Veteran's Day Memorial

I was walking through the library at lunchtime a few weeks ago and as usual checked out the window boxes for the Veteran's Memorial. I excused myself as I stepped in front of a gentlemen who was standing close. As I finished checking out the memorabilia the gentlemen asked me a question, "Why did you stop?" I told him I stopped often because I had seen a photo of my Uncle Benny once and that I always find the display very touching. He asked me a few questions, took my picture and then in early November, he wrote this article.

Library memorial – By Cliff Radel for the Cincinnati Enquirer.

Last year, 1,408,323 patrons used the downtown public library – and, entered a war memorial. The entire building is dedicated to Hamilton County veterans who lost their lives in conflicts beginning with World War I.
Thirsty for knowledge, throngs of people pass by the Veterans Memorial display in the library’s lobby. Few stop.
Prudence Hunt visits at least once a week. “To me, this memorial is for all veterans,” the legal secretary from Fairfax said in hushed tones, “It is a place of remembrance and celebration.”
She always remembers her uncle and she celebrates the freedoms he fought for and lost his life defending. “He was the first soldier from Newport to be killed in the Korean War,” she said of her uncle, Benjamin Bristow. He was just 19.”
She looked at the Great Seal of the United States, dated “1954” and set in a brass circle on the floor. Her eyes followed the words inscribed on the seal’s rim:
“Dedicated to the many of Hamilton County who while in the armed forces gave life itself for God and country.”
She looked from the seal to an open book in one of the memorial’s display cases. That’s the book of homage. It lists the name of every Hamilton County veteran killed in combat since World War I. Every week, the case is opened and the page is turned. Another list of heroes appears.
Hunt read the names on the page in silence. They reminded her of her uncle.
“I have his uniform and the telegram my grandmother got from the government when he was killed,” she said. “I even have some of the records he made while he was over in Korea. They made those records instead of writing letters.”
The records made it home after his mother learned he had been killed.
“No one’s ever listened to those records,” Hunt said. The sound of her uncle’s voice was too painful for her grandmother to hear. After all of these years, the pain still lingers. Hunt can’t bear to listen to the records either.
“I’m going to give his things to the library,” Hunt said. “I don’t want them to die with me. I want them – and his memory – to live on.”

Sweeney Update

The Sweeneys will be playing at the Cincinnati Celtic Festival on Fountain Square on October 3, 2010. I am delighted to be playing and I don’t feel the least bit guilty for having booked us. We work hard and we love sharing our music. Plus, I booked us at no charge to the festival so it’s a win-win. Booking the others was fun….in the beginning. However, I now know why booking agents are paid. Its all the crazy questions, requests, and demands that we receive that make us second guess our efforts.

On a personal/band note, the band we call the Sweeneys is taking a hiatus after the Celtic Festival. Tim will be working on some solo projects and enjoying his new granddaughter. Peg & Jim & I will continue to play as Arabella until Tim's return. The difference in the groups has to do with the energy that Tim brings to the band. Arabella is softer and performs more ballads. Tim drives the Sweeneys in upbeat, fun music that makes us shake the stage as we all get into the songs.

Ladybug, Ladybug, Fly Away Home

My latest quilt, simply called “Ladybug” was sewn and quilted with the intention of donation. Tim Kelly's niece, Katie, put together an amazing charity to help Children’s Hospital in Cincinnati. Her son, Spencer, was born with a brain tumor and thanks to the amazing doctors at Children’s, he is a healthy, rambunctious toddler. Katie Kelly Shipley formed Spencer’s Army to raise funds to enable the hospital to help many more children. The least I could do was donate a quilt. I don’t have much money but I do have hands that can help.

Oh, My!

How can it possibly be more than a month since I posted a blog? I originally thought I would have at least 5 entries per week, if not more. Now my life is so busy that I can’t find time to write about it. I know its narcissistic to want to but that’s what it is. I love writing and blogs are fun. What more can I say?

College Essay #1

I finally was graded on my very first college essay. We were to write about an epiphany we have had in our lifetime. I submitted it almost a month ago and I've been a nervous wreck waiting to see my grade and read the professor's comments. He liked it and even said he was moved. Wow, I couldn't ask for better than that. I received an A!!!

As for the photos, I've added a few from the 54 times I have moved in 57 years. Actually for the past 18, I have lived in the same house so the first 53 were before I turned 40. The last one is from the condo overlooking the ocean from when I was "poor".

