I Am A Daughter - Remembering Baseball

This morning Jay and I were talking about the outcome of last night's Game 6 of the World Series. We are not huge sports fans unless Michael gets us tickets to the Kings' Hockey games or unless Gabriel is playing one of his sports. But we both have memories of growing up with baseball.  I was a Cleveland Indian fan as a child, growing up in Kent, OH.  Every summer the local kids would attend a "Knothole Club" game.

We would gather at Kent's train station, and supervised by the adults, take the train to Cleveland marching in a parade to the Stadium where for 25 cents we got tickets to sit in the outfield and cheer such players as Al Rosen and Larry Doby.

Baseball was also very present in my house because my dad was an official baseball umpire.  I am sure he enjoyed this role but he actually umpired local baseball teams as a source of revenue.  I would go with him to some games and get very incensed when the crowd would yell at him..."Hey, ump, are you blind!" or "Kill the umpire!" when a call didn't go their way.  I wanted to shout back protectively,..."He is a good man and he is doing the best he can!"

This train of thought reminds me of how hard my father worked.  He had a day job at Gougler's Machine Shop where he had worked his way up to a supervisory position.  But most of the time, he came home from work and changed...to go to work...at his second job.  As well as umpiring, he also sold life insurance in the days when the insurance agent went to the homes of clients to collect their monthly premiums.  I am still using sewing needles that were give-aways for National Life Insurance.  When we moved to California, he continued with second jobs, working evenings selling shoes at Thom McAn's shoe stores.  My father was not afraid of work and he did whatever he could to provide for his family.

We never considered ourselves poor.  Money was always tight and as a result I and my brothers knew that if we ever wanted something extra, we would have to earn the money to obtain it because there was just no "extra" money.  From the of age 12 I baby-sat with neighborhood children for 25 cents an hour.  In the 8th grade, my father co-signed with me to purchase a Hi-Fi record player on the installment plan, making $5 a month payments until it was paid off.  We always had "summer jobs" and I paid for my own books all during high school.  My brothers and I each saved to buy our first cars. That was the way life was in the 1950's. We were no different from most of our friends. People worked hard for what they had and they cared for it and appreciated it. As adults, we continue to have a value for the "hard-earned" dollar and make financial decisions only after giving it much thought.  We know the difference between want and need.

Reminiscing like this makes me feel old.  I read yesterday that "Living in the past is the temptation and burden of aging." (Phyllis Theroux)  But sometimes it is also a gift...to remember the journey on your road to becoming and to view with appreciation the people and factors that helped to influence you.

Congratulations to the St. Louis Cardinals...and let's see what Game 7 brings!

I Am A Reader - Sicilian Odyssey

When Jay and I married, almost 13 years ago, we took a tour of Sicily and Southern Italy for our honeymoon. It was my first time to Sicily, the ancestral home of my mother's family. At the time, I knew very little about the island beyond a city of departure for immigrants (Palermo) and a volcano that still erupted (Mt. Etna). I had no idea what the future held for me regarding this land of my genes.  That I would find cousins who would invade my life and my heart. That I would take my mother, not once, but TWICE, to visit.  That I would stay for a week in an apartment on the very street in the town of Cefalù where my grandmother was born.

Cefalù, provincia di Palermo

Via  Bordonaro, Cefalù

Mom on the balcony of the apartment

That I would learn the basics of the Italian language, visit the spectacular Greek ruins, study the fascinating history, delight in the traditional Sicilian recipes, pick olives from Sicilian olive trees in my cousin's olive grove in Ferla...

that I would become in my very soul a daughter of Sicily.

So naturally, I was eager to read the travel memoir, "Sicilian Odyssey" by Francine Prose, when I spotted it in my local library.

