Wanting this post to be about making changes in ones life I started looking for appropriate clip art to express my thoughts. None I could find was fitting for my needs. As I was staring at the wall, thinking about what would be a complement for my writing, my eyes focused on the family room light switch. I liked its simplicity and its capability of reflecting the thoughts I was striving to express.

This light switch has two functions:it can be turned on and it can be turned off. Sometimes in life it is important to make a change – to switch. There are so many examples of this: in our likes and dislikes, in our occupation, in our plans for the future, in our medical care. The list goes on and on. Being capable of change is part of growing up. My particular focus right now is on medical care. As I have covered previously, in mid April I suddenly experienced a left kidney block. Because of the pain involved it has been a rough almost six months as the urologist ran many tests and tried to come up with a course of action. He finally set on a major surgical procedure that was to take place three weeks later in mid September to remove the abscess/cyst that he felt was causing the blockage. At that visit with the urologist I asked him in his twenty years of practice how many cases like mine had he treated. When he replied “maybe two to three” I was taken aback. I asked the surgeon if there was anyone he might recommend for a second opinion. I was amazed at myself for having the courage to ask this question. I liked this doctor but I wanted a second opinion. I was surprised at how quickly he suggested the Chief of Urology at George Washington University Hospital. It took several weeks but I finally got an appointment with Dr J.

Jerry and I brought with us copies of the various scans the local doctor had ordered and summaries of the procedures that either he had ordered or himself performed. When Dr J suggested I have a procedure that would involve drainage of the cyst/abscess to see if that would relieve the blockage we made the decision to switch to this doctor. The local doctor and his Interventional Radiology team had tried three different stents through the blockage which only made the pain more intense. When the local doc suggested to his Intervention Radiology team that an attempt be made to drain the cyst/abscess they said “no, too dangerous”. And yet when Dr J suggested that the GW IR team try draining the cyst, we felt such confidence in Dr J that Jerry and I agreed with the planned drainage.

We had a tele med conference with the head of the GW Intervention Radiology team. He put on the screen the scan which clearly showed the blockage and a very misshapen left kidney. We were impressed by this doctor’s clarity and competence. Two days later I was admitted to GW for the drainage procedure which never took place. While I was lying on the OR table in the Radiology lab and the anesthesiologist was prepping me, the head of the IR team ordered a further scan to check the exact location of the cyst/ abscess and then he ordered another scan. I was aware of his intense studying of the scans. Finally he said to me that he had talked with Dr J and informed him that he was not going ahead with the drainage procedure – the GW scans showed NO sign of the cyst/abscess.

A week later I was back at GW for a procedure where Dr J removed the ureter stent which had been put in place by my first urologist and then he did a cystoscopy of the kidney examining it and the ureter in detail. When I woke up after the procedure and had to pee it was amazing – it did not hurt. This was the first time since mid April, except for the two weeks when I had a tube in my back which drained urine into an external bag, that I had no pain on urination. It has now been several weeks that I have been pain free. It is pretty amazing. Suppose I had not switched urologists and the first urologist had gone ahead with the major surgery he was proposing. I am so glad I switched.

Dr J ordered one more cat scan to take place about three weeks after the above hospital visits. Though I continued to feel good I must confess to being a little nervous that this final scan would show that the cyst/abscess was attempting to make a comeback. Yesterday I read the report of that scan. It went into great detail but the words that filled me with gratitude read: “The previously seen 7.0×5.5cm complex cyst … has completely resolved…currently both kidneys maintain normal size and shape.” Dr J says he has never seen anything like this. He does not knows what happened, but Jerry and I do. It is the power of prayer. I am grateful for the love and prayerful support of so many.

As Masaru Emoto says:” No one particular religion has been able secure the exclusive rights for the power of prayer. No matter who you are, we all have the ability to take advantage of this amazing and wonderful power.”

A day etched vividly in my memory

So much has happened in these last twenty years – a mix of happiness, sadness and pure joy. In June of 2001 our youngest daughter, Meg, was married. It was a beautiful wedding that reflected the caring and the specialness of Meg and her husband Brendan. In the summer weeks that followed we often reflected on the happiness of this occasion. And then came September 11.

