I Am a Computer Techie - Repairing My Palm Pilot

I have a new best friend.  His name is Shawn and he lives somewhere in cyberspace.  Today I spent 50 minutes engaged in profound conversation with him and at the end of it all, I had the greatest sense of accomplishment.  Life is good!
In reality, Shawn is a chat technical support person employed by Palm, the maker of my T/X Palm Pilot.  A few days ago as I was activating the sync process to update the data from my handheld PDA (personal data assistant) to the backup file on my computer,  the application crashed and wiped out much of the information on my computer.  The Palm Pilot is my lifeline to my world.  It holds my entire life...my calendar, my addresses and phone numbers, my memos of important information.  I have been told that PDAs are obsolete, like beta and VHS cassette tapes and rotary dial phones, having been replaced with newer, smarter technology. But mine is still essential to me and I needed help!  By going to the Palm website, searching for their product support section, and activating the Chat support, I connected with Shawn.
Bottom line, my PDA is fixed, all done via a chat screen with Shawn giving me step by step instructions, accessing my desktop with my permission, using a red marker to indicate what I was to click and push and open, sending me a small repair application to debug my device and finally restoring all my old information.  It felt like magic and as I followed his prompts I was in a state of awe that all of this was even possible.

However, along with the sense of elation that comes with success, I am also left with a sense of anxiety as I realize how dependent I have become on electronic devices.  These tools are marvelous and I love them...the Palm, the cell phone, the computer, email, the Netbook, the Kindle.  They enrich and, in some ways, simplify my life.  Yet, I have become dependent on their availability and function.  My recipes...on my computer.  My letters...on my computer.  My maps...on my computer.  My checkbook...on my computer.  This has familiar ring to it..."all my eggs in one basket!"   While I am pondering this predicament,  I think it would be wise to print out hardcopy of all my information and then back everything up to my external harddrive.  Was life simpler and calmer with stone and chisel?

I Am a Blogger - Joining the "Italy in Books" Challenge

When I began writing my blog in August, I was using it as a selfish gift to myself, a mechanism to capture various events and activities that add the seasoning to my life and to create a discipline that would result in writing more regularly. As with any new interest that I begin I have discovered that there is more to blogging than that and as I have ventured forth I've discovered a "blogging underground" with dedicated, interesting, like-minded people who connect regularly, following each other's posts, sharing ideas, comments, encouragement, and in doing so creating a virtual community.  One way they do this is by joining various "challenges" where they commit to linking together and sharing regular posts on a specific topic.

Since I love to read and I love Italy and I love to write I decided to try one and will be participating in the "Italy in Books" challenge.  I will commit to read 12 books during the year, fiction or non-fiction, that are set in Italy and then post a review of the book. This challenge is being "hosted" by Brighton Blogger, on her Book After Book reading blog.  It is open to anyone...blogger or non-blogger, and the information is located here.

My shelves of books on Italy!

I have four shelves of a bookcase filled with books, already read or to-be-read, that are either set in or about Italy.  To read one book a month  for the coming year...now that is a New Year's Resolution I will thoroughly enjoy!

I Am a Pilgrim - The Annual Pilgrimage to Claro's Italian Market

All Italian-American children who grew up in the 50's can close their eyes and be transported to the Italian Deli where their parents purchased imported Italian meats, cheese, pasta, pastries to grace their tables on special days.  I can remember the one my dad used to go to, Ciconi's, a little red brick building on the corner of a street on the south side of Kent, Ohio. The owner was actually a distant cousin and it felt friendly when we entered but I didn't really like it.  It was small, crowded with items piled haphazardly.  It was dark because there were few windows and the ones they had were very high above the shelving.  It was smelly because it had cheeses and salamis hanging from the ceilings.  And it had sawdust on the floors that stuck to my shoes. But in we went and my dad would gather all the items on his list and then pile them into the car like treasures.

Years have passed and I now live in Southern California...where dining and shopping for food items has reached a state of glamour.  There is a Bristol Farms and a Whole Foods (or whole paycheck as some call it) within a stone's throw from my house.  But when the holidays approach and I begin to compile my shopping list, I tell my husband we must make THE trip, about 50 minutes to the east of us to San Gabriel, CA to purchase the Italian items I need for Christmas Eve.  "What is wrong with Bay Cities Market in Santa Monica?," he asks me, "It's Italian."  My eyes roll and I try not to sound patronizing as I reply ..."their meats are Boar's Head...that is NOT Italian."  So, this morning we climbed into our car...despite the fact that it was pouring rain and had dropped over 3 inches on the southland in the last 24 hours...and headed east to my mecca...Claro's Italian Market.

Claro's Market, Valley Blvd., San Gabriel, CA

To give you an idea of why Claro's meets my standards for authentic Italian, look at the floor that greets me as I push open the door....SAWDUST!

I walk slowly up and down the aisles like a child in a candy store, trying to restrain myself from impulse purchases.  My sense are overwhelmed with the smells from the meats and cheeses and the sounds as workers and regular customers shout out to each other and Italian Christmas music plays in the background.

An old (older than I) Italian woman stands at the meat counter insisting that the young man serving her, cut her cappacolo thinner so she can practically read the newspaper through it.

The main item we cannot leave without is the homemade Italian Sausage.  Sausage with Peppers and Onions is a requirement on our Family Christmas Eve Menu.

Jay is eyeing the canned Scungelli (conch) hoping for a seafood salad.  I am asking if they have any fresh or salted sardines and the clerk yells out across the store, "Hey, Frank, we got any sardines??"

