I Am A Ritualist - Marc & Charlotte's New Home

When Jay and I were dating, one question I asked him was “What rituals are important to you?”   

To him a ritual had a religious connotation and he said he had none.  To me, rituals were more like traditions…certain behaviors we perform around meaningful events. 

My first memory of a ritual was how we were taught to greet our great-grandparents.  Grandma and Grandpa Rosso spoke Italian and I was taught to approach them politely, say “Si benedica” (Bless me), and they would put their hand on my head and say “Dio ti benedica” (God bless you). Then I would get a kiss!  That ritual bonded me to them.

Later, as my children were growing, when they would leave the house I would often make a cross on their forehead before they left, saying “God bless you and keep you safe!”  In fact sometimes, if I didn’t, my youngest Marc, would run up to me and say “Aren’t you going to bless me?”

I guess some rituals could be called superstitions, some could be aids to reduce anxiety, some could hold a religious significance.  But for the most part, I think of them as glue that holds us together as a family!

Yesterday I had the opportunity to enact a ritual that I especially enjoy.  Marc, Charlotte and Gino received the keys to a house they just purchased in Long Beach. 

They asked us to meet them at the house for our first “tour.”   

Whenever a family member moves into a new house my first visit to the home includes bringing 4 specific Italian Housewarming items:  A bottle of wine, a loaf of bread, a box of salt and a broom.

Bread (il pane): the staff of life, symbolizing Basic Sustenance

Salt (il sale): symbolizing the extra zest to lift life from the ordinary

Wine (il vino): symbolizing joy and happiness

Broom (la scopa): symbolizing the "sweeping out" of old baggage, old problems, negative emotions

I don’t know who appreciates the ritual more…the recipient or ME.  It is a way for me to acknowledge all the good things I wish for them and it also says…no matter where you go, where you live, how old you are, or how many times we might disagree, somethings are constant and you can count on them.  We are a family and nothing can take that away.

Some of my children have more brooms than others!  I remember Joe telling me once when he was preparing for yet another move, "I was going to pack my old broom but then I remembered...Mom will be bringing me a new one!”

Marc, Charlotte and Gino…I wish you much happiness in your new home.  May its walls hold the sounds of love and laughter!

I Am A Grandmother - Welcoming Gino Bossie Altieri to the World

The past 4 days have been like a whirlwind and my heart is so full.  Marc and Charlotte gave birth to my newest little grandson, Gino Bossie Altieri, born on December 11, 2014, weighing 8 lbs. 4 oz., 21 inches long, and looking perfect…a perfect blend of his mom and his dad.   

I have wanted to write a blog to capture the event but didn’t know what I would write.  How do I capture in words an experience that is beyond words?  But I know that once I start writing, any blog really writes itself…so here goes!

Gino is the son of my third son, Marc...my baby.  I have always been amazed that each of my children has a unique connection to me, and since Marc was 5 years younger than his brother Mike, he and I had time together, as if he was an only child, while his brothers were in school. Because of that, I think we have a unique connection.  We would run errands together during the day, and he would sit in the passenger seat next to me with his little feet barely hanging over the seat edge, and he would chatter away telling me all the important things that were in his little mind.  He told me “I think my hobby is talking!”  And we have always talked.  Sometimes joyfully, sometimes painfully…but we have always talked and shared honestly what was inside of us. 

For years I listened as Marc told me of his desire to have a family.  He didn’t long for fancy things, or status…in fact he seemed to go out of his way to prove he was different.  But he did long for a life partner and a family.  However…he never met a girl that he could connect with in a soulful, meaningful way.  He would tell me that maybe he needed to accept the fact that he would remain a bachelor, that he would never have a family.  I carried his longing in my heart.

Then at 43, he met Charlotte and his life changed.  He found someone who wanted all the love he had to give and would accept him for who he was…would love him with a warmth and sensitivity and spirit  that is priceless.  She was someone that he could gather in, love and protect, support and share life with in a way that was authentic.  They are so good together!

Marc and Charlotte - 2013

So at 44 he became a father and he and Charlotte brought Gino into our life.  I have been amazed at how the two of them approached this birth, truly a team.  Marc went to every Dr.’s appointment, charted her progress, photographed her growing figure, talked to his son in-utero.  He attended lactation classes and ended up knowing more about breastfeeding than I did, after nursing three children. He never left her side through the entire delivery and recovery.

