Crying

We lived in a predominately Polish neighborhood. Like any ethnic group they were distrustful of new people, So it took a while for us to be accepted. 

My youngest brother and youngest sister assimilated faster because they all went to school together. There were children their ages in the neighborhood.

We are not Catholic. Most of the Poles in our community were. We did not attend the same church although there is a beautiful Catholic church on the next block.

My parents were solid people who lived a quiet life. Daddy was charismatic so once people got to know him they were drawn to him.

Mom was quiet but you could feel her strength. She was also accepted and trusted.

There were no children of the same age group as my children. My boys played baseball Most of the boys were Polish but they did not live nearby.

My daughter joined a dance class. They learned traditional Polish dances like the Polonaise and Krakowiak. 

In order for her to attend we had to have insurance policies from the Polish salesman. The mothers were required to join the dancers' Mothers Club.

We paid weekly dues. We made sure each child had an authentic Polish costume. A couple of the women sewed and for a modest price made the skirt and vest. The blouses were simply a white blouse,

The headpieces were expensive. For recitals we had them made at the local flower shop with real flowers. They were a ring of flowers with colorful ribbons down the back.

The Mothers' Club funds helped pay for some of the expenses. That meant we held fund raisers each year. 

Selling candy, selling gift wrap, and even cheesecakes had been moderately successful. We needed to find something new.

I suggested that we make phone calls to mothers for Mothers Day. We would find appropriate poems and call on Mother Day to give the poem chosen as a phone message of love.

We charged a small fee. We made a list of who to call, which poem to recite, and who it was from. We divided them up and on Mothers Day we made our calls.

The mothers all seemed so pleased.

Then my brother's friend who I had known since he was very young burst in. He wanted to know what I had done to upset his mother.

I had made my call and she was crying so hard. He was so upset that I had made his mother cry. I apologized even though I was puzzled as to what I had done. He left in a huff.

Soon he was back. He apologized profusely. He had soothed his mother and found out why she cried.

She had been so touched that her son loved her so much. She loved the poem. She loved her son.

I think that call alone made the whole thing worthwhile.

Disagree

 There is no one anywhere with whom I always agree.

I have my own mind, my own thoughts, and my own beliefs. Most of my beliefs came from my parents. I did not always agree with them.

I had experiences in my life that caused me to make decisions. Those things will attach to the way you view the world. Not everyone has had those experiences.  Those who have may have viewed them differently. That makes a different way of looking at things.

One of the most satisfying things about being a mother has been watching my children develop their own sets of values. They often do not agree but they still care for each other.

In today's world I see politics as something that is causing such harsh feelings. Too many people are not willing to accept that others might have a different point of view. 

Families are becoming estranged. Good friends no longer speak to each other. 

I have 4 children. One of them shares my political beliefs...mostly. The other three are completely opposite... mostly.

I love all my children. We all know what each of us believes. Politics will not change our feelings for each other.

Rather than become a divided family I do not discuss politics with them. We each have others to do that.

Mid-term elections are near for us in the United States. Please research the candidates and remember to vote.

Remembrance

 I watched the ceremony marking 25th anniversary of the attacks of September 11. It was beautiful and very moving.

The event was of course somber. Remembering so many souls who are now gone is by nature sad.

It began with the National anthem. Then a cello player began to play. It was background music and other musicians traded into his place as the ceremony progressed.

There were family members of those who died on September 11 had been chosen to read the names of the victims. Two would read a number of the names. Then they would talk briefly about the person they represented. On to the next two people. They would do the next names.

At the end they played Taps. It is the most heart-wrenching music ever.

The whole process took at least 3 hours. It was so touching.

One thing I noticed about the names is that they represented people from all over the world. I could not tell what specific countries people were from but all continents were there in the names. The whole world was affected.

It made me realize that we can only blame the people who wanted to damage and terrorize everyone else. Not one specific nationality, government, or religion. Luckily I know people from many of the groups I mentioned so I knew enough to make a decision about individuals and not groups.

The tragedy brought the entire world together. I fervently wish we had stayed together.