Jerry and I had been in Massachusetts for the funeral of a dear cousin. As we were approaching New Jersey on the return drive we decided to stop and visit our Aunt Bette , a truly amazing woman. In her upper 90’s Aunt Bette was still full of the spark and enthusiasm that had made her a very successful art teacher and then art supervisor in the public schools. It was such a fun visit that when she asked us to spend the night we happily said “yes.” Next morning we were sitting at breakfast with Aunt Bette when the woman who was her daytime companion and helper arrived for work. She asked if we had heard of the plane crash into the World Trade Center some place in Europe, she was not sure exactly where. Jerry and I looked at one another – we did not know of any World Trade Center in Europe. Our thoughts were of the World Trade Center in New York City where our son Jerry’s law firm had its offices. With Aunt Bette’s permission we turned on her TV. We were quickly horrified to learn that this terrorist attack was taking place in New York City. Two buildings collapsed – one was the building housing our son’s offices. It was now after nine o’clock and we knew that our son when possible got to work early. We were frightened. For the next several hours we tried reaching Jerry on his cell phone. We called our four other children. Everyone was worried about Jerry but relieved to hear from us. Since the decision to spend the night with Aunt Bette had been a last minute decision our family expected that we would be back in Virginia and they were concerned when we didn’t answer our home phone. In talking with the children we learned about the attack on the Pentagon. These were hours of prayer for the safety of our son and for all those effected by the terrors that were unfolding. And they were hours of fear of the unknown.

As so often happens with prayer when our prayers were first answered it was not in the way we expected. Around noon we got the inspiration to check the answering machine on our home phone. There was a message from our son Jerry. After hours of no cell phone service because of overuse he was finally able to make calls. He told us that he was in Jersey City. He had been able to catch a very overcrowded ferry from lower Manhattan. A friend called him when the ferry docked and they set up a meeting place in a local restaurant. The friend was going to take him to his home. But we finally got through to Jerry on his cell and made plans to meet up with him and take him back to his family in Brooklyn. This turned out to be a bit complicated because a number of roads were closed but we finally made it back to Brooklyn and united Jerry with his family. Though this took several hours it was an unmitigated joy to feast our eyes on this precious son we had feared lost.

After their wedding Meg and Brendan who had met in their jobs as Jesuit Volunteers in Portland, Oregon returned to their work in Portland. On September 12th Meg and a friend went for a long walk after work. They finally decided they were too ambitious in their exercise plans and they had better call Brendan for a ride home. They stepped into a convenience store while waiting for Brendan. Meg spotted the local newspaper, THE OREGONIAN and was taken aback to see a featured article about the plane crashes into the World Trade Center that started off ” Jerry and Peggy have five children………” The article then went on to talk about our family and in particular about our son Jerry whose office was in one of the downed World Trade Center buildings. The author of the article was a sports writer, Chuck, who also was a dear and special friend of our son, Jerry. They had met at the University of Virginia and to this day are still close friends. Meg was so touched on reading the article to learn that Chuck when he wrote the article did not know that Jerry was ok.

Though Jerry was usually to work early, September 11, 2001 was such a beautiful day in New York, Jerry decided to walk his children to their near by grade school and then to go on and vote in the New York City primary. So often in life we make simple decisions that have powerful consequences. This certainly was one of those times!!! On September 12, 2001 Jerry wrote a reflection on his past 24 hours. It is powerfully and beautifully written. He posts it every year. We must never forget what transpired on September 11. Jerry’s post is a powerful tool to make sure we do not forget.

Spiritual needs/ Physical needs

The sun begins the day at Diamond Beach

Physical needs have taken up a lot of my time recently – not my choice but the reality of where my body is now. As far as I know I am not battling any disease process. It is just that structurally a cyst that has resided in my left kidney/bladder area for perhaps sixty years has suddenly decided to block the ureter connecting these two important body parts. The urologist offered three different ways to solve this problem. The first two have not worked – surgery happening in September is now the only remaining option.

Saturday night we returned from our family beach week at the Jersey shore. We are blessed with our large family and fully understand that as the children get older, as they finish school and are out in the work world, as they marry and enter into relationships, and have families of their own, the size of our gatherings is going to vary. This time we had 31 family members for all or part of the week who came from California, Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York.

Many years ago we settled on Diamond Beach, New Jersey as our go to place. Jerry had participated in a sprint triathlon at Chincoteague Island and when the excitement of that race was over, we then traveled up the Atlantic coast, stopping at various beaches so Jerry could test the waters as we searched for the perfect beach for our body-surf loving family. When the children were small Bethany Beach and Fenwick Island were our go to places. Beach erosion and a sewage pipe that was extended out into the ocean had changed the contour of these beaches. They were no longer ideal for body surfing.

Growing up on Long Island, it was only a short ride on the train to reach the Rockaway beaches. I have always felt a spiritual connection to the ocean waters: the sound of the waves crashing, the repetition of the waves, the birds, the dolphins, the many ocean treasures. When I was really young my father used to carry me into the water on his shoulders because I was a little water fearful. That stage passed pretty quickly but I didn’t tell my father because I loved being on his shoulders. Then one beach day Pop got the message that I was not acting like a scared mermaid. He swung me around – took one look at my smiling face and tossed me into the water and off I swam.

This year we tried something different for our dinner gatherings at the beach. Because of Covid we didn’t start looking for accommodations for each family till February and then we had a hard time finding condos that were very close together. Instead of sharing dinner we experimented with each family taking a turn providing a dessert for all. That was pretty successful. One night after dinner we all gathered on the deck of the place where Jerry and I were staying. Son Jim made an insanely delicious tiramisu for all.

Our beach gatherings are pretty casual with each family following the timetable that works for them. And wherever the first arrivers on any day settle is where the rest follow suite when they arrive at the beach. When the nineteen grandchildren were little, water safety was a big issue. Now with ages ranging from fourteen to twenty seven everybody is ocean competent. There is also lots of reading, cross word puzzle solving, beach walks, bocce ball, soccer, body surfing, and sharing of what has happened since we were last all together and of future plans. For our family the ocean offers the ideal setting for satisfying physical needs and spiritual needs.

As I have mentioned before there was a period in my life when I used to pray that if God wanted to suddenly make me musical it would be a pretty dramatic miracle. Well God did answer this prayer by gifting me with my wonderful husband who has music in his very being and each of our children and grandchildren are musically gifted – some write music, there are several guitar players, and piano players. To my unbiased ear they are all gifted vocally. With this in mind it just kind of flows that we have talent night during our beach week. No pressure, participation is strictly voluntary.

This year we held it on the large outside deck of our hotel where we had previously shared Jim’s incredibly yummy tiramisu. Since this was going to be more than a dessert sharing I checked with the hotel staff to make sure they had no problem with our family gathering on the deck. They liked the idea of the deck being a place for a family gathering. They didn’t ask the size of our family and I didn’t volunteer any number. We gathered at 7 on the deck for pizza and then moved into the various family performances. Jerry was the MC. I was bursting with pride but that was mixed with a tinge of nervousness as we applauded loudly each performance. Many of the hotel rooms overlooked this deck. I hoped we were not bothering any of the other hotel guests. The setting was perfect overlooking the sand and the ocean beyond.

The next morning I decided to stop by the front desk to make sure the staff was still ok with our deck activity. I was greeted with a big smile by one of the managers who said how much they enjoyed the music and singing from our gathering. I smiled a thank you but was confused that they could hear anything inside an office that was quite removed from the deck. From what I could gather the hotel has a device in place that allows them to monitor activity on the deck. They also said that several families had made a point of stopping by the front desk to say how much they enjoyed the performances and asked if this was a regular Thursday night activity. We also heard that other guests with rooms near the deck had come out on the walkway in front of their rooms to better enjoy the music.

Sunday morning, after our beach week, we attended services at our parish church. This was only our second time since Covid restrictions began. It is so nice to be back to in person church services. Zoom services work – if there is no other option – but actually being present, in church, surrounded by folks who seemed as pleased as we to be there, is very powerfulI! I had been musing on what to call my next blog and had pretty much settled on the above title when at sermon time the priest focused on our various needs, grouping them under their spiritual and physical aspects. I was so pleased. We were meant to be at this particular liturgy.