When all the items are selected, we join the line of customers waiting to reach the cash register

...our total $111.33...and that is without any wine!  What did I buy?
10 pounds of sausage (5 sweet and 5 hot)
3 pounds of ricotta
a chunk of imported Pecorino Romano cheese
a slice of Ricotta Salata cheese to grate on pasta
three packages of imported pasta (one of Gabriel's new favorite...cavatappi)
a deli container of dried black olives (prepared on the premises)
a deli container of cracked Sicilian green olives (prepared on the premises)
a deli container of salted anchovies
a quart of Spumoni Ice Cream
1/2 pound of sliced cappacolo ham (imported...NOT Boar's Head)
1/2 pound of imported pancetta (Italian bacon)
1 package of imported Torrone candy
1 stick of imported pepperoni
1 can of Scungelli (yes, he will have his seafood salad)
2 ounces of anise oil...not extract!
bread
and....oh, yes, as we hand the checker an empty wrapper, $3.99 for the Italian sandwich Jay already ate while we were shopping.

Authentic Italian Delis are becoming rare in our world.  I am grateful that there is still a Claro's Italian Market, even if it means a long drive to get there.  The pilgrimage is half the fun!

I Am an Heir - My Family Inheritance

Families have been known to come to blows over the family inheritance and who inherits what.  "I get the ruby pendant," "I get grandmother's silver," "I get Dad's gold ring."  Well my family's last name is Rinaldi, not Rockefeller and the items bequeathed to us are of a much simpler nature.  We don't necessarily have to wait for a reading of the will because some items are gradually being passed on to the recipients as my mother feels inclined to do so.  On various past Christmas eves she has given her children her wedding crystal and her china tea cups.  At a family gathering a few summers ago, she gave her 2 granddaughters each a ring that my father had given to her.  Each item was always been received with gladness and appreciated for the sentimental value more than the monetary value.  Today I became an heir.  I received something I have always wanted as my own...something that I have been telling her for years that I want handed down to me.  "Please, please, please," I have begged.  And it happened...today I received...the cannoli sticks.

Cannoli are a traditional Sicilian dessert, prepared and served at all holidays and special occasions.

Every good Sicilian woman knows how to make them from scratch and every good Sicilian woman has her own set of cannoli sticks. When my mother was a young bride her father, Sebastiano, made her a set of cannoli sticks.  He took a broomstick, cut it into 6 inch lengths, sanded them, oiled them and baked them in the oven to season them.  Every year, for over 60 years, my mother has used them to make her own cannoli shells and over the years their constant use in hot oil has refined them so that they are now worth their weight in gold.  Modern women purchase aluminum sticks from a specialty cookware shop or even Amazon.com  and I suppose they work very well but for me, my treasures are the wooden sticks.

For the past few years I have gone to my mother's kitchen before Christmas and together we have made the cannoli shells.  It takes an afternoon, she making the dough, rolling it out, wrapping it around the sticks, using egg white to attach the two ends.

I am at the stove, dropping the shells in the hot oil and frying them until they are golden.

As we work, we talk, we remember, we laugh.  She tells me what to remember about the recipe...to keep the dough thin so the shells will be light and crisp.  To not get the oil too hot or they will not be cooked on the inside.  To gently tap the one stick with another to loosen the fried shell.  This year, her 94th Christmas, she has decided that while she will still bake her two types of biscotti, maybe the Reeses Peanut Butter Balls, and her meatballs and sauce, she will not make the cannoli shells.  When I offered to make them at my home, she got the sticks down from the cupboard and she said..."You might as well keep them at your house.  They are going to you anyway!" 

So, now I have the cannoli sticks, my legacy from my mother.  My heart is full and I treasure the gift...but it is a bittersweet gift because it represents a passing on of a tradition, from her kitchen to mine. 

2006 - The cannoli shells

Thank you, Mom!

I Am a Knitter - The Baby Surprise Jacket

My maternal grandmother first put a crochet hook in my hand around the age of 9 and taught me to crochet edging on a handkerchief.  Crocheting is a craft that Italian woman have handed down to daughters and granddaughters for generations. 

Sicilian women - photo by Jann Huizenga

Never having idle hands, they would gather together in courtyards and around kitchen tables, fingers flying as they crafted edges for pillowcases, doilies for furniture and even potholders, while they talked. My hope chest and those of my cousins were filled with these items. While I knew how, I didn't use the skill until I was older, but the appreciation of doing something useful with my hands and creating something unique was within me.

When I was expecting my first child, two dear friends taught me the basics of knitting.  I began to make what seemed to me to be more practical items such as sweaters, scarves, and afghans for my sons and other family members.

Grandson Nikolas - age 4

Over the years I have continued to find comfort, meditation, relaxation and accomplishment in knitting.

I recall a time when my young son was watching me knit and finally said..."Gosh Mom, you are making that out of a just a string!"  And it is true...a ball of yarn, a ball of string, a couple of needles and a pattern and the result can be a work of art.

Since we began using a DVR, enabling us to record TV shows to watch at a later time, our television watching has changed and increased.  To keep my hands busy so they aren't reaching for chips I like to have a knitting project at hand.  My friend, Monika, introduced me to the most clever pattern I have ever worked.  It is called the Baby Surprise Jacket and was designed by knitting guru, Elizabeth Zimmermann.  It is available from Schoolhouse Press or possibly a local yarn shop.  The pattern is worked all in one piece so there are no separate fronts, back and sleeves.