September 11, 2001

 Most of us in the United States remember where we were on what we all 9/11. That was the day an airplane was flown right into the World Trade Center building.

As we watched the smoke we saw a second plane plow into the second tower of the Trade Center. Ater wondering if the first had been an accident we then knew that both were on purpose.

As we watched the horror we learned that a third plane had gone into the Pentagon which holds the offices of major military officials as well as clerical staff.

Then came the news that passengers who learned that their plane was on its way to the White House. The passengers got together and decided to force the plane down before it could accomplish its mission.

I worked the night shift. So did my sister. We rode together in order to economize. I had dropped her at her house that morning.

I was watching the news before going to bed when they broke in to say there had been an explosion of some sort at the Trade Center. Possibly an airplane had flown into it. Camera crews were immediately dispatched.

As we were watching billows of smoke pour out of the building we saw another plane flying toward the other building. We watched as it slammed into the building. There was immediate smoke and fire.

We still did not know about the other two planes.

I picked up my phone and called my sister. I asked if she had gone to bed. No. Was she watching the news. No, why.

I said, "Someone just declared war on us!"

Then we learned that a third plane had smashed into the Pentagon. Of course we had military in the field not in the Pentagon with their commanders. But the policy makers are in the building.

Then we learned of a fourth plane on the way to the White House. Everyone in the White House had been rushed to safety. The symbolism was immense.

The passengers on that plane contacted their loved ones to say good-bye. Then they rushed the cockpit and overpowered the pilots. They heroically crashed the plane knowing that they would surely die.

All those people in the planes died. Most of the people in the Trade Center died. First responders died. When the World Trade Center buildings collapsed many were injured. And many souls were devastated.

Now it is 25 years later. What was accomplished?

Gold Star

We often hear of Gold Star families. As far as I know that is a fairly new term.

My brother was killed in Vietnam in 1970. He would have been 21 years old if he had lived until his birthday later in the year... just a baby.

There have been so many young people lost to the vulgarism of war.   Wars are usually caused by leaders who want to feel power. Then at least one other leader has to retaliate.

Young people who are trained to fight are sent. Some will be killed, some will be injured, most will have their souls scarred by what they see.

We hear about the warriors. They should be remembered.

But what about their families, friends, and fellow fighters?

My mother was at home and alone when the officers came to tell her. To their credit they stayed with her until my father could get home from his job. Their child was dead.

I was going on vacation with my family. I had long felt that we would be called home for his funeral. I was with my sisters all day because I was leaving that night. 

Daddy met our car to tell us what happened. I rushed into the house to see if Mom needed a doctor or anything. My youngest sister and youngest brother were sitting on the couch in total shock looking lost. 

Mom was nowhere to be seen. She must have taken to her bed.

I took my two very small boys outside so they would not bother anyone. I sat on the steps alone until my husband arrived.

I told him what happened. He was in total disbelief. They were good friends. We took the boys into the house. 

Mom was on the couch between my brother and sister. She wanted to know why I had not said anything to her when I was inside before. I am telling you I did not see her. Maybe I just could not stand to see her cry.

She asked if I would call extended family members for her. Of course.

This tragedy was the only time I had ever seen Daddy cry. He was terribly proud. He was excruciatingly hurt. The officers were there to help us with whatever they could. 

We asked for a military funeral. It was done. They did all the planning. Some of my brother's friends would be pallbearers.

My brother had one friend who went and immediately tried to sign up for military service when my brother was drafted. He just knew he would be there to protect his friend.

He was rejected because he was severely overweight. Immediately he set about losing at least two hundred pounds. As soon as he did he enlisted with the whole purpose of going to Viet Nam to protect his friend.

He was still in Basic Training. The officers informed us that the Army did not release anyone from their training. But they would try. He was a pallbearer. It was a comfort to us.

These are some of so many examples. So many people were affected by my brother's death. My youngest brother was too young to fully comprehend what was happening.

About a year later there was a ceremony to present medals to several of the soldiers from the city who had lost their lives. In a photo taken for the newspaper we all looked like zombies. It is not something you get over.

Needless to say I hate war. There has to be a better way to deal with disagreements.

Skipping School

When I was a senior in high school I developed a rebellious stage. I had always been a very good girl. I was a follower of all the rules.

I still followed my parents' rules. I never rebelled too much.

A couple of friends and I began to skip school.

My grades were good so occasionally missing classes did not hurt my grades.

Often we just went to the house of the girl whose parents both worked. We made pizza and watched TV.

Sometimes we went downtown. Because we were afraid of getting caught we were careful where we went.

One of our favorite places was the courthouse. We reasoned that no one would find us there. We were right.

It was not an exciting place to be. Still we felt so daring.

One time as we walked out of the building I looked up at the bright sky One of the pigeons who lived somewhere up in the outer building did what birds do.

The gigantic sized bird poop hit me right between the eyes.

I have to tell you it felt like someone had thrown a chunk of cement. I had to go back inside to clean my face. How embarrassing.

Measure Your Face

 When I was a young girl every girl was to have one goal in life. Catch a man, marry the man, and have children. My parents did not emphasize anything so silly but we were taught that concept in school.

Glamor magazines and women's magazines told us how to make ourselves more attractive so men would notice us and of course they would be interested if we looked good enough. There were so many beauty tips and instructions on how to act so that men would be interested.

Of course all of this instruction included the fact that men had very fragile egos. A female should not be too smart or the male would be intimidated by her. A female should be demur. If she was too forward or confident it would scare the male.

When I was in the 7th grade we were required to take a home economics course for a semester. This class was packed with all the things needed to turn us into well-rounded young "ladies".

We learned to make a cake from scratch. I had been doing that for my whole life so it was boring. We made a magnificent apron. If I ever decide to sew I would make another because it was an apron that was useful. It even covered the sides of the body. If the cook absent-mindedly wiped her hands (and of course it would be a her) down the sides of her body the apron actually covered the necessary area.

We made a skirt. Mine was a dismal mess. One side was about 6 inches above my knee while the other was about 3 inches above my foot. It was terrible. It was a pretty color though and my mother was able to make something from the material later.

We learned to dry and arrange flowers to make a comfortable home for our man. We learned to properly set a table and serve a meal. Serve from the left, remove from the right. That is how to place a dish in front of the person. Is that not a helpful thing to know?

We learned how to behave on an outing with a man. Listen attentively and always look at him when he speaks. Of course you must not be too forward. Always defer to his wishes. And men like to be considered the protector so you must seem rather helpless. Poor fragile men.

An important thing to know was to change your underwear daily because we were told men have a more developed sense of smell. We must not offend.

Cleanliness is next to something that will be important to that man. We even had to learn to wash our hair. One of the girls had an expensive sweater on that day so she removed it to keep from ruining it. That happened to be the day the janitor walked into the room unannounced. She screamed a lot.

It seemed to me that by the time we were 12 years old we should already know how to do all those things (with the exception of drying and arranging flowers). I thought it was a frivolous class.

But the class was required. There was one thing that I learned there that was fun and funny. It is how to measure your face.

We were told that this was the measure of beauty. It was used to determine if a model had a photogenic face. I hope you try it. It is fun and seems to work quite well.

First you hold your hand up with fingers open. Move your thumb next to your forefinger. It should reach ever so slightly into the first segment of your pointer finger. This is your measuring tool.

From the earlobe to the top of your ear should be as long as the distance from the end of your thumb to the end of your forefinger. Did you try it? Amazing isn't it?

From one corner of your mouth to the other should be the same length. The bottom of your nose to the spot between your eyes is the same. Each eye should be the same from corner to corner. From your eyebrow to the hairline (your forehead) will also be the same.

But the most important measurement is that your face from the side hairline to the other side hairline while going across your eyes should be exactly five units of measurement.

Now I know that models are not supposed to be full-faced these days. That was a long time ago. But how well do you match up to the beauty standard of those days? It was truly important if you wanted to catch that man.