Eyes, the color of blueberries

When Adam first described Alaura's eyes as the color of blueberries I was taken back - delightfully so....and then I looked closely - and it is true - her eyes are the color of blueberries -







I can't quite figure out how to type above or below a picture. Hmmmm - well, these are all of Alaura and her opening her gifts from us. etc. Also, we went to dinner at Skipp's restaurant - and Jen and Jo'el met us there - we had a delicious meal and a really fun time. :-) That is a picture of Skipp with the two grand kids.

It has been a wonderful time for all of us - this chapter is written now - it is a good chapter filled with all good things for her to have, forever. They leave in the morning for Virginia to spend Christmas with Adam's Mom and Step Dad.

And now, some moments for us to reflect and give thanks for this gift of time with Adam and Alaura - the ability to share our home, our love, our life of peace and hope, understanding and fun. :-)

we will spend some time straightening out the house, cleaning up the bathrooms and a quick vacuum - and then have some quiet time with a glass of wine and a nice fire in our wood stove later - a simple meal and a good nights sleep. So very much to feel good about - so very much to believe in -

and please remember prayers for my Mom - as we continue on now with some more tests and medication additions and adjustments. Life has offered us so much this week - every emotion is alive.

Thanksgiving in Brooklyn

Hi to all my amazing blog-friends. So much to be thankful for. Here are some pictures of Thanksgiving in Brooklyn at my son Dolan's place and the carving of the "tur-duck-hen".

It was a wonderful day. And, for years I have been writing "why I am thankful for you" letters to anyone who sits at our Thanksgiving table. This year, Dolan wrote the letters - I was so touched that he honored my tradition and I was moved to tears by their loving and honest content. We all were. I was SO happy to have Jennifer and her boyfriend and Jo'el with us - to be able to celebrate her life and her relationship is amongst my greatest gifts this year.

And Alaura has arrived.....safely, with her Dad on Friday. I will give you just one sneak preview picture of her - it posted first, - I am still learning how to post pictures accurately.

and may I add, the chapters of her story that we are writing while she is here are so fun and loving and full of hope, and promise and celebration. I sigh a big sigh of joy. :-)

Another Chapter to be written :-)

"HAPPY THANKSGIVING" to all of my friends here in blog-land and the village. I have read some amazing posts on gratitude and positive attitude and blessings and hope and love and healing and truth and tradition and compassion.................

I don't have anything profound to add...........only that it is an honor and a blessing of gratitude to share this arena with each and every one of you. I am humbled by your writing skill, sharing, courage, love, gifts and talents, purpose, hopes, promises, passions, goodness, sufferings, determination, inspiration, wisdom, enlightenment, sacrifices, faith, despair, joy, and your kindness and validation of me - I am humbled beyond words.


....and although we don't "see" each other we "feel" and "know" each other quite intimately. And you all have reached out to me and have accepted my reach to you in good times and in bad - we have been there for one another laughing and crying, listening and sharing, understanding and offering............and so I picked this song for all of you this Thanksgiving..... with deep gratitude, respect, desire, and hope for us all......




As of tomorrow, Tuesday, I will be limited to computer access. With great joy we will be putting up our tree tomorrow - in preparation for our granddaughter and Skipp's son arrival on Friday. We are going to have their gifts under the tree and have a pre-Christmas celebration. Skipp is on vacation starting tomorrow and we are going to "catch up" with ourselves. :-) He is off through Saturday. So tomorrow is tree day, and I will get my Mom as she so enjoys being part of the festivities. It will be wonderful. On Wednesday we are making my 'famous stuffing'!! And preparing the buttternut squash and sweet potato dish. On Thanksgiving we are going tomy son's home in Brooklyn. He is hosting dinner this year and is serving "tur-duck-en"!!! My daughter, grandson and her fiance' are also going. I am SO excited. Skipp's son Adam and our grand daughter Alaura arrive on Friday and will be staying with us until Tuesday morning, 12/1. We plan to go to Skipp's restaurant on either the Sunday or Monday so he can show Alaura off to his staff. :-) And I am so aware that this is our chance to write a chapter of "her story".......they live in Maine so she will not spend a lot of time with us over all. This chapter will read with love, and laughter, music, and fun food, books to read, and walks, flannel pajamas, and big quilts, stuffed animals and hot chocolate, holding hands and praying at meals................... good memories. :-)

I will be back on next week some time, Until then, "Thank you" all and "Happy Thanksgiving".....

RE-DO OF CHATFIELD HOLLOW POST, GREENS, LAUREL AND PINE CONES- ALIGNED PICTURES. AND PLEASE REFER TO PREVIOUS POST FOR ALL OF THE WONDERFUL COMMENTS

It was a perfect day - a November wind was blowing beneath gray ominous sky - we walked proudly and with determination - the task before us - to gather enough greens, mountain laurel and pine cones for three potted Christmas season arrangements for three graves of three wonderful men - my Dad, my nephew, my brother-in-law - all resting in peace beneath the now very big tree up on that hill in Resurection Cemetery.