When it is finished, you just fold it in a unique manner and voila! you have a sweater that only needs the stitching of the shoulder to be complete.

Once the seams are sewn, add buttons, maybe an edging or a collar and it is done!

Once I mastered the pattern, it became a mindless task and I am able to complete one very quickly.  As with every new interest, once it hit my radar screen, I discovered a veritable underground of Baby Surprise Jacket knitters throughout the world who communicate through discussion lists, youtube videos, knitting websites like Ravelry.com and forums...all sharing their ideas for this pattern.

One problem I have is that in this chapter of my life, I know very few people who are expecting babies or have little ones who could use a sweater.  So, I knit for charity and donate my sweaters to various groups that give the items to mothers in need.  This latest one is going to my cousin, Dee, in Ohio who participates in such an organization.  What I love most is that as I am knitting any item, I am thinking of the recipient, so my thoughts, hopes and dreams for them, my love of them gets entwined in the stitches and becomes more than just a garment but a gift of self and a connection to a heart that I value!

I Am a Chef - Grazia's Sicilian Lasagna

In 1998 Jay fulfilled one of my greatest hopes...he took me to Sicily, birthplace of my maternal grandparents and I left a piece of my heart there.  Over the years we returned 4 times, connecting with distant cousins, visiting various locations and learning the history. I have walked the same streets as my Grandmother in Cefalù

Cefalù

and my grandfather in Ferla.

Ferla 2004

In Sicily everything is "more!"  The vistas are more lovely, the people are more authentic, the flavors are more intense, the aromas are more pungent.  So, on one visit when a "prima cugina" of my mother, Grazia, invited us to have pranzo with her family and I bit into her lasagna, I was blown away by how delicious it was.  I had never had a lasagna like this and when I got my hands on a piece of paper, I attempted to write down the ingredients I could remember: noodles, soft cheese (maybe a mozzarella?), thin meat (maybe prosciutto?), hard boiled eggs, peas, bechamel sauce, broken up tomato, greens.  When I returned home, I decided that before I made it I would send her an email through her son and ask for her recipe.  So, in my faltering Italian I explained the items I remembered and asked if he could send me his mother's recipe.  He wrote back.  Put this: noodles, soft cheese (maybe a mozzarella?), thin meat (maybe prosciutto?), hard boiled eggs, peas, bechamel sauce, broken up tomato, greens.

Lesson number one...Sicilian cooks do not write out exact measurements.  In fact in some old cookbooks I have seen an ingredient written like this:  grated cheese q.b.  I hunted furiously to find the meaning of the abbreviation "q.b."...it means "quanto basta" which translates to mean..."when it is enough."  Cooking is done by feel and by the collective memory of a people or a family.

Sicilian Lasagna

So I have continued to prepare this recipe from my memory of our pranza which means each time it is a little different but each time it is savored and enjoyed by anyone who eats it.
Here is my recipe:

Grazia's Sicilian Lasagna
1 package of no boil noodles (I get mine from Trader Joe's)
4 cups of prepared bechamel sauce
prosciutto q.b. - thinly sliced and torn into small pieces.
1 pound of mozzarella cheese shredded
frozen peas q.b. (usually about 1 1/2 cups thawed)
4 hardboiled eggs, thinly sliced
some frozen chopped spinach q.b. (maybe 1 1/2 cups)
1 16 ounce can of diced tomatoes drained
grated cheese q.b. (like Romano, Pecorino, Parmagiano)
salt and pepper
butter

Now you just layer everything, beginning with a thin film of bechamel sauce ladled over a buttered 9 X 13 baking pan. then...
layers of noodles with the various ingredients putting them in any order you want.  I usually do a layer of prosciutto, eggs and peas, followed by a layer of spinach and tomatoes, followed by another layer of prosciutto, eggs and peas etc. making at least 4 layers. 
Each layer is covered generously with bechamel sauce because the noodles will absorb the liquid, and has some shredded mozzarella on it to help it all stick together. Season the layers as you go.
End with a last layer of noodles, cover with bechamel sauce, sprinkle with mozzarella and Parmagiano cheese and dot with butter.
Cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes at 350 degrees.  Remove foil and bake an additional 15 minutes or until the lasagna is cooked though and is bubbling and golden.
Let it sit for at least 15 minutes before serving.

This is a very forgiving recipe.  You can really layer anything you want in it.  I have used roasted red peppers, basil leaves, sauteed mushrooms, added some pesto the bechamel sauce.  It is always wonderful, light and tasty.

Grazie, Grazia!

I Am A Student - Participating in Lifelong Learning

Whenever we receive applications and forms to complete, I always pause at the field marked: occupation.  Most of the time I comply with the expected..."retired."  But occasionally I write in "student."

In 2000 when Jay and I retired, we had T-shirts made that said, "Not Retirement...Re-Creation" and that was our mantra as we set out in this new chapter of our life..to explore, learn, grow in areas that had been left untapped or put on the back burner during our working years.

Retirement T-shirt

One of the first avenues we found to aid us in our quest was a Learning-in-Retirement organization called Omnilore.  There are many types of lifelong learning programs, usually under the auspices of a local college or university, but we found Omnilore to be unique in that it uses an active learning format.  The members run the show...creating their own curriculum that is offered three times a year. At this time, members sign up for the course of study that interests them and they are put into Study/Discussion Groups of 8 to16 people.  OK...so what is unique about that you might ask?  Well, the members are both the students and the teachers.  Each member selects a topic related to the group's subject to be studied and then does extensive research on the topic and, at an assigned class, teaches what has been learned during the research to the rest of the class members.