Cutting the cord.

Hi little guy!

First Family Photo!

The day of the birth, it was truly a family event.  Everyone was gathered at the waiting room of Long Beach Memorial Hospital.  

Uncle Fred & Aunt Sharon, Joey & Kimberly, Poppa, Mom & Jay and Mike Pedersen...waiting!

His brother Michael, who was on a business trip, was connected through constant text messages.  Michael even had Facetime with his new nephew via his iPhone just hours after the birth. 

Hi Uncle Mike!

But I honestly don’t know what thrilled me more…the gift of this precious new baby or watching the elation on the face of my son.  

 

In the room, with Charlotte's Aunt Vickee, her brother Brian & Samantha

Parenting is not easy.  Having my three sons has given me the greatest joys and the most intense pain  I have experienced in my life.  All any parent wants for their children is their happiness.  Seeing Marc so radiant with joy…holding his son, calming him, changing is diaper, helping him latch on to Charlotte’s breast, tending to Charlotte’s needs…my heart is so full and I am so grateful.

So this blog did write itself.  And surprise…it was more about Marc than about Gino!  But I guess  that is my perspective as a mother.  We remarked in the waiting room that having a child is having your heart walk outside of your body.  That holds true whether that child is 1 day old or 44 years old.  

The greatest joy for me is that Marc and Charlotte have invited me in.  They have allowed me to be intimately involved in this glorious event.  And isn’t that all any parent longs for…to be allowed to share in their children’s lives…be it joy or sadness…but to share in their lives.

 

Welcome to the world, little Gino Bossie Altieri.   

Every child should be as wanted and loved as you are!

I Am A Grandmother - "Goooooooo Huskies!"

The question, “Are there coincidences?” could be debated for hours.  Is life just a toss of the dice, or is there an order, a plan?  In hindsight, it always looks like there has been a path but the future is never as clear as the past! 

One coincidence that occurred after our move to San Pedro is that our grandson, Gabriel, who was entering sixth grade, “middle school,” was enrolled in a new school that just happened to be in…San Pedro!  What a coincidence!  When he was accepted into the school, he called us and said… "Now you can pick me up from school!”  And we do, at least once a week.  It also means we can easily attend his extra-curricular activities.

Gabriel is a child that is full of energy 

Gabriel - 21 months - running!

and he is passionate about his activities.  Whether it is working on his math, singing a song, telling a story, or playing a sport, he always “tries his best” and gives it 110%.  He LOVES sports and through the years we have attended many baseball,  hockey, and soccer games.   

Gabriel - 5 years old - Soccer

This year, he signed up for his school’s soccer team and we are now RHP Huskie fans!  Last Friday we attended his first game.

 

We cheered and yelled. It was very hot, but that did not deter his effort! 

 

 Even though they did not win, Gabe “played his best” and “supported his team!”

Most of his fan club was there…including his mother and grandmother, Basillia.    

In 1958, Harry Belafonte recorded a song, “Turn Around” and many times during the years, the words have echoed in my head and my heart as I have watched my own sons and now my grandsons live through life’s passages.  The feelings it brings are always “bittersweet.”  It is the awareness of the passage of time and the reminder to “pay attention” to the moment, to be fully present because my life is not a destination, it is the journey.  It is what is happening right now…in front of me.  So, I watch my grandson and drink him in with my eyes.  I watch him enter adolescence.  I watch him comb his hair a certain way, "like David Beckham."  I watch him asked to be called "Gabe, not Gabriel or Gabey."  I see him look surreptitiously at a pretty girl.  I see and I hold tight to the vision, because...time passes just too quickly!

Where are you going, my little one, little one
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around and you're two, turn around and you're four
Turn around and you're a young girl (BOY) going out of my door

I Am A Licensed Driver - Renewing My License

There are many rites of passage that signal a new stage along life's journey.  When I was a sophomore in high school, I could not wait until I celebrated my 16th birthday and was old enough to apply for my very first driver's license.  Having my birthday in February meant that I was the oldest of my high school clique of girlfriends and the first to have that magic piece of paper in my wallet.  In those days, there were not restrictions on newly licensed teenagers.  I had my license and I owned the road...at least whenever my parents would allow me to use the family's only car...the 1955 brown Chevy station wagon...as long as I replaced the 55 cents worth of gasoline that I used.  While it was not a "cool" car, it served its purpose and transported me and my friends to movies, to high school dances and even to an occasional clandestine trip to Hollywood to live on the wild side!