The author, with her husband, set out on a month-long trip to Sicily, just after the attack on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.  She says they went "partly to discover what this island has learned and can teach us about the triumph of beauty over violence, of life over death."  I found myself captivated by the book.  Prose has a unique writing style that is crisp, clear and at times, painfully honest.  I didn't always want to read her comments about what she saw because it challenged my "romantic, through rose-colored glasses" memories I often carry with me of my visits to Sicily.  She described places and scenes that I have seen myself but she saw things that escaped my eye.  She says she went determined to see the real Sicily and glimpse what may lie beneath the obvious.  At times, what she saw was struggle, hardship, pain.  She saw many contradictions, the beauty of the Madonie Mountains and the blight of towns like Gerci Siculo.  She weaves the history of the island with present day events, often referring to various legends and myths linked with Sicily.  Her pages of the wonderful Roman mosaics at Piazza Armerina gives not just a description of the mosaics themselves but a detailed account of the owner of the house and what was transpiring in history at that time.  The same is true of her description of the ruins in Siracusa, the town of Noto, the ruins of Segesta and Selinunte, the unique town of Erice...all those wonderful locales that I treasure in my memory.  She refers to the end of the feudal system and the Sicilian nobility by writing about the movie, "The Leopard" and how it relates to the real history and decline of the old social order.  She delves into the cuisine, visiting Gangivecchio and the Tornabene family, the architecture, the art.  She has a fantastic description of Caravagggio's painting "The Burial of St. Lucy" that makes me want to make a special trip to see it.  And to embellish it, she tells the story of the painter's life, problems, and the mystery surrounding his death, pulling together tid-bits and details of information making for a captivating story.

Francine Prose is not of Italian descent.  In fact, she says in the book that she would like to be reborn as an Italian in general and a Sicilian "man" in particular.

Prose has written 16 novels.  This is her first travel book.  At times I could sense that she was observing what she saw as an outsider, not a daughter of Sicily.  But in all, I think she does portray a unique portrait of Sicily, one that captures the island's ever changing moods, from exuberance to melancholy.  The book is intense at times, like the island is intense...with its sun, sirocco winds, flavors, emotions, colors, music.  Most of all she presents a picture of Sicily as the embodiment of humanity's will to survive.

This book is my selection for the month of October in the "Italy in Books Reading Challenge" hosted by Book After Book blog. 

I Am A Linguist - The Italian Language

When Jay and I retired in 2000 a big item on my "bucket list" was to learn another language. I had taken three years of French in high school and I was lucky to know some French words to use in crossword puzzles. My language of choice was Italian.  When we decided to travel to Italy, and specifically to Sicily, to meet some distant cousins I had "unearthed" while venturing into genealogy I had the real incentive to take this desire seriously.  We began by taking some Adult Education classes at local colleges. Our first class was at Santa Monica College with Romualdo Scherillo.

Romualdo Scherillo

Professore Scherillo was a Neapolitan who emigrated to Los Angeles many years ago but he sounded as if he had just stepped off the boat. Like a stand-up comic, he entertained us with gesture and humor as he taught us not only the language but the "Italian way," the culture we would encounter when we visited his homeland.  As I sat in the class, I realized that all of this sounded so familiar to me and had a sense of homecoming.

Growing up in Ohio, having regular contact with immigrant grandparents and great-grandparents, I was cocooned in "the Italian way."  Every holiday was spent with a houseful of relatives and I grew up with cousins who were as close as siblings.

Easter in Lorain, OH with cousins ~ 1953

I never realized it was any different from what other kids were experiencing.  And...I never realized that words we used for everyday things were not the words that other Americani children used in their homes.  Deep in my cells, I had the beginnings of this foreign language and I didn't even know it.


I thought everyone approached their great-grandparents as I did.  Quietly and respectfully walking to them, silently practicing the words "Si benedica" in my head and then saying them and hearing the reply, "Dio ti benedici."  I didn't know I was conducting an ancient custom, asking God's blessing on them and they, placing their hands on my head replying, "God bless you."

Great-Grandparents John & Frances Rosso at Grandfather's, Fred Montalto, birthday

I learned to count in Italian by listening to my father and uncles gathered in the backyard after a holiday meal, playing Morra...a game where they throw out fingers and shout out the number of the total they think will result.

Mealtimes were important with everyone around the table.  I thought every father asked his children to pass the bread by saying "dammi il pane!"  When my mother would serve something for dinner that did not look appealing to me, I would never say anything because we were to eat what was put before us. If my face registered some distaste for the food on the plate, my mother would scold me and say be grateful, and then say something like...don't you "schifare" meaning to act disgusted by it.

With cousins in Kent, OH - 1953 - Mom at stove, pasta pot in background!

I thought everyone took a piece of bread and 'zuppare....soaked up the sauce left on the plate.  And I thought everyone announced to the world... "He made a porco!"...when a younger brother passed gas!  And if I was impatient wanting my parents' attention right now, I was told..."aspetta!" ...wait. One of my first nicknames was bestowed on me by my Grandma Montalto who called me "chiacchierona" (chatterbox) because I was always talking. If I was talking too much or arguing, I was told..."sta zit" (an Italian shut-up!)

Only now, as an adult learning the equivalent of the "Queen's English," as I study formal Italian...do I see how my life was always peppered with the language.  Yes, some was dialect, and some was like pidgin...an Italian-American slang and some was traditional.  Now my soul seems to yearn for the comfort and joy that fills me when I hear it spoken in foreign films or Italian music. There is often a depth of meaning that cannot be translated.  Telling Gabriel "Sogni d'oro" (Golden dreams) when he goes to bed says more than "sweet dreams." Just saying the words..."ti voglio bene" (the equivalent of "I love you" really meaning "I want for you EVERYTHING good.") makes my eyes tear.

I am not fluent in the language.  I do best when I read it.  Second best when I write it. But I am rather hopeless when I listening to it being spoken. My ears just can't keep up. But I continue to work at it. I get most of my practice through email with cousins in Sicily and I look forward to receiving their messages.

One of my favorite websites for learning Italian is Becoming Italian Word by Word. Dianne Hales, author of La Bella Lingua, shares little lessons about the Italian Way of Life complete with colloquial phrases.  At her website she has a pdf with 10 Reasons to Fall In Love with Italian.  I love it!

To all my friends...to my family...I say from the bottom of my heart..."Ti voglio bene."

I Am a Participant in Life - Paying Attention

As I sit here trying to capture what has given my life meaning over the past four days, I realize I have experienced highs and lows, periods of glorious delight and moments of deep sorrow, I have felt connected and I have felt alone...in a nutshell "Life has been in session." 

A couple of days ago we joined some friends, Al and Marilyn, for a traditional German lunch at the local Alpine Village.

Al, an immigrant from Germany when he was a teenager, revels in his native food and I love to hear him say the names of the various dishes. 

After eating, we shopped in the German market and took home a smoked ham hock, some German tilset cheese and...(whisper) an apple strudel still hot from the bakery oven.  I felt connected to these dear friends and enjoyed the outing with Jay.

Another day, I took my mother to her audiologist, to get her new ear molds that should hold her hearing aides tighter in her ear and improve her reception of the sound around her.  I listened as she told Dr. Sunni McBride of her frustration as she tries to hear on the phone or watch TV and how isolated she feels when she cannot enter into conversations around her because she cannot understand what is being said. My heart aches as I watch my mother, always a vibrant, active woman, experience her life shrinking.   I appreciated the time Dr. McBride took patiently instruct her on how to best use her devices. Yet, I feel powerless.

Later that evening, there was a knock at the door and Spencer, the 12 year old who lives across the street from us was there with his mom, Felicia.  "We need your help!" they said, as we opened the door.  "Can you help Spencer knot his tie?  He is going to his first Cotillion and his dad, knowing he would not be home now, showed him last night...but he forgot!"  We remember when Spencer was born...How lucky that we got to share in one of Spencer's milestones moments..

Spencer and Jay on Cotillion Night!

Saturday afternoon, we attended Gabriel's hockey game and cheered as he performed with his team, the "gold" Jr. Kings...Squirt division!  While he didn't top last week's game when he got a hat-trick...scored 3 goals...he did get an assist on one goal and he played well and hard.  It has been a joy to see him improve his skill year after year, season after season. I smile to myself when he does something significant on the ice and his little head whips around immediately to where we are sitting to see if we saw what he just did.  And we raise our hands with "thumbs up" to him.  He, too, is growing up so fast, and we take advantage of every chance we can to share in his life.

Then,  Jay and I met my brother, Fred and his wife, Sharon, at the Healthcare Partners building in Torrance to begin a Weight Management class.  We both want to shed a few pounds (goal weights are classified information) and we have embarked on an 8 week journey of calorie counting (ugh), water drinking, and exercise. Fred is the poster child for the success of the program, having already been through the program once and he is "looking good!"  I appreciated that they were taking the course again to share the experience with us and while I resent having to discipline my eating, my savory sauces, my pastas, my wine, I do want to be as healthy as possible. 

Which brings me to the sorrow...last night a very dear friend died, four months after being told he had, unbeknowst to him, stage 4 cancer.  He was 85 years young.  He had a vibrant, productive life...a contributor to the vast knowledge of those around him with his succinct research and pithy analysis of science, government, you name it!  He did not want to die.  Do any of us?  We will truly miss him.

