When Do All Children Count?

The recent Casey Anthony verdict has left me a little perplexed.  This week we celebrated Independence Day in America and the truths that we as a country hold so dear were put to the test. 

A jury of her peers found Casey Anthony not guilty and yet the country is outraged.  The media has spent thousands of hours on every detail of this case and people feel justice has not been served. I have a different take on the matter.  Justice was served, she was found not guilty, and we as a country should move on. 

Moreover, I beg to question that if the child in question had been Black or Latino would this make national headlines and would people be wailing that a child had died or that a senseless act of violence had taken place?

Sweet Honey in the Rock’s Ella’s Song truly resonates with me and that is the song in my heart today.

 We who believe in freedom cannot rest

We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes

Until the killing of Black men, Black mothers' sons

Is as important as the killing of white men, white mothers' sons

To me young people come first, they have the courage where we fail

And if I can but shed some light as they carry us through the gale

The older I get the better I know that the secret of my going on

Is when the reins are in the hands of the young, who dare to run against the storm

So, again my question is…..when do all our children count?

Do your clothes tell the story of who you are?

I just read a delightful book “The Secret Lives of Dresses” that put me in the mind of my mother.  The book brought back many conversations I had with mom about how one is supposed to dress.

The memories were often like this:  As I would be getting dressed to go out somewhere she would peer over her glasses and ask, “Is that what you’re wearing?”  When I would defiantly say, “Yes," she would just look at me and sniff and say, “Hmm.”

Worse yet, she might ask, “Do you really want someone to see you in that?”  Truth be told she was often right.  The moment I left the house looking ‘schleppy’ would be the one time I would run into someone that I didn’t want to be seen looking like that.

Yet, somehow, I managed to survive the comments and develop my own self of style.  I love dresses and am truly a throwback to an era of wearing dresses rather than pants.

That is why I enjoyed “The Secret Lives of Dresses”.  Each dress had a story.  So what’s your style?  Do your clothes tell the story of who you are?  

Fashion fades, only style remains the same ~ Coco Chanel

Book clubs….Whatcha Reading?

As I watched the first of the three-day goodbye to Oprah, it brought back so many memories of watching the show with my mom.

My favorite memory of the Oprah show through the years was that she made reading cool.  I had started a book club with a group of friends before Oprah kicked off hers.  However, it was not until Oprah started talking about book clubs that reading became in vogue and I was no longer alone in the quest for good books.

All of sudden my mother started telling her friends that her daughter was in a book club. 

My mother even helped me host a book club meeting and cooked all the food to coincide with the book we were reading.  Yeah, Oprah validated book clubs for my mother.  Ahh…. Her show will be missed….

Who Wants To Know?

The recent event with Maria Shriver’s marriage reminds me of my mother’s caution of having too many people in your business and broadcasting your personal life.

The news this week has been filled with the so-called scandal of a cheating husband, a wronged wife, a mistress, and children caught in the crossfire.  But….the real question is…  Why is this our business?  There is absolutely no reason that this should have dominated the airwaves this week. 

If someone asked my mother a question that she truly felt was none of their business, her retort would be “Who wants to know.”  Even if the person answered, “I do,” she would then ask again with even more pepper in her voice, “What do you need this information for?”  This would usually shut the person up and they would never get the ‘gossip’ or the inside dirt that they were seeking.

Once again, my mother was right!  Why do we care to celebrate in people’s misery and shame?  We should look to honor their privacy and let people live their lives in peace.

When you are in trouble, people who call to sympathize are really looking for the particulars. ~ Edgar Watson Howe, Country Town Sayings, 1911

Book Trailer

The Angel

Happy Mother's Day!!! I wanted to repost this as a wonderful tribute to Mothers everywhere

A baby asked God, "They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?"


"Your angel will be waiting for you and will take care of you."


The child further inquired, "But tell me, here in heaven I don't have to do anything but sing and smile to be happy."


God said, "Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you. And you will feel your angel's love and be very happy."


Again the child asked, "And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me if I don't know the language?"


God said, "Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak."


"And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?"


God said, "Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray."


"Who will protect me?"


God said, "Your angel will defend you even if it means risking it's life."


"But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore."


God said, "Your angel will always talk to you about Me and will teach you the way to come back to Me, even though I will always be next to you."


At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from Earth could be heard and the child hurriedly asked, "God, if I am to leave now, please tell me my angel's name."


"You will simply call her, 'Mom.'"

~Unknown

A Daughter’s First Sorrow

I was watching the View yesterday as they were discussing the upcoming Mother’s Day Holiday. One of the hosts, Whoopi Goldberg, choked up as she reflected on this being the first Mother’s Day without her mom.

Watching the show, it immediately sent me back in time to that first Mother’s Day when I realized that Mom was not there in the flesh. I remember sitting at Mass and when they passed around the carnations, red for the living, white if they had died, I started to sob. Ohhh how I cried and had such a deep sense of sorrow. Thankfully, friends held me and let me have my moment to grieve.

So for those of you who are experiencing the first …take a deep breath! Honor your mother in a way that would suit the both of you and cry if you must and laugh if you can. Peace

The Easter Basket

Happy Easter!  Growing up Easter was one of my favorite holidays.  My mother would never buy one of those prepackaged Easter baskets that they sell in stores.  She made one huge Easter basket for the entire family.  The basket would be layered with everyone’s favorite Easter candy and in the center was the huge chocolate bunny.  Now here was the catch.  The entire family could partake in the Easter basket but the chocolate bunny was all hers.  In fact, I remember waiting very impatiently for her to break off the bunny so   that we could all have a piece.  She would laugh and tell us that we had the whole basket so we could wait until she was ready.  Yup I learned to have a lot of patience waiting for the Easter Bunny.  Have a great holiday

Inspiration

In Memory Of A Saint: Lessons From My Mother I Didn’t Pay Attention to Until She Died” manifested itself after my mother’s death in 2003.  In 1996 after my mother sold our family home, she moved in with me.  It was a necessary move as she began dealing with her declining health and having to adjust to the altered lifestyle that came with a weakened heart.

When you are living with an aging parent, the lines between parent and child often become blurred.  Yet my mother’s fight and spirit always reminded me that through and through she was still in charge in her own way.  My mom would often say to me “you won’t know the use of your behind until it’s sore,” which was her colloquial way of saying “you will miss me when I am gone.”

So after her passing, I realized how true her statements were.  After her death, I would reach out wanting to talk to her and ask her advice and realized that she was no longer here.  This was further evidenced by my friends, who would call to reminisce about Mom and the advice that she gave them, or a shared joke that they had and how they had treasured the true importance and wisdom of her words.  It was then that her words really sunk in — we really do take our loved ones for granted until after they are gone.  That became the inspiration for this book.