Well, I am still the older of many of my old high school friends and today I experienced another rite of passage. I am probably the first of them to have to "re-take" the written test to renew my driver's license.  After years of being able to just fill out the paperwork, write a check, and drop both pieces of paper into the mail to receive my renewed license, this time, since I had passed that magic age of 70, I had to appear in person at the DMV for a vision test and a written exam.

 
Spending time at the DMV is always a cultural experience and I learn much for observing the sea of humanity swarming around me. 

Jay was a trooper and went with me and even with an advanced appointment, it took almost two hours to complete this simple task.

Somehow, I did not have the same sense of excitement as I left the building, my temporary paper license in hand to serve until the new one, with the more "mature" picture, arrives in the mail.  I did feel some low level anxiety as I approached the appointment and the tests.  Having a license and being able to drive continues to give a sense of independence and control over life.  I recall how proud my mother was of her driving ability.  In fact, at age 95, on the day we rushed her to the hospital for her emergency surgery, one thing she regretted was that she missed her appointment that same day for her behind-the-wheel driving test needed to renew her license.  Even though she didn't drive much, still being able to was important to her.  So what did I feel?  I guess some relief that it was done and I was successful and maybe also a little pride.  After all...not only did I pass but I did it with flying colors! There is still a child inside each of us, no matter what the date of birth on the driver's license says!

I Am A Reader - Having a Favorite Spot

I love to read.  In fact, I can never remember not being able to read.  I have loved libraries since childhood and possess library cards to 5 different libraries.  When traveling, visits to the local bookstores are always on the itinerary.  There is always at least one book title on my Christmas wish list.  I often have 3 or 4 books in progress and as I reach the end of an especially enjoyable one I have mixed feelings…not wanting it to end and yet, eager to venture into another book waiting on my to-be-read pile.  I have always felt there were two kinds of people in the world: those who read the backs of cereal boxes as they eat their breakfast and those who don’t.  I do.  From the time I was a small child, I have loved to bury my nose in a book and get lost in a fictional setting.  I also enjoy non-fiction but truth be told, I love a good story.

Jay and I live in a small home just a few blocks from the beach.  It would be listed as a three bedroom house, but we only use one room as a bedroom.  The second is our office and the third and smallest one is our “sunroom” named such because in the afternoon, as the sun is moving across the sky to sink into the ocean, it sheds wonderful light through the sliding glass doors and creates a sense of warmth and comfort.  One wall is filled with three bookcases that hold our favorite books…those that we cannot part with.  There is a love seat that opens into a single sized bed so when we have an overnight visitor, it becomes a guest room.  And it has a rocking chair.

I can read anyplace…in a doctor’s waiting room, in a moving car, on the couch in the living room, at my desk in the office, in bed at night.  But when I want to have a special treat, when I really want to settle into my book, I go to the rocker in the sunroom.  

My rocker is old and creaky.  I bought it when my first son was born.  Over the years this rocker has welcomed me.  When I couldn't sleep at night because of a head cold or a whirling agitated mind, I would sit under an afghan in the rocker and sooth myself.  When babies could not go to sleep, it was here I sat while singing soft melodies until they finally dozed off.   I remember rocking my children and grandchildren in it until their legs had grown so long they dangled off the sides.  The joints are not as tight as they used to be and over the years it has developed a comforting creak.  I remember one time while I was rocking a grandchild, my youngest son, Marc (then a young man) said if he closed his eyes, the sound of the rocker brought him back to the days when he was the child in my lap.  

How do you put a price tag on the things that assume such value in your life?  How do you explain the emotional attachment that makes an inanimate object something that contains part of the pulse of your life experience.  I laugh to myself when I imagine attempting to evacuate my house in an emergency, only able to take my most precious belongings out the door with me, and trying to managing getting the rocker out the front door and down the many front steps in a hurry!

So, the book on the rocker is the novel I began today...in the rocker...in the sunroom: The Unlikely Pilgrimage Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce.