I Am A Reader - Aftertaste: A Novel in Five Courses

I am a reader.  Since childhood, nothing has given me greater pleasure that being caught up in a book.  I read all types of books ranging from fiction to the backs of cereal boxes. I especially enjoy a book that invites me to either share time with a character that comes to feel like a new best friend, allows me to share a part of someone's life that has brought new growth or a new awareness, challenges me to try to see life from a different perspective, leaves me with a desire to try something new.

The description of the book Aftertaste: A Novel in Five Courses by Meredith Mileti, was a natural pull for me. It was about a chef, her restaurant, food, relationship and love!  It was divided into 5 courses, and just as an Italian meal tempts you to want to eat more with its "antipasti," begins to comfort you with its "primi," then satisfies you with its "secondi," adds a little extra with its "contorni," and provides a delicious ending with its "dolci," so did this story begin, develop and end...leaving me satisfied.

The connecting force in all the dynamics of the plot is Mirabella Rinaldi, a young chef and new mother who is trying to deal with the various blows that befall her while life is in session...her unfaithful husband, the loss of her beloved restaurant, her return to her childhood home, the changing roles of mainstay persons in her life.  It is understandable if she is thrown off course as she tries to manage her emotions.  She lives her life the way she cooks.  She is passionate...diving in and immersing herself in her family, her friends, her cooking and her anger.  It is hard for her to restrain her emotions; this is her blessing and her curse.

I connected with Mira.  It could be her interests that seem to echo mine...her love of food, cooking, pulling together tastes, giving and nurturing those who matter to you by feeding them. It could be her personality and values.  It could even be her surname...Rinaldi...which is my own maiden name.  Whatever the reasons, I found myself understanding her and rooting for her as the story progressed.

The pace of the story also held me...smooth and conversational.  Unless a story has the right pace, I tend to become impatient, skimming lines to move it along.  In this case, I read every word.

I remember getting recipes from my Italian grandmothers. One frustration was often the lack of exact measurements of ingredients.  Instead of teaspoon and tablespoon would be the letters "q.b."  Salt...q.b.; water...q.b.; flour...q.b.  Q.B. stands for ""Quanto Basta" (when it is enough); something that is sensed...you just know it.  Mira cooked her life this way...she knew when it was enough: when it was enough with her ex-husband, when it was enough in her reaction to her father's new lady friend, when it was enough of New York.  Not a bad way to cook a life.

Bottom line, I recommend this novel.  In the final pages are some recipes I am eager to try.  The book left me with an aftertaste...for more by Meredith Mileti!

I Am An Estate Agent - Tying Up Loose Ends

Life is full of little deaths - small losses that when looked at on a to-do list, don't look like a big deal - but when implemented, feel like a punch in the stomach!

Today I disconnected my mother's telephone line.  Over the years this phone number has been the one constant connection between the Rinaldi family and the rest of the world.  It was issued to us when we moved to Hawthorne, CA from Kent, OH in 1955.  Years past and as we children grew up and went our own way, we could still be found by old friends calling 310-643-9411. My mother would answer the phone and tell them how to get in touch with us.  "You will never guess who called today!" she would say.  Voices from the past would say, "I just took a chance that this number was still good and I am so glad that you are still there!"

Every night when Jay and I would sit down in the living room to relax after dinner, maybe with the News Hour on TV or a good book in his hands and my knitting in mine, I would reach for the phone and speed dial 310-643-9411 for my daily phone call with my mother.  She expected the call, she waited for it, and when the phone rang, my sister Cathy would call out to her..."There's Pat!"  We would talk about the day, what she had done, what I had done, was there anything she needed. It was one of the periods to the sentence of my day.

I am busy these days tying up the loose ends of my mother's life.  I have had her phone number forwarded to my phone so I could see if anyone was still using the number; but after 2 weeks of callers asking if we wanted the carpets cleaned or offering to lower the interest rate on any credit cards, my brother and I decided to save the money and disconnect the line.

