We are our parents, like it or not.

Dad. This morning, so vividly I dreamed about him at our 5058 family house.
I could hear his voice, see the cadence in his walk.
There he was, bed head, in his boxer shorts and his v-neck t-shirt shuffling thru the house from bedroom, to kitchen to living room. Sitting at the kitchen table. I could hear his voice. For once he did not whistle, but he did say a few of his favorite things. Of course, I can’t remember. Maybe it was “oasty toast”. Or perhaps he sang one of his favorites, “Matches, matches” He spoke to all of us. Whatever he was doing or saying, he was in what we called “Lou time”.

My dad was funny and sometimes inappropriate. He subscribed to shock humor, but sometimes he could just raise an eyebrow, roll his eyes and you’d laugh. He sang out loud for no particular reason. He re-racked almost every day and stayed in his boxers or sweats until he was ready to shower and leave the house. And sometimes he didn’t leave, especially on game days. He got up, sat at the "helm" (in his case, the kitchen table), drew lines on paper, made a few calls, and got to work on the point spreads. He loved his ownership of the kitchen table and doing his work right in the middle of the “hub”. He had a schedule in his head which he did not always share with anyone else. But in his mind, it was all going to work out.

What do I remember about this particular dream? It was still so strong when I got up that I wanted to cry like a child, I missed my parents so much, but from the time I got up, fed the dog, had some coffee, got to the computer the details were quickly fading.

We were all there at the house on Western Hills Ave., Gina was small, Vince was getting a baseball lecture from Dad, mom was spinning like a little tornado, managing everything, my friend Monica was there, it was raining and I had to dig thru the hall closet to find us umbrellas, Abe Vigoda (ok, it WAS a dream!) lived next door somehow. There was a restaurant in the cul de sac on our street that Monica and I were going to go to to meet my mom. Mom appeared outside in the car and the car would not start, it was raining, she was aggravated and Abe said he could jump it. Dad thought that was funny and he and I watched from the porch as it poured rain. Abe got the car started, but also got a shock. Turns out he was standing in water. Dad laughed his silent heaving laugh. I said it’s really NOT funny, but it was because of how he saw it.

I am 56 years old and I’d say sometimes I am so much more like my dad than my mom. Especially when it comes to flow of my day and my work, and where I find my humor in life. I wear sweats, not boxers and have been accused of being firmly planted in “LuAnn time”. I am not a bookie, but I do live my life based on possibility, luck and trust with a huge dose of talent, thank God.

And if there is one thing I can see clearly now that I am “orphaned” it is that we are all one, connected at birth. We are them, our wacky parents, like it or not, to some degree.

So this year, if you are lucky enough to still have both parents, be grateful and give them some extra time…its all they really want, because having them both, well, there is nothing like it and it does not last forever.

My New Normal

It’s been almost 2 months now since my mom passed away. And people are constantly asking me how I am doing. I find that I am adjusting to having my two new companions, grief and sorrow, with me all the time. Up until now, I had no idea how deep the sadness could be. People say that it’s most profound when you are alone. “Ahh”, I said to myself, “therein lies the problem. I am alone most of the time”.

Don’t feel sorry for me, I have always preferred it. It’s a choice I made when I decided to work on my own. But now it’s a bit much. And I know what “deafening silence” is like.
Honestly, I don’t think there is any skirting around the mourning process even if you are surrounded by people at all times. Grief is ever present, just right under the surface, just one incident away.

For example today I was in line at the little Post Office across the street from my house. This was just one of a handful of errands on my list. I was feeling good, moving thru my day. Then I noticed they were playing an old jitterbug song on their sound system. And bam! Just like that, I am flooded with the memory of my mom teaching me to jitterbug, of her taking my hands into hers and showing me, saying, “step, step, step, step, back step”, and of me, sort of being happy and irritated at the same time (I was a teenager), because she could do it and I couldn’t. It was an old memory, she was maybe 35, in the prime of her life and she was joyful because she loved to dance, so I guess that’s a good thing. However, I still sobbed over it, still missed her like crazy.

I find nights to be hardest; I just lay in bed and recap those last few days until I just come around to the conclusion that it was her time, she would be the first one to say this, and we could not fix it.

I have discovered that people respond all different ways to loss and grief. My closest friends, and I thank God for them everyday, absolutely hate to see my sadness, yet they know it’s a process. They are all very in tune, a few of them having just gone thru this with their parents. My mom was such a big part of my life. She was here with me for weeks at a time, so she got to know each of them incredibly well. And in that way, she was in their lives also.

Some people say nothing at all, but they look at you with pity. I have always been of the mindset to openly acknowledge someone’s loss. Maybe I remember this from when my brother died at age 32. That loss was a “constant companion” for a long time and I remember learning the difference between those who knew that pain and those who had never lost anyone. At the time, I attributed it to age; most of the people in my life were under 30. But now I just realize some folks are just not wired that way; they would rather avoid the subject completely and act like nothing has changed.

But everything has changed, that’s a given. And after nearly 2 months, I put one foot in front of the other and go on. I cry hard and often, and I think its normal. I try to manage my anxiety to the best of my ability and channel my energy into something positive, I try to have patience with the process and I try to laugh as much as I cry. How about that for balance?

