I Am a Memoirist - Remembering a Special Day

After two more days of cold and heavy rain we awoke to blue skies and sun. Going out to pick up the newspapers we realized how invigorating the air was...crisp and clean and beckoning us to come out and play.  So we decided to take a ride along the coast to see what we could see.  The ocean was such a dark blue and near our house we could see many sailboats dotting the sea.  When we reached Redondo Beach, we parked the car and got out to walk.  People were crowding the pier, children were laughing and mariachis were playing at the fish market food areas.

We walked out on the walkways and marveled at how beautiful everything was.  To the north we could see Santa Monica

and to the south we could see the Palos Verdes Pennisula and even the outline of Catalina Island.

While there, I took advantage of the opportunity to buy some fresh fish heads to make stock for the New England Fish Chowder that Jay loves so much.

Then we got back in the car to drive to the Palos Verdes Pennisula.

Today was another special day for us.  We tend to celebrate a lot of anniversaries....the first time we went on a date, the first time we went to Palm Springs, the day I said yes to Jay's entreaties to "Marry me!", the first time we exchanged our wedding vows (in Cefalu in Sicily...which we consider the actual day of our marriage) and today...the day we publically exchanged our vows in a Wedding Celebration at La Venta Inn.  So we made the pilgrimage to La Venta

and we sat in the parking lot and remembered how special that day was for us and, we hope, for our family and friends.  We shared our memories of the event, interrupting each other with..."Remember...", "Remember..."  Then, using the time delay feature on our camera, we even managed to sneak onto the patio and take a picture in front of the fountain.

Life is full of special moments and we are able to relive them in our memories.  Memories are the way we hold on to the things we love, the things that we are and the things that we never want to lose.  We can take them out and turn them over in our mind and remember who we are and who we have been, who has loved us and who we have loved.  And I guess it is appropriate that as we age, the gift of those memories are there to remind us of the fullness of the life we have led.  I treasure my memories...even if at times they are bittersweet and I am left with a longing to be able to live that special moment just one more time.

My father died too young, at the age of 66.  But we really lost him years before that when Alzheimer's disease stole his memories.  At first he couldn't remember how to find his way home, then he could not remember how to read or make change.  Later, he could not remember his children and finally, he could not remember his wife.  This terrible condition, stripped him of his memories and erased his life for him.  Often, when I visit my 94 year old mother, she will start a conversation with the words..."Do you remember when...." and I know that she has been reliving her special moments, knowing that even if I heard the story many times before, I will listen as she tells me about it again, savoring the joy that it brings to her.

Memories form connections; they connect us to life and to others. A promise to myself: For as long as I am able I will try to create memories for me and for those that I love.

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!