has the hots for a woman who has sophisticated taste in music. He doesn’t know anything about Baroque, so his buddies advise him to exclaim “Ah! Bach!” whenever he is at a loss for words with her. I remembered how the term was used all too frequently, and  I almost giggled at the thought.

My father saved me in my own grief.


He had the same crazy sense of humor too.

Reflections on Mother's Day

I am not a mother, nor will I ever be.

Every year I sit through countless commercials, walk through stores filled with Mother's Day signage, and, on Mother's Day, I hit the pew in church and get a sound lecture on how wonderful mothers are.

I am not putting down mothers; in fact, I have a pretty great mother myself. At 84, she is still a fiery ball of energy. Her physical state and attitude are much younger, and she is as feisty as all hell. I guess she has to be, because I was a handful, especially in my teenage years. She used to threaten that when I grew up, I would have kids like me.

Instead of honoring mothers based almost exclusively on biology, why not honor all the women who look after your loved ones on a daily basis? There are many women who tend to your elderly parents, teach your children, and look after your parents, brothers, and sisters who are hospitalized. Women are out there every day saving lives as first responders. Woman may heal your pets or help comfort your beloved companions when it's time to end their suffering.

If you look back upon your life, you may find a woman who influenced you or comforted you at a time when your mother wasn't able. This might have been a teacher, coworker, or favorite aunt. It could even have been a friend's mother. When I was in eighth grade, a teacher showed me a kindness that I have not forgotten to this day. This woman had no children, but dedicated her entire life to enriching the lives of other women's children.

Why not celebrate all women on Mother's Day?

There are many reasons why women do not have children of their own. They may choose not to for various reasons that could be as simple as not wanting to pass down illnesses and conditions to yet another generation. Some women never find the right partner, or if they do, their biological clocks already passed them by. Some might feel they can't raise a child, or they do not want to bring a child into a troubled world. Some just dislike kids; therefore, they know they will make lousy moms.

On the other hand, there are those who always wanted children, but could never have any. These women may feel a special kind of sorrow on Mother's Day. Some of the same women may have influenced your children or looked after the health of your family. Maybe there are people in the world who look to these woman with as deep or a greater love than they do their own mothers, for whatever reason.

This Mother's Day, take a look at all the women around you. What do you see? Do you see just mothers, or do you see influencers, comforters, teachers, and healers -- many who may also be mothers?

Motherhood is more than just biology.

Happy Mother's Day to all women.

Periodic Posting

I don't come here as often as I should.

I've actually been blogging for other people, as well as writing web content. I wrote at least 100 web pages for a factoring company, and I also have been writing product descriptions.

Best of all, I have been staying home and living a rather stress-free life. Unfortunately, because I have been staying home and leading a stress-free life, I have no interesting stories to tell.

I understand that in order to have a blog that people will want to read,  I have to write interesting content. Unfortunately, anything interesting is personal; therefore, it is published on my personal blog or is not published at all.

I need to find direction for this blog. I thought it was going to consist of anecdotes, but I just don't have enough.

Thoughts?

"a cat makes life fun"

Things That Go Bump In The Night.

I have always been able to see ghosts.

Problem is, I have to remember that many people don't.

As a small child, I was very perceptive and I was very comfortable with the fact that I could see what nobody else could see, hear what nobody else could hear, and feel what nobody else could feel. I was able to walk into a cemetery and see it buzzing with people, even though I knew it was empty.

I have learned to keep most of what I see and hear to myself, as most people would find me crazy. However, every so often, I let a story out.

Today is your lucky day.

This is one of many.

About 30 years ago, I was dating a guy who I met in college. It was fairly early on in the relationship, and one afternoon, he came to pick me up. My parents let him in the door and as I was walking over to greet him, I saw he had a woman with him. She stood about up to his shoulder, had a reddish bouffant hairdo, and was wearing a very loud, bright yellow and purple dress. She looked a bit stuck in time and she appeared as if she was in her mid to late 40's. I was just about to great her, when all of a sudden she she looked startled...at which point, she disappeared into thin air.

Gone.

:::poof:::

My boyfriend saw the look on my face and asked me what I saw. To quote his exact words, "You look like you saw a ghost."

As a matter of fact, I did. When I described the woman to him, he told me that I had given him a spot on description of his mother, and she was wearing a favorite dress she wore frequently.

At the time this happened, his mother had been dead over 10 years.

I had never seen a picture of his mother before.

The Cobbler's Wife Is Always Barefoot.

Or something like that.

I am just a dreadful blogger.

Well...not really.

What have I been doing these past few weeks?

Writing.

And lots of it.

I have been enjoying every day and have decided that working from home is the way to go...it's working out well for me.

I'm going on my third spring here in Florida and I am liking it. I particularly enjoy watching the TV and seeing all the snow piling up in the northern part of the country while I find myself whining about how frigid the temperature is when the mercury dares to dip below 70*.

Brrrrr.

Headed out for the first time today with my husband and nephew to the strawberry fest in Plant City. I didn't want to go because I thought it would be all about farming and strawberries but I ended up being glad I went, although I felt my thighs starting to widen after I passed each booth of carnival food.

They had a lot of rides there but I didn't go on any. I hate anything that spins around or goes up high, so that limits my choices somewhat.

They do have a talent for separating people from their money though. I spend $17.50 for a funnel cake and 3 drinks...yikes!!! $4.50 for an ice cream cone.

They did have some cool vendors there, although I did not spend a lot there either because I didn't want to spent all day lugging stuff around. Plus, I am cheap. 

And now, for my friend, Lynda:

 

The End of a Relationship.

I wish I knew then what I know now.

My 20's were riddled with many abusive relationships -- almost an entire decade punctuated by one bad relationship after another.

Relationships all ran the same course --  a young man would lure me into the dysfunctional drama that was his life. Soon, that drama became my life and a similar pattern would always ensue.

Each relationship began in a similar manner in which a handsome suitor, knowing all the right lines, swept me off my feet and led me into a world of dreamy romance and pure joy. This man was always an attentive lover and everything I ever wanted. In retrospect, I call it the honeymoon phase -- the time in a relationship where everything was perfect and nothing could ever go wrong.

Soon after, phase two began. Phase two started subtly enough in which the young man began to exhibit minor behavioral changes. Perhaps he snapped at me for no apparent reason or he wasn't "in the mood." I  dismissed these minor issues as moodiness or tiredness. As negative experiences continued, I ignored them or made excuses for inexcusable behavior, somehow thinking that I had caused these issues.

Eventually, the relationship escalated into phase three in which all out abuse occurred. Here is where the lying, cheating, and other kinds of abuses  occurred, while I still hung onto the hope that things would change and the relationship would shift back into the honeymoon stage where all was perfect.

Unfortunately, I hung around far too long waiting for the perfect lover to return. He was gone forever, but there I would be, hanging around, delusional and holding on to the false hope that all would be well again.

Knowing what I know now, I would have left all of those relationships at phase two. I believe we all go through a phase two in relationships; however, that phase should never turn into an abusive one. It is the knowledge and ability to recognize and separate healthy relationships from dysfunctional ones that ensures our ultimate well-being. Maturity allows us to turn away from harmful relationships once we realize that the longer we remain, the worse they become and the more difficult  it is to walk away.

These relationships do not necessarily concern individuals; such relationships could easily be with a group, organization, or an employer. The trick is to recognize and identify the key elements and clues that allow us to view these relationships as what they are, energy-draining and destructive, and then walk away.

Walking away is never easy, but healthy choices seldom are.