We recently received our class assignments for the upcoming Spring Trimester.  I am taking two classes this time: one class will study the Cuisine of the Mediterranean, using food historian, Clifford Wright's, book and the other will study a collection of short stories written by Californian authors about the state of California.  I already have a stack of research books to begin working on my chosen topic for the first class..."The History of the People and the Cuisine of the Island of Sicily."  50% of my Italian heritage springs from Sicily and I am drawn to its story like a duck to water.  I have been pouring through fascinating books, calling out to Jay various factoids as I read them, like..."Did you know there were over 19 occupations of Sicily by various cultures?" ...a people always occupied but never conquered!  or "Did you know that it was the Arabs who brought sugar cane and sweets to Sicily?"...ah, cassata, gelato, cannoli!

So it has been 10 years, 30 trimesters, approximately 60 courses and research projects.  I have learned about Impressionist Painting, Bach, The Italian Renaissance, Islam, the countries of Pakistan, Afghanistan, China, and India, Immigration, the Genome, Globalization, the Food Industry, Jazz, Ethics, Energy to name a few.  Can't you just imagine what a conversationalist I am at a social gathering!!  In the process I have stayed informed about the world and discovered new interests that never hit my radar screen before.  Jay and I love learning and we love teaching.  We have gone from using little index cards with our notes to full-blown PowerPoint Presentations as we share our research.  If the current research on the brain is correct, then hopefully I am giving my gray matter a work out...developing new connections, synapses.  There is a whole world out there.  There is so much to learn and explore.  Who ever said retirement was boring?

I Am a Chef - The Thanksgiving Meal

I grew up in an Italian-American family and holidays were about two things:  Family and Food.  My earliest memories of holidays are of packing the little sedan with six people and the trunk with boxes of pies and pots with tight fitting lids as we made the 2 mile drive to my paternal grandmother's house on Franklin Ave. in Kent, Ohio or the 60 miles trek to my maternal grandmother's house in Lorain, Ohio.  While the kitchen was full of women, laughter and aromas, we children were running up and down stairs, inventing games and just enjoying being with our cousins.  The only stress of the holiday was over how we were going to satisfy the expectations to be at both houses at once so both families would feel complete.

When I married and had my own family, we repeated the process packing our car with five people and the trunk with our food offerings and tried to satisfy the expectation of both sets of grandparents that their family be complete around their holiday table.  One year the father of my children had enough...basta!  This year, he announced, we are preparing our own Thanksgiving dinner so our sons have the memory of their mother cooking the turkey.  We will visit our families during the day but we will eat at home.  I spent the morning preparing the food in my tiny kitchen and when the turkey was ready to come out of the oven, called the three boys in to crowd around the stove as I opened the oven door and displayed the roaster with the crisp brown turkey cradled in the rack.  "There," I announced, "is the Thanksgiving turkey that your own mother prepared. Imprint it on your memory!"

Over the years the meals have moved from house to house, but the main pull has been to gather as many of the family as possible around the holiday table to celebrate family.  The greatest joy I have is to be involved in the preparation of the food.

I read the slick displays of the local markets and restaurants that offer to prepare your meal for you and consider the convenience of having the food delivered pipping hot to the door ready to grace the awaiting, set table.  While it is a time and energy saver, somehow it feels a bit empty to me.  For me, what is missing is the expending of love that goes into the preparation and this feeds my soul.  I began my personal investment yesterday.  I prepared the delicious brine (thank you Melinda Lee of KNX) and placed my fresh turkey in it to soak for 24 hours.  I prepared the homemade stock for my gravy. I cubed and toasted the bread for my dressing.  Today I will make the candied sweet potatoes and transfer the turkey to air dry in the refrigerator. Tomorrow morning I will dress the turkey and roast it, prepare the gravy, load up the car with my husband and the food and drive the 7 miles to my mother's home where those of the family who can, will gather around her table.

This is not a selfless action on my part.  It is very selfish.  With each step of the process I am pulled closer to my family.  I reminisce of Thanksgivings past.  I savor the images of younger versions of my loved ones and those who are gone. I remember who likes what recipes and make sure to include Grandma's Italian stuffing and to not vary the traditional sweet potatoes by adding mandarin oranges like I mistakenly did one year to the shouts of  "What have you done to the sweet potatoes!"  And tomorrow afternoon, as I place the food on the table, I will also have placed my love and I will feel complete.  I will feel connected to my past and to each of the people around the table and I will feel grateful. Being a chef at Thanksgiving is a gift to myself.  Happy Thanksgiving!

I Am a Grandmother - A Trip to the Observatory

Today is Veteran's Day...flags flying, feelings of gratitude for those who serve, no mail delivery and NO SCHOOL.  That means we were able to spend the day with our grandson, Gabriel.  We like to turn our time together into memories if we can, so today we decided to take Gabe to the Griffith Park Observatory.  He is studying the planets in his third grade class and had never been to a planetarium and we had not been there since it has re-opened.

Gabriel and Mima at the Observatory

We certainly picked the perfect day.  The heavy winds had cleaned the air and we could see all the way from the Observatory to the Pacific Ocean.  Gabe was excited to see "for the first time" the HOLLYWOOD sign.