George Clark Sr. - a scientist, a scholar, a friend

So, looking back over the days, I see that while life is in session...things happen beyond my control...it is what it is... that buried in the "stuff" of the things that occur is a pulse...a life force. And even the difficult times can remind me that I am not alone but am connected to others as we navigate this journey.  A wise friend, Fr. Greg Boyle, in one of his Thoughts for the Day said to "Pay attention, so you can hear the sound of life happening."  I try to remember to pay attention and when I do, it brings me joy and it brings me solace.

I Am a Knitter - My "Works in Progress"

The blogosphere is an entity unto itself.  Since I have been writing my blog, I find myself visiting other blogs that cater to my interests and it is fascinating to watch the trends that develop.  I love to read so I go to blogs that feature book reviews. Here readers challenge themselves and others to do various things like read books of certain themes or a specific number of books in a year.  I love to cook so I go to blogs that feature recipes and find myself reading about themes like "Meatless Mondays."  I love to garden so I go to blogs that feature gardening and watch various bloggers weekly list the fruits (or vegetables) of their labors in their "Monday Morning Harvests." 

And...I love to knit so I go to blogs that feature knitting patterns and techniques and I discovered "WIPs Wednesdays."  WIP is an acronym for Works in Progress.  I love the idea. In years past, I have done one knitting project at a time.  When it was finished I felt a sense of accomplishment, patted myself on the back, and looked for the next project to begin.  The item was not given recognition until it was DONE and the "work in progress" was just a reminder that I had better get working on it.  But once the knitting bug has truly infected your being, you can become a victim of a condition called "start-itis" and find that you have several projects sitting in various stages of completion, some languishing, on different sets of needles. 

On WIPs Wednesdays, knitters pay homage to their works in progress...giving them the recognition they are due as they are progressing and maybe getting a nudge in the direction of completion.

I have three WIPs at the current time:

One is something I am making for myself.  I had the huge cone of white cotton knitting yarn left over from a project a few years ago. When I stumbled upon the picture of this Patchwork Vest on the Lion Brand Yarn website I decided it would be a perfect way to use this yarn.  I have the back and two sides done and I have woven in the shoulders. All I have left to do is pick up the stitches around the sleeves and border and knit in the border with button holes and seam the sides!

The second item is a pair of Mitt Envy fingerless gloves that I am making for a Christmas gift.  I have already made 4 pair of these and I am proud of myself because I have learned to use the Magic Loop method for knitting something small in the round.  Trying to use sets of double point needles to do this makes me feel like I am wrestling a procupine, so I like the Magic Loop Method.

The third item is also a gift...the recipient must remain nameless at this time, but it is a hat and scarf set being knit in a double diamond pattern and in a Berroco yarn that makes you want to just fall into it and sleep.

Lastly, I have this skein for yarn that is staring at me...waiting to be cast on to some needles for another colorful Baby Surprise Jacket for some yet unknown infant.
 

I did finish a project in time for my daughter-in-love's birthday.  Here is a picture of Milli modeling the finished project...the Shalom Sweater.

Knitting is a hobby that adds much to my life...it is meditative helping me unwind and get focused on just the yarn in my hands...emptying my mind of the worries I might tend to mull over.  It keeps my hands busy as Jay and I watch TV in the evening so I don't reach for a snack.  It provides a connection between me and the person who will receive the item, with a little love wrapped into every stitch.  And it teaches me to find value and satisfaction in the process of knitting the item as well as in the finished product.

I Am a Tourist - Taking a Staycation

"Weather means more when you have a garden.  There's nothing like listening to a shower and thinking how it is soaking in around your green beans."
I read this quote by Marcelene Cox on a gardening blog  and I think of it whenever it rains. This past week we were treated to one and a half days of rain.  I say treat because it is always a welcomed surprise to hear the gently patter of raindrops on the roof of the porch to look out the window at the raindrops dancing on the deck. 

The parched soils seems to lap it up and when I go outside, I can almost feel the skin on my face sucking in the moisture. I took advantage of the welcoming soil to plant my snap peas around my bamboo trellis.