Now when you dial 310-643-9411 you will hear a recording telling you... "The number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service."  The phone line is gone.  My mother is gone.

I Am a Grandmother - Wednesdays With Gabriel

I have two grandsons...Nikolas and Gabriel.  They are 15 years apart in age and the good news about that is I had the opportunity to enjoy each one of them independently when they were children.  Nikolas had a section of my house that was his as he was growing up and he could lick the beaters when I baked a cake without having to share with anyone!

Now is my time with Gabriel and I treasure it.  Gabriel loves routine and Wednesday is our day.  I pick him up from school at 2:10 and bring him home with me.  Once home, he has an apple for a snack...always an apple, always cored and cut into little cubes.  He knows he has to do homework and likes to get it out of the way so he can do the things he enjoys...so he sets up shop on the kitchen island and delights in showing me what he has learned.

Last night he was doing Social Studies...4th grade studies the state of California and he had to fill in the blanks with words like land grants and ranchos and California Alta.  Jay loves it when we can't find an answer and Gabe calls out to "Grandpa Jay" with the question and "Grandpa Jay" calls back the answer!  It seems to me that children are learning complicated concepts at a much earlier age.   It is clear that they live in a world that is different from the one our children inhabited.  When Jay asked Gabriel what the word "economy" meant, Gabe said..."Wait, I'll check my phone!" and then proceeded to use the search capability on his iphone to find the definition!
 
Gabriel keeps us young and in touch with the world of today.  I wouldn't trade my Wednesdays with him for the all the tea in China!

I Am A Daughter - Burying My Mother

There is nothing like the reality of death to prompt you to contemplate the meaning of life.  On March 1, 2012 my mother, Grace Marie Montalto Rinaldi, died.  Her life was long and full.  She lived 95 years and experienced the heights of joy and the depths of pain...she was fully alive and I am not ready to let go of her.  I had the privilege of caring for her over the last 4 months when an emergency surgery for a perforated bowel triggered her decline and I had the honor of being with her (with my husband) when she died.  I had promised her she would not be alone and I was able to keep that promise.

Now the funeral and the burial are still a bit of a blur.  Yet it was in those days of grief that I experienced the richness of life...of MY life and was reminded of how all of life is a tapestry with the threads of various people and experiences weaving a rich fabric that I was able to wrap around my grieving heart.

First of all, my legacy, my three sons were pillars for me.  They took charge and protected me.  My youngest son, Marc, assumed the helm; he wrote the obituaries as well as organized and executed all the services.  He involved all his cousins so that every member of the family had a critical moment to pay tribute to their grandmother and great-grandmother.  With his brothers, Joseph and Michael, they deflected any problems that arose and made safe the path I had to walk to bury my mother.  Joe, as the oldest grandson, gave the most touching eulogy the first evening. Michael spoke on behalf of his brothers the next day, even though he was in excruciating pain from a root-canal gone bad.  They never left my side. I was so proud of them and so filled with love and appreciation.

Michael eulogizing his grandmother, with Marc and Joe at his sides.

My mother always bemoaned the fact that I did not have a daughter...because a daughter stays with you.  Yet, when I had to walk down the church aisle following the casket, it was my daughter-in-love, Milli, who had her arm around me and who stayed near me throughout the two days reminding me that I AM blessed with a daughter and that I am a good mother.

Milli and I

My two grandsons, Nik and Gabriel, each participated by being honorary pallbearers and by each doing a reading at the Mass.  Though born at different times of my life...Nik is now 25 and Gabriel is just 10...they remind me of MY legacy and the continuation of my mother, through me, to my sons, to their sons.

Throughout the days, every time I lifted my head I saw someone from my past that was there to walk with me.  First of all, three cousins from the mid-west arrived and were with me the entire time...cousins I had grown up with in Kent, Ohio and knew me as a child.  They held me physically and emotionally and helped me savor memories and remember to laugh. 

John, Mary Jo and Bob at my doorstep!

At the funeral, my two best friends from my high school days, Kathleen and Lois, were there.  One traveled 2 hours to be there.  We don't see each other that often anymore but their presence reminded me of our closeness in those years and reflected back to me who I was back in the day and who my mother was to them.

At the cemetery a woman began to run toward me calling my name.  It was my former sister-in-law, Helen.  We had been friends in the 60's before I ever married her husband's brother.  Life decisions changed my family unit when the father of my sons and I divorced and I no longer had contact with Helen.  But she had come the 2 hour drive from San Diego with her son, my god-son Peter, to be with me on this day.  Her hug was such a comfort and reminded me of who I was as a young mother.

Helen, Peter and me

In the 70's I was involved in the Cursillo Movement and met a woman who would become one of those friends who are a "true north" point for me...someone who shared my background and my dreams and who would always keep me grounded in truth.  Again our lives went in different directions but at crucial moments we are still there for each other.  Judith, with her husband, Brian were there Saturday morning and stayed at my side till the bitter end.  Judith reminds me of who I am at my core.

Judith at the gravesite

In the late 1980's I taught 5th grade at Transfiguration School in Los Angeles.  I was so heartened to see Henry and Ivaleen, Mac and Theresa...parents of children I had taught and who had become close friends in those years.  Our children are now adults with children of their own and we don't see each other very often, but their presence reminded me of who I was then.

When my sons were teenagers, their friends were in and out of the house, sat at our dinner table, cluttered the family room, added their voices to the din...they were my adopted sons and adopted grandsons of my mother.  It touched me to see John and Michael and Spritzz paying homage to my mother and reminding me of those years when I tried to be a second mother to them.

In 2000 I retired from my second career at TRW...a career I loved and that gave me the opportunity to work with a staff of bright and alive people.  Six of them (Theresa, Daryl, Karen, Kristina, Michael and Jayne) were at the services, expressing their condolences and reminding me who I was as a leader and a friend in the 90's.

Before marrying Jay most of my free time was spent in the company of my dearest women friends.  During the 80's and 90's we laughed, cried, traveled, ate, sipped wine and supported each other.  Cory, Marilyn and Norma were all standing on the sidelines reminding me who I was as a newly-single woman who still had a rich life ahead of her.

Marilyn, Cory, Norma and I in Yellowstone 1998

As life has evolved for me after retirement, Jay and I ventured into a new chapter and sought out the companionship of like-minded peers in Learning-in-Retirement. These ties are often intellectual, but we also connect at a more elemental level and have made dear friends.  We share this same period in our lives of "golden years" and some were present, Blanche & Chuck, Cindy & Dennis, John & Lynn, Al & Marilyn, Nancy, Barbara & Angelo, to remind me of the richness of my life today.

And by my side from the beginning of this difficult journey, in hospital Emergency Rooms, in Rehabilitation Centers, loading wheelchairs and oxygen tanks into cars, eating lukewarm take-out food after a long day, helping to unload medical equipment to set up a hospital room at my mother's home, staying with me at the bedside of a dying mother was my husband, Jay, who by his steadfastness tells me I am a woman of value, a good daughter, and that I am loved.

Jay at the graveside

So in the midst of the sorrow came a message of tremendous value.  My life is rich and full.  It has been filled with friends and relatives that are a part of the fabric of who I am.  I have much for which to be grateful.

So, dear mother...we lay you to rest.  I thank you for all that you have bequeathed to me. I admire you tremendously and I am proud to be your daughter.  I am so grateful to have had the moments to tell you this and to hear your responses to me.  I love you deeply and will miss you terribly.  I cannot believe that you are gone.

"Amazing Grace" 1916 - 2012

"Death leaves a heartache that no one can heal, love leaves a memory that no one can steal!"