We have been walking though Chatfield Hollow for twenty five years now - ever since my Dad died. As I have shared - he, at age 17 was a member of the Connecticut Corp of Engineers and built all the bridges in Chatfield Hollow. One is pictured above!! Then 7 years ago - my sisters son Clayton died - and he was laid to rest one place away from my Dad. And next to him? His Dad - Kelly - who passed this past January. This year is the first year we had to gather enough greens and pine cones and laurel for three potted arrangements - and we did! :-) The finished arrangements ae pictured above. My sister Nancy has quite a talent for such artistry - as did my Dad - who was a florist by trade and passion although he drove trucks most of his life. Floristry was his gift and my sister has such a gift as well. :-)

Our Mom is pictured as well - walking happily along with her walker - I had my walker/rollator too! I, at one point, became so aware of how my mobility has changed since we first were walking this walk to gather our greens and cones and laurel. I felt tears of reality and we stopped and rested and we all hugged - the loving silence was so inspiring - energizing - we forged on up the grade to "our area" we always go too - pictured above of the deep pine trees with pine needles blanketing the earth. We gathered quietly - each aware of the other - knowing how blessed we are to be together this day - to remember honor - share - breathe - live and carry on. And we did. With walkers and tears, laughs and deep sighs, we carried on.

We went back to my Mom and sister's home and enjoyed a delicious lunch of quiche and salad and ginger ale. And we just spent time talking, remembering, believing, praying, loving, laughing, crying and sharing. The wind blew, the sky stayed gray - the air was sharp and biting - the trees almost naked - the leaves tossed about - and we stood firm - on a solid sacred ground of mothers-daughters-sisters - ever vigilant - ever loving - ever true - for all our days. Amen.

Chatfield Hollow - Greens, laurel and pine cones for three......

It was a perfect day - a November wind was blowing beneath gray ominous sky - we walked proudly and with determination - the task before us - to gather enough greens, mountain laurel and pine cones for three potted Christmas season arrangements for three graves of three wonderful men - my Dad, my nephew, my brother-in-law - all resting in peace beneath the now very big tree up on that hill in Resurection Cemetery.


We have been walking though Chatfield Hollow for twenty five years now - ever since my Dad died. As I have shared - he, at age 17 was a member of the Connecticut Corp of Engineers and built all the bridges in Chatfield Hollow. One is pictured above!! Then 7 years ago - my sisters son Clayton died - and he was laid to rest one place away from my Dad. And next to him? His Dad - Kelly - who passed this past January. This year is the first year we had to gather enough greens and pine cones and laurel for three potted arrangements - and we did! :-) The finished arrangements ae pictured above. My sister Nancy has quite a talent for such artistry - as did my Dad - who was a florist by trade and passion although he drove trucks most of his life. Floristry was his gift and my sister has such a gift as well. :-)

Our Mom is pictured as well - walking happily along with her walker - I had my walker/rollator too! I, at one point, became so aware of how my mobility has changed since we first were walking this walk to gather our greens and cones and laurel. I felt tears of reality and we stopped and rested and we all hugged - the loving silence was so inspiring - energizing - we forged on up the grade to "our area" we always go too - pictured above of the deep pine trees with pine needles blanketing the earth. We gathered quietly - each aware of the other - knowing how blessed we are to be together this day - to remember honor - share - breathe - live and carry on. And we did. With walkers and tears, laughs and deep sighs, we carried on.

We went back to my Mom and sister's home and enjoyed a delicious lunch of quiche and salad and ginger ale. And we just spent time talking, remembering, believing, praying, loving, laughing, crying and sharing. The wind blew, the sky stayed gray - the air was sharp and biting - the trees almost naked - the leaves tossed about - and we stood firm - on a solid sacred ground of mothers-daughters-sisters - ever vigilant - ever loving - ever true - for all our days. Amen.





I can't seem to figure out how to get my pre-set signature to the bottom of this post. Hmmmmm. Cinner? Help? :-) And there is a picture almost completely hidden behind another picture and I can't seem to re-locate on the post - if you click on it though and enlarge it you can see a good view of one of my Dad's bridges. :-) Can someone tell me how to arrange pictures on a post.

Love Gail
peace................

A Requiem Of Emotions

And so today is a day of honor - memory - sadness - love - joy - celebration - agony - oh so many things. For today is the day Clayton Joseph Kelly died seven years ago. And today is the day my Mom was born - Liberata Marranzino - 86 years ago. The force of these events surges through our family like wild fire, fine wine, lava and silk all at once. I feel it all. Clayton, just 32 years old - my sisters oldest son - my God-son - a man of honor - love - understanding - humanity - purpose - humility and promise. Our Mom - a woman of deep faith - grace - love - humor - hope and integrity. Celebrating both these lives is a requiem for every emotion.