Gabriel with the Hollywood Sign

It is never too late to have a happy childhood and the three of us wandered from exhibit to exhibit, calling to each other..."Look at this!"...seeing how much we would weigh on each of the planets, learning how the eclipses occur and what makes the tides rise and fall.  The highlight of the day was the program in the Samuel Oshen Planetarium, "Centered in the Universe."  Relaxing into our lounge type seats with eyes on the overhead ceiling to watch the fantastic full-domed video screen, we were transported through time and space to the Big Bang through a universe of galaxies to try to find our place in the cosmos.

The human mind is truly unable to hold the reality of the size of our ever-expanding universe.  We move from our little place in Los Angeles, to the earth, to the solar system, to the Milky Way, to our place on the edge of our galaxy, to the billions of other galaxies discovered by the Hubble Telescope and we find new meaning in the phrase... "It blows my mind!"  And in the midst of it all, I am this little human being so absorbed in my life, walking my neighborhood, cooking my dinner, caring about my loved ones, making plans, caught up in my issues,..it is all about ME!  How grand and how insignificant is our life.  The universe humbles us...and it should.  Somehow seeing myself so small is not a downer but rather invigorating...to seem so irrelevant yet at the same time, feel I am special and that my life has meaning.  What a miracle to be apart of all of this!

I had a friend who no longer graces this earth who was fascinated by the cosmos.  Everyday he would send out the Astronomy Picture of the Day from the NASA website to his friends.  I thought of Myron today and how he would have loved this.

On the way out we stopped at the Gift shop and Gabe chose a pair of binoculars, like his Grandpa Jay's, for his souvenir so he can check out the stars at night.  "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight..." Hopefully he will remember that the star he is wishing on is just one in a gazillion and that he is part of this wonder of our universe.

Checking out his new binoculars.

I Am a Gardener - My Winter Orto (Vegetable Garden)

"Ouch"....when I literally rolled out of bed this morning, my aching hamstring muscles reminded me that I had spend a good part of yesterday squatting in the yard, preparing the soil and planting some winter vegetables.  One of the glories of living in southern California's Mediterranean climate is that I can garden year-round.  So, the autumn months feel somewhat like springtime...the beginning of a new growing season.

Winter vegetables mean green...swiss chard, peas, fava beans, lettuces, kale, spinach, leeks.  I grew up with a love of the activity of gardening but in the past five years I have learned much about the art of gardening.  Initially, I approached my garden like I approached cleaning my house.  Every weed that popped up was immediately plucked, a plant passed its prime and going to seed was immediately cut down and replaced with a new, vigorous one and any debris was immediately picked up so the garden looked neat and tidy.  In time, I have learned to relax a bit and to copy nature.  Jay reminds me that a weed is merely a plant I have not yet learned to love.  If I quickly pull any sprouting green that I have not planted I could be removing the gifts of nature...the volunteer plants that are sprouting from the previous plants I now let go to seed.  Yesterday as I worked some of our homemade compost into the soil I noticed some cilantro beginning to sprout, some signs of the red leaf lettuce that grew last season, some baby sweetpea seedlings from dropped seedpods and some slender leek shoots...all gifts from last year's plants.

Cilantro sprouting!

My friend reminds me that if you look at nature, fallen leaves carpet the ground providing a natural mulch that retains moisture and provides a friendly environment for the beneficial insects you want near your plants.  So now I leave them there and remind myself..."That is why they are called leaves!"

Both sets of my Italian immigrant grandparents had their own "orto" - vegetable garden.  Each of my cousins in Sicily has his orto on a plot of land outside the village. 

Salvatore and Gaetano at their orto - Ferla 2007

So gardening is in my genes and I garden because it gives me pleasure.  I also garden because raising our own vegetables is one of the ways that we move toward more self-sustainability, enjoy the seasonality of foods, and relish the natural flavors and nutritional benefits of the vegetables.  A gift of being retired is that you are liberated from the demands of a paying job and can invest your time in learning about subjects that draw your interest.  Growing foods draws my interest and reading wonderful books like Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" awakened in me the desire to get my hands dirty and live more sustainably.  Researching the energy crisis and peak oil draws Jay's interest and causes him to want to reduce dependence on fossil fuels.  Together we can see that being less dependent on store-provided, energy intensive food makes sense for us and for the environment.  Little by little all the soil around our home is becoming edible landscaping with vegetables interspersed with flowering plants.

Front Terrace - July 2010 - Chard, basil, tomato, leeks going to seed!

A side benefit is that as Jay sees me relaxing and respecting the life cycle of our plants, seeing beauty and purpose in them beyond their prime, he believes that may translate into my continuing to relish him in the autumn of our years. :-) 

I Am a Daughter - Remembering Archie

Archie - circa 1970

Archie Rinaldi...everyone's friend, full of energy, mischievous, handsome, dancer, Boy Scout Leader, gardener, reader, daredevil, lover of sports, community volunteer...my father.  Born of Italian immigrant parents, Archie (Ezio) grew up in Kent, Ohio.  Today he would probably be called hyper-active, but in the 1920's he was just "cattivo" (naughty). A high school drop-out, he returned to Roosevelt High School to complete his diploma after meeting my mother, sitting in a classroom sporting his pencil-thin mustache, with much younger students...setting an example of the value of an education.  His life is peppered with stories of his antics, his activities, his friends and his generous deeds.

Archie circa 1938

Today would have been my dad's 95th birthday.  But this man, so fully alive, was cut down in his prime by that insidious condition, early-onset Alzheimer's.  He was 67 years old when he died, but we lost the man he was 8 years earlier when his spirit, memory, and ability to interact with the world was erased by this disease.

Patricia & Archie - circa 1974

Yet it is through my dad that I have come to believe that a person's spirit lives on in the memories we carry.  I can never hear big band swing music or an Italian polka without remembering the feel of his arms as he taught me to dance, his blue eyes dancing as well as his feet.  I can never put a piece of popcorn in my mouth without remembering my dad reaching into his popcorn bowl with one hand, holding a paperback western novel in the other while sitting in his recliner watching a baseball game on television.   I can never pick a tomato from the vine without remembering my dad picking a sun-warmed tomato, washing it off with the garden hose and holding it out to me to take a taste.

I can never pass a Red Cross emblem without remembering my dad setting up the Blood Mobiles at the church and getting his picture in the paper for donating his 100th pint of blood.  I can never taste honey without remembering my dad bringing home, again, a "new friend," a newly-arrived Hungarian refugee who was trying to make friends for his family and who often gifted us with the raw honey from his beehive.  These are just a few of the times when I am filled with my father's spirit and each memory is bittersweet because it comes with the tremendous sense of loss and longing to see him just one more time.

They don't know what causes Alzheimer's and they don't know how to cure it.  We do not think my Dad's condition was genetic.  We think it was a childhood accident that pre-disposed him to develop Alzheimer's.  When he was a young boy...imp that he was...he climbed a high-tension pole, was electrocuted, fell many feet to the ground, sustained a head injury and severe burn, was bed-ridden for months and lived to tell about it.  Last week I heard Maria Shriver talk about her involvement in the Alzhiemer's Project and her new report, just released.  Since her father's diagnosis in 2003 she has been deeply involved in raising awareness and funding for Alzheimer's care and research.  I applaud her efforts.

             Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
              ~From a headstone in Ireland
                                                              Happy Birthday, Dad!

I Am a Woman - Attending the Women's Conference 2010

I never burned my bra.  By just a few years, I missed the Woodstock Generation.  I was born into an Italian-American-Catholic family and who I was, was very much defined by my roles...first as daughter and sister and then, after I married in 1963, as wife, then mother.  I was always conscientious and sought my worth by fulfilling those roles to the best of my ability.  In 1972 I was the mother of three little boys.

1971 with boys

I cooked a well-balanced dinner each night, often with homemade bread.  I sewed my own clothes, even making Easter sport coats for my sons and my own curtains and drapes.  I took baked items to my parents and friends and even learned to decorate cakes for special family celebrations.  I was a good daughter, wife, mother and happy with my life...yet inside I began to wonder if there might be more to me as an individual.

This was also the year that Australian singer, Helen Reddy, achieved fame with her #1 single hit..."I Am Woman."



At the time I remember how much a loved this song and as I sang along...."if I had to, I can do anything...I am strong, I am invincible...I am WOMAN!" I would feel a sense of empowerment rising within me that had nothing to do with any of my roles...just from my essence as a woman. At the time, I thought this song was strident, revolutionary...such a strong statement! Yet, as I listen to it now, all I hear is happiness and joy!

Before my retirement, I worked at an aerospace company that also empowered me.  In a male-dominated world, I was able to have a fulfilling career with many opportunities for growth.  Each year, at the company's expense, I was able to attend the Women's Conference sponsored by the current First Lady of the State of California.  Often I was also able to take other women on my staff with me for a day of inspiration and introspection... a wonderful perk for a working woman.  When you are out of the workplace, it is a bit harder to acquire tickets so when I was given an offer by a friend to purchase tickets, I immediately bought two...one for me and one for my daughter-in-love, Milli.

Yesterday was the second time Milli and I attended the conference together.  We spent the entire day in the company of 15,000 other women, listening to the voices and the stories of such inspirational women as Chief Justices Sandra Day O'Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsberg, First Lady Michelle Obama, "Second" Lady Dr. Jill Biden, former First Lady Laura Bush, sensitive poet Mary Oliver, and the grand dame of the entire day, First Lady of California and host of the event, magnificent Maria Schriver. We heard the voices of other women who have led major companies, women who have overcome tremendous personal obstacles, faced their fears and moved onward, women who have reached out to make a dramatic difference in their little corner of the world, women who shared, as only women seemed to be able to do...woman to woman...talking from the heart with a candor and emotion that is raw and palpable. We were touched, inspired, motivated, empowered and most of all in awe of the wonderful gift we each possessed to express the beauty of our individual selves as, yes, daughters, wives, mothers, friends, but all springing from the core essence of who we are...woman!  On the way home Milli and I talked a mile a minute...about what had impressed us, what we were feeling, and what our own personal hopes and dreams are...we shared, not as mother and daughter but as two women, heart to heart.  What a gift!    

Milli and Me!

If I had to, I can do anything...I am stong, I am invincible, I am WOMAN....

I Am a Traveler - On the Road with Red Meat

Ten glorious days spent on our road trip up and down the coast from Los Angeles to Napa, CA.  What creates our memories:

Images of rolling hillsides dotted with the distinctive California Oaks.

Stretches of pristine blue Pacific coastline...shared with bikers and surfers.

Smelling the whiffs of pungent garlic aroma as we pass by Gilroy, CA.

Rows of grapevines creating a sea of parallel lines covering rolling hills.

Tasting sips of the California liquid fruit of the vine at various wineries.

Migrant workers hunched over acres of agriculture to provide us with products from the California salad bowl.

Watching the display of the gas and battery dance on the dashboard of our rented Prius.

Listening to the upbeat sounds of the new Red Meat CD filling the car.