Then, when the rain passed and the sun filled the clear blue sky, Jay and I looked at each other and said..."Let's go someplace!"  Since we live in Southern California, the destination of so many who travel thousands of miles to get here, we are never at a loss for an interesting place to explore on a pleasant afternoon.

We headed north...along Lincoln Blvd. until we reached the area of Venice (California not Italy, sigh!) There is an interesting street that runs through Venice called Abbot Kinney so we parked the car and began to walk.  Things look different from the sidewalk than from the window of a car. We walked past a restaurant we had heard about, Lilly's...which features French cuisine. Nice menu and has a welcoming patio in the back where you sip mimosas and enjoy a weekend brunch of quiche. 

Then tucked along the side of the restaurant we found a little walkway that took us to a hidden Sculpture Garden nursery.  Further along the we passed some mural art on the buildings.

and eventually found ourselves in a lovely tree covered walkway that seemed to be heading west.

We weren't surprised when it ended at the beach...but not just any beach...Venice Beach, the one location that helps Southern California earn its reputation for "diversity!" 

Who are these people?  There is the aging hippy selling his surfboard art. 

The T-shirt and sun shades vendors.  Who buys this stuff? 

The tattoo parlor complete with a menacing guard dog. 

There is something for everyone...Curious about what life has in store for you?  Stop at the local Palm and Tarot Card shop for a reading. 

Want an expressive outlet...join the impromptu drum circle.

While we saw few people with whom we might want to share a glass of wine, we did comment that most appeared happy and they were having fun.  There was an electricity in the air and everyone seemed glad to be there, even if some paid thousands of dollars for air fare while others paid $4.00 for a gallon of gas.  When we had enough, we found our way back to our car and headed home.   We love Southern California, despite the traffic and congestion, the noise, there is always someplace to go and something to do.  And when we are saturated, we can easily return to our haven, our home...sit on the porch, sip something nice and watch the hummingbirds. 

I Am A Massage Client - Trying Shiatsu

I am firmly convinced that humans were never meant to stand upright on two feet. Low back pain!  After biting a bullet for 5 days, waiting for this pain in my lumbar area to abate, I decided I better go see the doctor.

I LOVE my doctor. 

Dr. Thuy Tran is an admirable woman.  A member of the UCLA medical community she is my primary care physician. Not only is she skilled as a diagnostician, a personal and compassionate physician, but she is generous in sharing her expertise.  With other members of her family and some friends, she has created a medical care non-profit organization, Global Health Force, that delivers medical services and supplies to underserved areas of the world and spends her vacation time traipsing to places like Vietnam (her original home), Haiti, the Dominican Republic and India to do what she can for others.  And she is open-minded.

So when I went to see her for my low back pain, after ruling out any other medical possibilities, she determined that it was muscle pain, maybe stress-related, and proceeded to give me medical direction.  One thing she said was, "Do you go for massage?"  I replied, "Sometimes, like for my birthday!"  She said..."I am talking about medical massage...like Shiatsu.  You go there for health, not to smell the candles!"

She suggested a location at the Tozai Plaza in the heart of the local Asian community in Gardena and Jay and I set out for massage.

The facility was tiny, neat and calm.  It reminded us of various massage facilities we had visited while in China and Thailand a number of years ago.  The main massage room consisted of massage tables set up in a long row.

Since they couldn't take the two of us at the same time, Jay waited for me in the waiting area

...but then slipped out to the neighboring restaurant to get a bowl of  "cow parts and noodles!"

I did not disrobe for this massage, but wore loose clothing and my therapist, Linda, draped a light weight sheet over me so that her hands rarely touched my skin.  What I felt was her thumb!  Heavy deep tissue massage with her thumb probing into the muscles along my spine and lumbar area that felt so good, but at times also brought tears.  Shiatsu is considered an alternative medicine and the word means finger pressure in Japanese. Slowly and methodically, Linda worked all the musculature along my back and I slipped into an alternative reality! 

I felt wonderful when my 30 minutes was up and I kind of floated out to the car.  I am sure I was an inch taller!  On the way home it seemed appropriate to stop at an Asian Market where I bought some Dashi Powder and Red Chili Paste for a tofu dish and miso soup for dinner.

Thank you, Dr. Tran, for expanding my horizons! And to my friends, if you would like to be a partner in all the good that Global Health Force accomplishes, visit their website!  They are hosting their wonderful annual fund-raiser, the Global Gala on October 22 in Manhattan Beach...details at the website.