Our family dinner was so loving and so delicious. My home made sauce, meat balls and stuffed shells were quite good. The candles were lit, pictures sat on the table of Clayton. My Mom sat proudly, lovingly and humbly as she gazed out at the bounty surrounding her. Glimpses of my sisters husband of 40+ years were seen in corners and in songs, in their other two sons smiles and the home that they built keeping us warm and secure. He, now with his son in Heaven - she here, for the first time - remembering the day their son died without him by her side - active in their grief.

About 9 years ago an Indian woman I worked with gave me a gift when she left the agency. She knew back then the inhumanity. The gift was a silver metal star with gold trim around the edges on a long silver stand and in the middle of the star a clear indigo blue glass stone with a place for a tea-light right behind it so when lit the blue light would shine. I had it in my office for years. About a year ago it was packed away and a few weeks back it came back to me when my friends delivered all my "stuff" from my office. When Clayton died my husband and I wrote a song and recorded it - titled "Shining Star". We have sung it every year since he died and it has been circulating eve since. I must tell you that when he sings it everyone "listens" - it is so beautiful. Also, when my sisters husband died in Hospice - the staff puts a 'blue light' on the door so the people on the floor know that someone has passed in that room. We all took a 'blue light home. I hung ours on "Hope-the tree". It shined for days - I could see it 1000 feet away coming down the drive . So as I looked at this hand made silver star with the indigo blue glass I immediately thought of my sister and how these two elements reminded me that Clayton and his Dad are together. I told her the story of my Indian friend and why I was now giving this to her. We lit it during dinner - and the blue light shined through the silver shining star and we all felt the promise.

WRITING SOMEONE ELSES STORY

Writing stories - simple enough huh? Well hang on a sec - this is not quite what you might be thinking. I have been pondering the many variables, possibilities, purposes and so forth of story writing. I am speaking of the chapters we write that end up being part of someone else's story! Everyone we know, or with whom we have a chance encounter - we are part of their story. In blog-land -we are part of each others story. I refer back to that Grey's Anatomy episode: There was an abused mother caught in the cycle of abuse - so much so that heR seven year old daughter took matters in to her own hands and shot her abusive father 17 times. One of the doctors spoke sternly to the mother, telling her that she had to "Change her daughter's story". That line penetrated me deeply. I realized how children look to the adults in their lives to "write their stories" until they are of age to write their own. Each of us is part of the story for any and all children in our lives. My step-son is coming for a week with our little grand-daughter for a week. My first selfish thought was, "oh no, what will I do with them for a whole week - Skipp works long hours and it will be me and them?????" I stayed in that selfish mind set for a quick minute - and I asked myself - "How do I want this chapter to read that I will be writing and will forever be a part of the story of her life?" I am collecting 'kid movies' from friends and we are going to plan a 'pre-Christmas' just for her so she can open gifts under our tree. I am planning fun kid meals and time for crafts - we are going to make our own play-dough!! I think you get my drift. What do the chapters or pages look like that were written by you and will be written by you for the children whose lives you have touched and will continue to touch or have yet to touch?
As adults we have choices, for the most part, of who we allow to be part of the 'writing of our story', friends, and life's partners. Sometimes, even when the chapters they add or edit are painful and disrespectful we allow them to continue writing. I have let many "hold the pen" long after they deserved the honor. Then there are those kind of forced upon us, teachers, clergy, bosses, co-workers, neighbors, some family members all holding a pen and writing like it is theirs to complete. Those are the "lessons" I imagine we learn that make us stronger. All part of "our story".
Sometimes we eliminate story writers. Divorce, ending a friendship, or sometimes we avoid someone so whomever cannot get their pen any where near our 'story' so to add a line or a chapter or more. And sometimes the 'end' is good as it makes room for a new beginning - some times the missing pages that person would have written are really best left unwritten.

I am very much invested in this "story writing" responsibility. I ask myself all the time, before I act, if I feel good about my signature being on the lines, pages and chapters of someone else's story. I realize the "Butterfly Effect" more intently that I ever have. That what happens to one of us directly happens to all of us indirectly and that I am 100% responsible for the effect I create in being privileged to have a page in someone else's story.


Sadly, there are those who intend a harmful effect - thank God I have no reference for such personal intent. And those people are the ones, once recognized, that are not allowed to have a pen anywhere near my story. Some slip through anyway - and it is another lesson learned.

So may I ask of you today that you think about all the people in your lives, especially children, for whom you hold a pen and are able to write lines, pages and chapters of their story. Your pen is very powerful. And to look at the people in your life that hold a pen and perhaps it is an honor they do not deserve. Take their pen away. :-) And the others, that deserve the pen, - hold on to them for dear life and encourage their next chapter. :-)