My Eulogy for Fern

It’s hard to know where to begin. As I write I am thinking about how she told me in high school to take typing. I did not. I took needlecraft and art. Who knew typing would become the key to life? Fern knew, so mom you were right. I am typing with 3 fingers looking at all the keys.

There is never a day that goes by that I don’t say these words in almost every conversation: “My mom told me….” Or “My mom thinks…, or “I was talking to my mom and she said…,

And in this case because I always listen to my mom, she told me, LuAnn you are a writer, you need to write, so today, I wrote.

Fern came into this world, in a hurry, a ball of fire. We called her “Fern the Burn” because she loved to go, to play, to always be completely engaged and involved in her life and all of our lives.

As a wife, she was totally dedicated to my dad for almost 50 years. I used to think that everyone had a “Lou” story, but I am also sure everyone has a “Fern” story as well. I am sure he was so happy to see her arrive.

My mom was a great networker. She did not need FaceBook, although she did always ask me what was going on there so she would not miss anything. I’m sure she is here right now because this is a big event and one she would not want to miss this.

My Mom had her own social network. We called it the “daily broadcast” and I know lots of you in here today were on it every single day: Aunt Mary Ann, Carol, Threase, Rosie, Dukie, Sharon1, Mary, Fern Webster. And those were just the early morning calls. I know I got my call, right before my mom would “go to lunch”. Which, by the way, was “code” for something else, particularly if she were with some of you and you know who you are! No need to name names!

She loved all of her friends, some of whom she had for all of her 79 years.

As Aunt Fern, she was truly a right of passage. Who doesn’t recall finally being as tall as Aunt Fern? That’s 4’11 and one half.

She loved all of her nieces and nephews. My mom was all about those noisy, food filled gatherings at holidays and summer parties. Because family was everything to her.

She loved music and dancing. I think in another life she was a performer, perhaps a dancer and maybe a singer.

She could not get over that we had someone in our family who could sing. I know she is beaming with pride at this Mass we just heard.

And just for a moment we have to mention Dancing with the Stars. She could not get enough of this show! She could call every score. She could have been a judge. She made us call Fern Webster from her hospital bed Tuesday night so she could weigh in. And as Fern Webster told me last week, she would always say, I can do that dance, Fern. This was true, she could really dance! Just 2 years ago, although she could barely walk, she had a little divine intervention at a wedding reception and she and Uncle Roy hit the floor for a jitterbug. They drew quite a crowd! I think it was a moment of great joy! When I asked her how she was able to do that, she had no answer.

We read in one of my mom’s journals last night that she wondered what kind of person that we thought she was. She knows that her kids loved her, but if asked what kind of person was your mom, what would we say?

Are you kidding me?

Fern was our mom, our hero and the leader of our tribe. She was our “go to “person for everything. She championed all of our causes! She was tough, but also compassionate. She was intuitive and insightful. She was both really fun and funny. She was both restless and patient, but only because life demanded it from her. She was loyal and generous with her time. If she liked them, she made our friends, her friends. She was both a good listener and a great life coach, for her family and her friends. She loved this life and tried to live it to the fullest everyday.

Fern was generous with her heart; she was a “fixer” and a really great listener. She could sort of keep a secret, but you had to tell her to keep it in the vault, otherwise it went out on “the broadcast”. She always called it as she saw it and lived life on her terms.

We were all very different and the only thing she truly wanted was for us to be happy:

Tony, the most colorful child. He needed her the most. I’m sure she is with him now, laughing, but he did give her a run for her money when he was here.

Tina, her loving, carefree, reliable daughter. For many years she was the only daughter in town, an honor I am sure she will always treasure. She loved you beyond words, Tina.

Greg, her son-in-law who has been a part of our family for 20 plus years and was always there for whatever my mom needed.

Vince, her only son here. There was not one thing he could do wrong. If I were on the phone with her and Vince came down the steps, she had to go because St. Vince was in the house.

Sharon, my sister in law and what we consider to be our other sister. You had the greatest of all compliments: she loved you like a mom and thought you were a good wife for her son.

Gina, her baby and what we called her “only child”.

Mom would tell me that Gina was the most like her. I think it was because Gina was the only one who would challenge what my mom would say.

Mom was so happy when you moved back here. Gina, you made her life, even the very challenging parts, full of laughter and fun.

And me. I can’t even write these words. She thought I was spectacularly talented, smart and just a good person. She told me, just now as I type this, that I am one of her finest works, and that I will carry the best part of her with me always.

Vincent, Melissa, Carly, Rhianna, Leah, Tony and Lily.

She loved her grandchildren and her great grandchildren but was not a typical grandma. She taught them about the importance of family, to play cards, to crochet a scarf, and to make a meatball. And God knows, she could crochet like a maniac. This year she made at least 300 scarves. She said it was relaxing. And although she claimed not to be an animal lover, she did love my “curb stone”, Frank.

Mom loved her brothers and sisters-in-laws.

Uncle Roy, “my brother Roy” she would say. She thought you could make or build anything, anywhere, anytime.

She loved your stories and your sense of humor.

Her heart was broken for you and your kids when Aunt Barb passed away. She said her life would not be the same and it wasn’t. I am sure Aunt Barb was waiting for her and so very excited to see her.

Uncle Pat, “my brother Pat”, she would always say.

She was simply awestruck by your talent. She was one of your biggest fans and she would tell everyone what a fabulous painter you are. She loved you so much

Aunt Mary Ann, you were her rock and her soul sister. I think the two of you have been together in many lives before. You could finish her sentences, and in my opinion, you will live on always as her extension. I am sure she is already missing you like crazy.

How I like to envision the other side for my mom is this: She enters a room with a huge long table. She has perfect vision and can walk with no pain. To the left is my dad and to the right is Tony and next to him are Aunt Barb and then Grandma and Grandpa and all the aunts and uncles. They are all well and so excited to see her! The table is filled with a feast of favorite foods and wine and flowers. And she has the seat at the head of the table.

And just to the right, there is a door that says “casino”.

In there everyone plays and wins, over and over again.

That would be my mom’s heaven.

Showing this blog as example of how easy this! is!

A blog can be set up for free. I suggest eblogger, part of Google or the new hot one, WordPress at WordPress.com. Both are easy to place into Linked In, Facebook and your website. Both have really great templates that are easy to customize. Again, hire a pro if this is too much for you to do.
Both platforms are user friendly. Once you decide you are going to blog, HAVE A PLAN. What will you cover? Will you be the only blogger? Is one time a week working for you?
And, the best thing about a blog is that it is searchable. Which means to will bring more potential customers to your site. Which will, of course, be listed in your blog info.

Six Key Tasks before you begin:
1. Do a strength test! How strong is your brand?
2. Define your target and create a strategic plan!
3. Keep your key info and key messages consistent. Hire a pro.
4. Maximize and consolidate all Social Media
5. Be authentic. and interesting!
6. Be searchable

My Sister Tina's Vidalia Onion Casserole

By popular demand! The very yummy onion recipe!

4 to 5 Vidalia onions

Salt & Pepper

6 tablespoons butter      

½ cup Ritz crackers

1 ½  cups baby Swiss butter, grated

 

Slice onions and sauté in 3 tablespoons butter until transparent; add salt

and pepper.  Layer half the onions in a 1 ½ quart casserole.

 

Sprinkle with half the cheese.  Place remaining onions over cheese and

sprinkle with remaining cheese.  Cover top with crushed Ritz crackers and

dot with remaining 3 tablespoons butter.  Bake 30 minutes at 325 degrees

serves 10 to 12.

 

Who Gave Fritz a Bath?

A few weeks ago I mentioned to my mom that I had taken Frank (my wiener dog) to get his teeth cleaned. I take him to a place called SmileTech where they do anethesia free cleaning. The woman who owns it (and also does the work) is, in my opinion, just as awesome as Cesar Milan. She lays the dogs on their back in her lap and cleans their teeth with some sort of a laser tool. None of them protest. She is a true alpha dog!

Anyway, Fern’s response was that we all spend too much time on our pet’s hygiene. “Years ago, she said, no one got the dog’s teeth cleaned.” So, I asked, who gave Fritz a bath? Fritz was our wiener dog from my childhood. I think I was in the sixth grade when we got him. I asked her if she remembered ever giving him a bath. We had the dog for about 12 years. In that time, I personally have no recollection of doing anything but occasionally feeding him some Alpo. But come on, he had to have a bath in 12 years, right?

Fern could not remember ever giving him a bath! She feed him, let him in and out and even took care of him when she accidentally ran over him in the drive way. I asked Tina and no, she had no memory, nor did Gina and Vince had a vague memory…something about the stationary tubs in the basement. Hmmm, such a mystery.

We were all stumped. That’s when I found this amazing photo. Seems that a least one time Dad gave Fritz a bath. In the stationery tubs. While Vince watched! I’m pretty sure their was a photo taken because this was a highly unusual event. Dad never did anything except work. He hardly changed the channels on the TV (pre remote control) if someone else was available to do it for him. And I never remember him going to the basement for anything.

He was not the sort of Dad that watered the lawn or cleaned the gutters. He was a dad who always “knew a guy” who could do whatever we needed. I guess on that day he was without resources. I’m guessing he was home, the dog was dirty and Mom said, Lou, give Fritz a bath and on that day, he said ok. A true Kodak moment!

JOY

I was having dinner on my deck tonight when the song “Dancing Queen” began playing from the unit next door. Nicole, a single mother and her 5 year old daughter Megan live there. They almost always keep to themselves. Megan seems unusually shy and quiet. And Nicole is a bit of a germaphobe, so Megan is never out in the courtyard playing with the other kids.
After listening to the song more intently, I figured out that they were doing a workout tape. And as they got into the next song (Knock Three Times, by Tony Orlando and Dawn), they started to sing and laugh. And by the time they got to “Some Kinda Wonderful”, they were in a full-on joyful mother daughter moment that was so exquisite, I could actually feel it.

Motherlove…there is nothing like it!