Jay and I have always enjoyed music but when we were introduced to Honky-Tonk Country music a number of years ago by my cousin, Michael Montalto, who plays the electric guitar with the Bay Area band, Red Meat, we were hooked.  Once a year the band comes south to perform at the Cinema Bar in Culver City and we are there, front and center, to enjoy some of the happiest music on the planet.  For this trip we took their latest CD "Red Meat LIVE at the World's Smallest Honky Tonk" and we played it up and down the state.  Each of the band members added to the experience.  Smelly Kelly had us laughing and shaking our heads at his clever and sometimes outrageous banter with Jill and the audience as he finessed lyrics like "Go on home Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson misses you!"  Jill Olson caused us to take a detour and actually drive through King City and it gave us a whole new perspective on her song, "Queen of King City."  Scott Young with his fantastic lyrics, compositions, vocals and instrumentation...that trombone made us want to stand up and shout...caused us to, again, marvel at his talent.  And my personal favorite, Michael, with his magical fingers on the guitar strings, his riffs, and his composition "Moonrock"...well, it was hard to sit still in the car while he plays; you just want to move!  And holding all of it together, corralling all of them with his honky-tonk beat, is drummer, Les James.

These days, California often makes headlines and you only have to pick up the newspaper and read to see some of the "tarnish on the Golden State" as Smelly sings....but I have to say that driving that stretch of the Central Coast and through the Napa and Sonoma Valleys, we fell in love with California all over again.

I Am an Adventurer - Trying Out a Hybrid Car

We have scheduled all of this year's travel for the fall months and though the suitcase is still warm from our trip to Europe, we are packing to leave tomorrow morning for a road trip to Northern California.  As we mature, we have gained a greater appreciation for vintage items and our cars, both 1993 models, fall into that category and are not reliable enough for a long jaunt.  So seeing this as a great opportunity to try out some new technology, we have rented a hybrid, a Toyota Prius, for the trip.

Jay with rental Prius

Jay is a scholar, scientist, economist and has spent the last few years immersed in the study of the energy crisis; peak oil, sustainability, carbon-footprint are words that float around our house.  Here was a chance to put our money where his mouth is and see how we might like to drive a more energy-efficient automobile.  After a trip to the local Toyota dealer to test drive a model and find out how to turn on the windshield wipers, we picked up our rental car from Enterprise and have a day to become comfortable with it before we set out.

Remember the days when you simply took the key, slid it into the keyhole, turned gently to the right, placed your foot on the accelerator and then eased forward?  Well, no more.  We spent much of the day becoming acquainted with the Prius...first watching a carefully-crafted manufacturer's DVD, then sitting in the front seat, manual open in the lap, hunting for the bells and whistles.

Prius Dashboard

We are eager to experience this new car.  At the same time we are reminded of how quickly technology is developing and how easily it is to be left behind in the dust.  There is a sense of trepidation and disorientation as we take these first steps.  Is the car really on?  I don't hear anything! What was that double beep?  Why is that icon flashing? Is if off now?  We felt these same feelings when we bought our HD television, our little Netbook, our Kindles.  Yet each time we master a new skill or figure out a new piece of equipment we feel a bit smarter, a bit energized and yes, a bit "younger!"

I am reminded of something Eleanor Roosevelt said..."Life was meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his (her) back on life."
Now about those smart phones...

I Am a Reader - Gifts in the Mail

I cannot remember a time when I could not read.  Some of my earliest memories are of standing before the children's librarian at the Kent Free Library and giving my oral book report so I could get another book added to my list of books in the summer reading program.  Book have transported me, informed me, entertained me, educated me, soothed me.  I ascribe to the saying..."So many books, so little time!"  Jay is also a book lover and the books accumulate in stacks in corners of our house, multiplying like rabbits!  Most of the books I read still come from my public library, but now I browse the inventory through the online catalog rather than strolling through the stacks, requesting books electronically and picking them up at my local branch when they arrive for me.  However, I also have another way of obtaining books that always feels like Christmas.

A couple of years ago a friend introduced me to the website, Librarything.com.  I was immediately hooked because it gave me a place to catalog the books I had read on a virtual bookshelf, to read reviews of new books and to get recommendations from others about interesting books they have read.  It also introduced me to the Early Reviewers Giveaway Program.  Each month the website lists a number of Advanced Reader Copy (ARC) books available for members who would like to read a new book and then post a review of it on the website.  I could do this!  I have been giving book reports since I was a child in Kent.  So in the months when I am lucky enough to win an ARC, a free book arrives in my mailbox. "Merry Christmas!"

Last month I received the book, City of Tranquil Light by Bo Caldwell.

I have always been drawn to books about China, especially those told from a cultural perspective, so I was pleased.  The setting is the North China Plain in the early 20^th century.  The main characters are Will Kiehn and his wife, Katherine, both Mennonite missionaries who met and married while on mission in China.  The story is a narration of their experiences for 27 years ministering to the people of the area during a time of change and upheaval.

The author based the novel on journals that she had of her own grandparents and she uses the journal approach in telling her story.  The main narrator is Will and his story is told from a backward glance perspective…recounting the events, as an elderly man, that they had experienced in the past.  But we also hear from Katherine, her entries being told in the present tense, as commentary that fleshes out the events in real time.  What comes across is a gentle story of love, devotion and commitment, based in a very realistic awareness of life’s hardships and the human condition.  This is not a “sappy” nor “cloying” recounting.  It is more a account of an honest effort to practice what they preach in always trying to do all they can for the good of the people out of love. The result is a life of hardship, of living in poverty-stricken China and experiencing the loss of a child, infused with the satisfaction of a life of meaning from doing what they can to help others.  It does not devolve into a preachy novel, but is told simply and with sincerity.  The accounts of the events in China are very realistically portrayed and I learned much from the book.  I highly recommend it.  

The best thing about ARCs is that when I am finished reading it, since it was a gift to me, I can pass it on to someone else..."Merry Christmas!"

I Am an American - Returning from our Trip to Europe

We have returned from a very enjoyable two week trip to The Netherlands and Germany and as I attempt to get my juices flowing again for the blog I am trying to decide what was the most significant thing about this trip.  We had new experiences, met new people, tried new foods, heard new languages and yet what keeps popping into my head as I think is..."coming home" and the huge sense of gratitude I felt that I am a citizen of the United States.

I think one value of foreign travel is that you can look back on the distant shore you have left and gain a new perspective of "home."  I want to be an informed person and since my husband dissects the three newspapers we still have delivered to our house, I feel compelled to try to keep pace with him by reading the news.  It is easy to become cynical, to see only the warts on our red, white and blue.  There IS bad news...the economy, the financial debacle, the inability of our elected legislators to work together for the good of the nation and to resolve issues, the high unemployment...and on and on.  Yet despite all this negativity, when looked at it as a whole, we who grace these shores live in a land that continues to offer freedom, to place a value on the individual and to present an environment of choice and multiple options for its people...elements that are envied and longed for by others.

The image that comes to my mind is of an incident that occurred when we were in the lovely Romantic Rhine River village of Bacharach.  It was the day before we were to return home and we wanted to walk the streets of the lovely town that has a medieval feel with winding narrow streets, to walk atop the remains of the town wall, and to hike as far as we could up to the castle.  About halfway to the castle we stopped at a stone platform with low stone wall that looked out over the neighboring vineyards. 

Patricia and Jay in Bacharach

A young man, about 20 years old, approached us holding out his camera and gestured with the question, "Would we take a picture of him and his girlfriend?"  We did and then we began to talk to them.  They were eager to practice their English and did not want to move on.  So, we discovered that they were from East Germany.  They were students, he of Automotive Engineering and she of Business Management of Health Systems.  They did not remember the coming down of the Berlin Wall but they remembered the hard times as Eastern Germany tried to get on its feet.  Life is better for them now but it is not perfect. 

Jay talking to the young couple.

When they asked where lived and heard our response of the United States, the state of California, the only word to describe the look on their face was "hunger."  They had never been to the US but they said with deep emotion..."To go to the United States is our highest dream."

Europe is a wonderful place to visit.  It is full of history and lessons of the struggle to survive through some difficult eras.  It gifts visitors with its art, its landscape, its music and literature.  As descendants of immigrants it is also our heritage.  But what we have in the United States is the gift of possibility. There is always the opportunity to reinvent yourself, to begin anew, to succeed through your own efforts and capabilities. We possess an energy, an optimistic can-do philosophy that will continue to serve us well.  I am so proud to be an American and so grateful to be home.

I Am a Traveler - Off to Northern Europe

     A while ago I read a CNN report that said "experiences" make people happier than possessions because they create memories that remain with you long after the event has occurred.  Experiences connect you to people and create a sense of being alive.  Maybe that is why we always look forward to an opportunity to experience a new place through travel.

     In a couple of days we will take off, via British Airways, for a short trip to Northern Europe.  School is back in session so the sites should not be as crowded; we are into the shoulder month of summer so the climate should be less intense.

     We have arranged our trip through Untours, an organization that provides apartment rentals in neighborhood locations, local transportation and a local support contact. Other than that we will be independent travelers.  Untours was founded by Hal Taussig who believed that Americans would benefit from experiencing the cultures of other countries by living up close and personal with the people. Almost all of their profits go to the Untours Foundation, whose motto is "a hand UP not a hand Out," which provides low interest loans to people and businesses throughout the world, helping create work, housing and fair trade.  They have Untour destinations in various countries.  Italy is always the destination of my heart, but Jay has convinced me that there is actually more to the world than Italy (really??) and we should venture forth.  This time we are visiting two countries that are new to us...spending 1 week in Leiden, Holland, a university town outside of Amsterdam, and a second week in St. Goar, Germany on the Rhine River.

So now I am in the throes of last minute details:
Packing:
We have always traveled "light" but this time we are attempting to have only carry-on luggage.  Two weeks of essentials contained in one size-specific rolling suitcase.  We will navigating on and off trains and will need to be agile!  We have decorated our suitcases so they are distinctive and easy to identify...and who would wander off with one of these by mistake?

Suitcases

Closing up the house:
Set up the sprinkler syster...check, stop the newspapers and mail...check, notify neighbors to retrieve any newspapers and mail that is still delivered...check, empty the refrigerator...check, pay bills...check.  We travel often enough that this aspect is a matter of routine.


Setting up Emergency Information:
This last task is always sobering for me.  I go through the Emergency Folder that is to be opened by my son "only in case something happens to us while we are gone."  This is always a reminder to me that this life is temporary and someday will end.  Have I told everyone I love how much I appreciate them in my life?  Do I have any "unfinished business" to resolve?  This last task usually results in a flurry of phone calls to my sons, who listen patiently, probably rolling their eyes in the process, and responding with, "I love you too, Mom...have a great trip!"
Auf Wiedersehen!