Misreading the Signs Along the Way

There had always been signs that we were poor, but as a happy child, I paid them no notice. We might have had less than what others had,but children were starving in faraway China and just down the road in Appalachia and we were not. My stepfather said poor was a term for people whose obstacles were insurmountable. He instilled in us the concept that we could be anything we set our minds to and no obstacle should stand in our way.

Because we moved often from apartment to apartment in the river city of Newport, it seemed only sensible that we did not have many material objects. Our basic possessions were well cared for and we owned them outright. We kept ourselves tidy and clean and most importantly, we had good manners and good ethics. All seven of us could squeeze into the cab of our pickup truck when the back with filled with furniture and household items. My grandparents and two of my aunts, who believed walking was more sensible, didn’t even own a car. Poor people couldn’t possibly afford such a usual vehicle.

I didn’t even notice the signs that others had more when I left the heat of the city to spend summers with my relatives in the country. To me they were only richer than we were because they did not move every year and at their house, I shared a bed with my cousins and didn’t have to sleep on the sofa like at home. For two lovely weeks in the summer we enjoyed a backyard with grass where we could run through sprinklers and play. Best of all, no one made us drink a full glass of water before each meal or mirror each forkful of food with a bite of bread. For family vacations, Lou would load us in the back of the pickup where we would ride on top of a bed of straw covered by blankets. We would travel to a state park where we strung up a lean-to between trees. Hotdogs on sticks were roasted over a campfire after a day of fishing and swimming in a nearby lake. Tom Sawyer would have envied our fun.

We did not even feel poor at Christmastime. To make holiday cash, our family would take the pickup truck to a nursery and my stepfather and my brothers would spend the day cutting fresh pines that we sold in empty lots downtown. With that money in hand, all five of us would tag along with Mother on Christmas Eve and shiver outside of stores as she bought presents. After shopping we would rush home to enjoy warm cocoa and cookies. We felt as rich as kings as we trimmed our own little tree with popcorn strings and ornaments made from tin foil.

We were not at all like the sad children that we saw on television with raggedy clothes and dirty faces. My mother bought me new five dresses at the end of the summer so I would have one for each day of school. The day before class began, we’d trek to Tom McCann’s for our new pair of shoes. Mother made us take good care of them so we would slip them off each afternoon when we came home. Bare feet were fine for running around the house.

Living quarters were always tight in our small apartments in the city but we managed to fit in whatever space we found. My four brothers always shared the second bedroom while I, with pillow and blanket, would stretch out on the sofa trying to sleep as my parents watched television. Most nights I was awake when the Al Schottlekotte Spotlight Report began at 11 p.m.

When I started high school we moved to yet another apartment with only two bedrooms but this time I had a place of my own. Actually it was just the end of the hallway but I was moving up in the world. Mother bought a twin bed mattress, hung up a curtain and at last I had a bedroom. Somehow still the signs of our poverty were not flashing in my mind. It was not until I was invited to the homes of classmates that those signs began to appear. My girlfriends lived in one-family houses with bedrooms of their own, adorned with pink bedspreads and lacy curtains. Their curtains were so fine, frilly and surely expensive that I was almost afraid to touch them. My own curtains were plastic and easily replaceable by a quick trip to the dollar store.

I was shocked to watch my friends just walk to the fridge and take out a pop or grab a snack from the pantry. At my house, we never had to think about what to eat. Dinner was whatever mother made so there was no need to stand with the refrigerator door wide open. We knew that our fridge held only milk, butter, and day old bread.

It was during my second year of high school that I began to heed the signs that we had so much less than others. I became self-conscious of our plastic curtains and plastic dishes. Unlike my friends, our pantry was never full and we bought our dinner groceries every day. Mother had to wait until Lou came home to send us to the store, hoping that he had made money that day. If not, she would send us to the market with one of her keepsake silver dollars. She had three of them, one dated 1884 representing her father’s birth year, 1898 for her mother and 1926 when she was born. My brothers would ask the storeowner if they could buy the silver dollars back on Friday when mother was paid. Thanks to his kindness her treasures were always returned with Friday’s groceries.

After my brothers were grown, I had to make the trip to the store often with the same request. On one such Friday, while waiting for the walk light, I looked up at our plastic curtains blowing out of an open window. The signs in my mind flashed more brightly than that traffic light saying, “You are poor”. “You are poor,” they shouted as I climbed the four flights of stairs with our dinner. “I am poor,” I moaned as I dropped the grocery bag on the kitchen table.

Having finished high school, with no hopes of college, I took the easy road to success and married a man with money. We lived in a condominium overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. He bought me a diamond ring and a car that was shiny and new and I had more than five dresses. We vacationed in Europe and skied in the Rockies. “Finally,” I thought to myself, “I am no longer poor.” However, the signs in my head only flashed more brightly. He had married me for my looks and I had married him to have what I thought were the right things. Neither of us was happy so the right things became the wrong things. I knew that I was now truly poor.

I left the possessions I foolishly believed would give me joy and once again had little. No matter. I still had good manners and slightly tarnished ethics, and still had the love of my family. I had never really been poor. The proper signs had always been there but I had listened with my head and not with my heart. As my stepfather had said, poor describes people whose obstacles are insurmountable. I, however, am rich.

Time to Find Time

I haven't been blogging lately. I've just been too busy. Sadly not all of it has been fun stuff and a bit of depression seemed to creep in. I need to write, it purges my soul and helps me deal with the good and the bad in the world.

Even though late July and early August have been rough, there have been some very good moments as well. The bus trip to Chicago was great and I had a little bit of quiet time to enjoy. I just walked around the city and skipped the museums and shopping meccas. I enjoy the diversity of neigbhorhoods and landscapes and took some great photos of the boats on the lake in early light.

I must find more time to write...I miss it.

A Hero's Farewell

I attended the funeral of a hero today. Spc. Russell Madden was the son of a friend. Russell's father, Marty, and my husband, Jim, both attended grade school together in Bellevue and after high school played in the same rock band for a few years. That's how I met Marty, when I started dating Jim and hanging around their band practices and gigs.

I never met Russell but by the way he was described in the media, he must have been much like his father . Marty was always the happy band member, joking with me and the other girlfriends and taking time to befriend my young daughters. For some reason I can't remember, they called him "Cupcake".

I was on my great detour when Russell was born but through the stories I have heard, he was an amazing man. He was a football hero, friend to many, father, husband and brave soldier.

It was touching to see the outpouring of support and love today. The military was clearly proud of their brother in arms and demonstrated profound respect. The roar of the motorcycles, ridden by the Patriot Guard Riders, moved the soul.

I am not Catholic and have only attended about a dozen Catholic funeral masses but the mass today, with 8 priests, a monsignor and a bishop was an honor to the character and commitment of Russell. Incense carried prayers to heaven as music and voices filled the air. Two young sons, dressed in camo fatigues, placed roses on their father's casket. God was present in that place.

Along the funeral procession to the St. Stephens, cars pulled to the side of the road, in respect. We passed strangers who stood with hands in salute and some with tears in their eyes.

At the cemetery, we cried with the Maddens. We cried at the folding of the flag, the presentation of flags to Russell's wife, father, mother and sons. We stood proud, some weeping as his fellow soldiers fired a 21 gun salute and a distant bugler played taps. We gave our condolences to Marty and his family but words seemed so meaningless at such a moment.

We were proud to be there. Proud to be in the company of our fallen hero, Russell Madden. But we were also proud to be in the company of all the men and women in uniform who were not only there to serve their fellow soldier but to serve us each day. We pray that they will not have to pay the same ultimate sacrifice, even though we know they would.

God Bless America and God Bless Russell Madden.

Simple Pleasures

Tonight I went to dinner with two friends, Carol and Jo, to celebrate their mutual birthday. We ate outside at a lovely restaurant near Hyde Park Square, an upscale community close to our homes. We shared a bottle of wine with dinner then strolled past the shops, window shopping as we headed for coffee. Once again we sat outside enjoying our coffee and desserts while we chatted for hours. It was the first day of summer and I will remember this solstice for quite awhile, knowing it will be among the best days of 2010.

Al & Tipper

I was so sad to hear that Al & Tipper Gore were separating. As many other people commented, they seemed like the perfect couple. I met them both in 1997 and they fit their descriptions to a tee. He was stiff and robotic and she was prettier in person and quite charming.

No one knows what can cause two people to grow apart but I hope for them, their children and grandchildren that they stay good friends nonetheless. It gives the rest of us hope, too.

The Gathering at the Breaks - Day One

Jim dropped me off at Roberta's house exactly at 7:30 a.m. on Sunday morning, April 25th. Mary Ann was already there and packed so we were on our way in just a few minutes. Following the google map, we drove on one of the skinniest mountain roads I've ever seen and decided that on our way home we would look for a wider route.

We pulled into The Breaks exactly at noon, gave hugs all around for old friends and began to make new ones. Not able to check in until 1:00 p.m., we started the gathering off with a meet and greet for an hour then drove up to the set of rooms that had been hand picked for our group. The views were breathtaking. I will have to warn that it would not be comfortable for anyone with a fear of heights!

In the afternoon we had a workshop on songwriting, a delicious dinner at the Lodge restaurant and then a "swarp", the Appalachian equivalent of our ceilidhes.

Summerfair 1974

My ex-husband, Chris, posted baby photos of Chandra for her 37th birthday.

I wanted to post this photo in particular as it shows one of the last Summerfairs at Eden Park. It was an awesome "hippie" event back in the day.

It is now an upstanding and respected arts festival but for us, in the 70's, it was a "Happening". You knew all of your friends would be there taking in the great rock music and being part of thousands of interesting people roaming about.

For Cincinnati, it was the original "party in the park".

Mimi Weekend

I spent the last weekend in February at my daughter's home, taking care of her four children while she and her husband had a well deserved trip out of town.

Nick came over with me and joined Megan, Chase and Brody in the media room to play endless hours of video games and watch movies while little Kalee and I worked on one of my quilts. She was very attentive and loved my colored threads. When we weren't sewing, we watched the skating review and Kalee spun around the room, putting her arms in the air like the skaters.

Being a grandmother is a gift, just plain and simple, its a gift from God.

Sweeneys at the Covington Library

Our band, the Sweeneys, was honored to be asked back to perform at the Covington Library on Saturday, February 27th to kick off their St. Patrick's Day/March celebration.

We played an hour's worth of Irish and Scottish themed songs. We had a great time and loved seeing familiar faces in the audience.

The Sweeneys are Tim Kelly on bouzouki & guitar, me on vocals & guitar, Jim Hunt on bodhran and percussion and Peg Buchanan on fiddle. We have fun.

Happy Birthday to Me

Today is my 57th birthday. Wow, just like everyone else I know, I find it hard to believe that so many years have flown by. There are few complaints about the first 57th because I believe that we learn from mistakes and mishaps. I will continue to work at being the best that I can be and to try and pack in as much as possible in each moment the good Lord grants me. I appreciate all the good wishes and happy thoughts sent my way today.

The Music Cafe - February 23, 2010

I was honored to be asked back to the Music Cafe at the Fitton Center in Hamilton. The volunteers and the audience are warm, inviting and generous. I actually sold four CD's!!! Jim joined me on percussion and we were requested to do The Mirror which is a Music Cafe favorite. I attempted Anathea for the first time and it went over just fine. We can tweak it and with Peg's fiddle and Tim's harmonica it could be a great Sweeney song.

I was surprised that Always Thinking of You was the most commented song last night and it was the reason we sold four CD's. Thanks to our grandkids for inspiring that song!

Montreal Extras #1

A few more photos from Montreal

Nick and me at the steak house

Montreal - Part Four

Sunday, February 14, 2010
Happy Valentine’s Day

Our final day in Montreal began with one last breakfast of oatmeal and raisin toast and then packing and loading bags and instruments on the bus. We picked up an interesting young man named Ronald who gave us a guided tour of Montreal including Saint Catherine’s Street, Mount Royal, St. Joseph’s Oratroy, The Old Port and Jacque Cartier Place. He explained not just what we were seeing but what we were experiencing during our trip. It was great to learn that the long, long dinners were custom and not slow service. We learned that Montreal had an extremely low crime rate, has more festivals than any other north American city and that you can move through most of the downtown without coming up from the underground. The underground is a series of subways, shopping malls and travel corridors built below the streets. We shopped and had lunch just under St. Catherine Street which is the main shopping area in Montreal. I was surprised that there was so much going on underground given that the street level sidewalks were packed, as well, when we were there.
After lunch we were invited to an Open Dress Rehearsal with West Island Youth Symphony. Their symphony orchestra consisted of not just strings but also horns, woodwinds and percussion. Wow, they were phenomenal, performing both the Butterfly Lovers and the Firebird while we listened and watched in awe. We had a brief social gathering in which our kids didn't really talk to their kids but sadly stayed in their normal little cliches. The kids from both orchestras posed for a group photo and then we boarded the bus for the long ride to Niagara Falls.

Monday, February 15, 2010

We had spent the night on the American side of the Falls but in the morning we passed back into Canada for a performance at the Visitor's Grand Hall beside Table Rock above the Falls. The kids played better than ever and the sound was amazing in spite of the fact they were surrounded by glass and marble. Visitors from all over the globe listened, took photos and recorded the Mariemont High School Orchestra. I got chills thinking that they would now be seen all over the world. Thus we decided they need a banner indicating who they are and where they are from. We chaperones plan to work on that project this Spring.

After lunch and a tour behind Horseshoe Falls, we were back on our bus for what we had hoped would be an 8 hour drive home. Due to the heavy snowfall in southern Ohio, our trip instead took more than 12 hours. We stopped in Mansfield, Ohio for dinner and were informed that I-71 was shut down near Columbus due to a large pileup of cars. John headed back north to a route he knew and we reached Lima, Ohio then headed south on I-75 instead. The roads weren't too bad until we reached Dayton, Ohio where the roads were covered with snow. John reassured us that the weight of our bus would help us get through and sleepy parents were called to pick up the kids and cargo at 3:00 a.m.

It was a wonderful adventure!

Montreal - Part Three

With a busy day planned we met in the hotel dining room for an early breakfast before driving two hours to Mont-Tremblant for a day of fun in the snow. It took longer than expected to get rental gear but the kids still had time to hit the slopes. Nick decided to snowboard, thinking that it would be more like skateboarding. After all the kids had boarded ski lifts, we chaperones took to the shops. We also found a warm and inviting pizza restaurant and had a lovely lunch.

Unfortunately, there was trauma before the afternoon was over when three of our students didn't make it back to the bus on time. Two chaperones stayed behind to wait for them, learning that two of the three had just taken a trail that went to the wrong side of the mountain. However, the other missing student had been injured and was taken to the hospital to be checked out. Thankfully, his mother, who was born in Montreal, was one of the chaperones and also spoke french. Her son was a bit shaken and hurt pretty much all over but his tests turned out fine.

Another two hour drive and we were back at the hotel to dress up for our evening at the dinner theater. John the Bus Driver got us as close to the Le Festin Du Gouverneur Dinner Theater in downtown Montreal as possible but we still had an icy, cold walk down a long city block to the warm restaurant. The wind chill must have been about -20 degrees. It was worth the walk becuase the dinner theater recreated a 17th century banquet and once again the kids were included in the show.

We were happy to receive an update on the student at the hospital when we returned to the hotel. His tests all came out clear and he and his mother were on their way back to the hotel.

Montreal - Part Two

Friday, February 12, 2010

After a quick breakfast at our hotel, the orchestra loaded their instruments on the bus and attended an orchestral clinic with Alexis Hauser, Director of the McGill Symphony Orchestra. After the clinic, a young student named Matt gave the kids a tour of McGill University. He made it sound very desirable and more than a few are now considering school in Canada.

Driver John got us safely through the tight streets of old Montreal and the instruments were unloaded at the Basilique for safe keeping while we lunched at the famous restaurant, McDonalds. We finished our yummy lunch (yes, it was better than at home) and spent a moment or two of souvenir shopping and then headed back to the Basilique for a concert in the breathtaking cathedral. After tuning there was no time for the planned guided tour so the docent stood with the orchestra and pointed out the many marvels of the grand basilica.

Just before their performance at 3:00 pm, Chris Davis and I were escorted to the closed, second balcony so we could photograph and videotape the concert. All of the parents and grandparents shed a few tears of joy and pride as the Mariemont High School filled the grand sanctuary with Mozart and other well played pieces.

In preparation of our next adventure, we arrived back at the hotel to change into warm clothes for our one hour bus ride to the Sugar Shack. The bus was greeted by a team of draft horses pulling a large, red sleigh. At the Sucrerie de la Montage we were talked through the steps of sugaring, given a tour of the bread cabin where 90 loaves a day are made from scratch by a gentleman in his 80’s, which was followed by a feast in the largest cabin. We learned during our tour of Montreal that dinner out is a social event in itself. The courses are individual and spaced so there is time to take pleasure in the food, the company and the conversation. Nothing was rushed as we spent over two hours just enjoying the many courses which included the freshly baked bread, pea soup, mashed potatoes, sausages, quiche, meat pies and, of course, for dessert, pancakes with fresh syrup.

Music was provided by a very entertaining French speaking host who actually had the kids singing, dancing and marching through the room. Fun was had by all!

Montreal - Part One

Wednesday, February 10th

School was closed for a snow day so we gathered at Mariemont High School at 1:45 p.m. to give the orchestra time to run through their Mozart once more. As the kids arrived we collected their information and passports and were ready to board the motor coach when it arrived. We left the school grounds just a bit after 4:00 p.m. and headed for Erie, PA where we made our first driver switch at 11:00 pm before heading east to Syracuse, New York, then north into Canada.

Thursday Morning, February 11th

We made it to the Canadian border at 3 a.m. and everyone was asked to wake up and sit with passport in hand as the customs agent came through the bus. She asked a few questions and then sent us on our way. We made our last driver change in Brockton. The kids loved John, the driver who would be with us for the rest of trip. As he got out of his car, the kids noted his pony tail, his boots and his cowboy hat and for some reason he was dubbed "Chuck Norris". He fit the bill with his long rider coat and his deep voice. As the trip progressed, he definitely lived up to the name as he maneuvered us through some mighty tight streets and highways.

We picked up our tour guide, Gary Mandel (yes, he is related to Howie), who first took us to breakfast at Brisket Montreal just a bit after 9:00 a.m. The restaurant was ready for us and served up plates of steaming french toast and fruit.

After the museum we were dropped off for some free time in Old Town Montreal where we strolled the cobbled streets and checked out the many shops. Even though we had just eaten, the kids decided to stop in at Crepe Suzette, a little restaurant with mouth watering crepes and soups.

We met up with our bus and drove to the Hotel du Fort to change for dinner at the a LeBifteque Butchershop for a marvelous steak dinner.

Last but not least for our first day in Canada, we were treated to a concert by the Arion Baroque Orchestra at Redpath Hall at McGill University. The musicians were so precise it could have been a recording but not only did they play beautifully, the stories with the songs sounded much more intriguing due to their heavy, but lovely, accents.

Finally, back to the hotel for some much needed rest.

Kitchen Fever

Jim did a lot of work on my kitchen this past weekend. We have the base cabinets in place and the countertop is set. Our new black stove comes on Friday.

We had a bit of a set back when the new countertop was installed. Seems the base cabinet under the sink area is smaller than the former and our large stainless steel sink did not fit. We found another tonight that we like so tomorrow we install the new sink and faucet. After that the doors will go on the base cabinets, then handles and then I can put everything back. We will also need to replace the cabinet we installed over the stove because the new over-the-range microwave needs more space. Thank goodness for the IKEA rail system because we only need to detach from the rail and put up the new.

I also have to finish the tiles on the kitchen floor and decide on a wall color. Next a new kitchen exterior door and there's a black dishwasher that caught my eye. This will hold us until spring when we are going to take it all down, refinish the walls and put a window over the sink. We discovered that there had been one there years ago (more than 20) and we will have to open the hole on the inside and cut through the siding on the outside. Ya gotta love old houses! So much to do but we're doing our best!

Pinwheel Quilt

I'm working on another baby quilt. This one is made of bright pinwheels and will be quilted with bright purple, blue and pink threads. I am also working on my charm quilt which consists of different fabric for every square. So far I have 144 squares in the project and thanks to Julie and Jo, I have more pieces to put in.

Snow

I left home once again this morning to a light snow. It was dry and soft and made me think of fairy dust. I brushed it off the windshield and windows with just a sweep of my glove.
Nick had hoped for enough for a snow day from school which seemed just a bit greedy after a two week holiday break but snow days are precious jewels of childhood. Complaints of icy bus stops are forgotten when the choice is one's own on whether to go outside or stay indoors.
However, today's snow was just enough for a soft blanket of white covering the gray landscape of winter. I smiled all the way to work.

Happy New Year

It was snowing today as I left for work...tiny, gentle snowflakes. Ahhh, I love snow.

I try to empathize with those who do not. It's cold, it's slippery, it disrupts lives. However, we choose to live in a climate that promises snow in the winter and unbearable heat in the summer. I bite my tongue when others complain, wanting to tell them to move somewhere else if they despise the inevitable. I respect that everyone has the right to their own feelings but for me, I love each flake.

I miss the winters I spent in Idaho where it stayed white and fluffy, piled high for months on end. There was never a disparaging word about snow when we lived near a ski resort. I am not able to live there now and I miss it. In truth, like anywhere else, we had a trade off in Idaho. The summers were short, springs were muddy and we had no lovely fall foliage.

I admit that I am guilty of whining about the heat and humidity when July and August roll around but I choose to live here so I guess I'll just have to think of winter as sweat beats on my brow. Ahh, I love snow.