Right now I have surgery scheduled for September 13 at our local hospital. In the last visit to the urologist before we headed to the beach, we learned that in his twenty years of urology practice he has had only two – three cases like mine. I was a bit taken aback. He said that if I would like a second opinion he suggested the head of urology at George Washington University Hospital. After googling this recommendation I learned that this doctor was also at Sibley Hospital and prior to that was at Johns Hopkins – where our son Joe graduated from medical school. I called and made an appointment. His first opening was August 27. I took it.

Though I brought my laptop with me to the beach I was able to ignore it , and pretty much only used the i phone to message our various family members about the logistics of some of our gatherings. I stopped reading about, and tried to stop thinking about the significance of my health symptoms , about the qualifications of various doctors and various hospitals. I stopped planning for my hospitalization. It was a much needed break as I opened myself to the healing powers of family and of the ocean. To quote Vincent van Gogh,” the heart of man is very much like the sea. It has its storms, it has its tides, and in its depths it has its pearls too. “


Picture taken through our front window because I did not want to scare the fox and her pups away!!!

In the thirty plus years we have lived in our home we have always had a fox neighbor in the woods to the side of our house. There was no warmth in our relationship. It was more one where we tolerated her existence and she tolerated us. We also have had a precious wild bunny population. They were most evident when we would return home after dark and the car headlights would pick them up frolicking on our lawn. And when the bunny population was missing we knew the fox had been busy satisfying her own hunger needs.

As I get older I frequently find my thoughts focusing on the value of relationships – family relationships, friend relationships, animal relationships. We have a ceramic plate in our kitchen that we purchased when our five children were very young. It has these words of wisdom embedded in an etching of a tree with roots:” There are two lasting gifts we can give our children. One is roots and the other is wings.” The roots part for us was pretty easy and straightforward when Jerry and I were blessed with the large family we wanted. The wings are definitely more challenging. Since our children are so close in age – five and a half years apart – once we entered into the “wings” stage it was a pretty time consuming part of our lives. Now as grandparents we just relax and enjoy the grandchildren and let their parents deal with the “wings”issues.

My great Aunt Mary lived into her late 90’s. Her home was in New York City, fairly close to Cornell’s nursing school. She herself graduated from Nursing School in the 1890’s. She loved being a nurse and loved talking about the changes in medicine between the 1890’s and 1956 – 1959, my years at Cornell. We had a regular routine – she would invite me for dinner and she would talk non-stop for the first fifteen minutes and then she would say,”it’s your turn “. She wanted to know all the details of my nursing student life – how things had changed in the last sixty years since she was an active nursing practitioner. I can now so easily relate to Aunt Mary’s desire to know the latest. Every time we are with grandson Gus I like to hear his nursing school experiences. And I find it very impressive that weeks before he even graduated from nursing school he was offered a job in one of the top hospitals in Virginia.

When Jerry and I moved into our present home in 1990 we were about the same age or just a little bit older than the twelve couples who eventually came to live on our street. Now we are definitely the oldest. In fact I believe we may be one of the oldest couples in the whole community. When we first moved in, there was a contagious friendliness that I don’t think is unusual in brand new communities. We may have been the ninth family in this brand new community that now has many hundreds of homes. The special friendliness that is the mark of a brand new neighborhood started to fade with time as job transfers and downsizing got more prevalent. We occasionally give some thought to our own downsizing but the thoughts never go anywhere. We love being able to host family and friend gatherings and there is plenty of room for those who live out of town to stay with us.

This is the third house we have lived in. We were apartment dwellers until the birth of our first child, son Jerry. When we were pregnant with our next child, our daughter Maura , we started to give some serious thought to buying our first home.. We finally found the ideal rambler in Kensington, Maryland. When we moved in we were the youngest family in our neighborhood. Maura, our sons Joe and Jim and our daughter Meg were born there. It was a sweet little house but definitely tight quarters for a family with five children. When Meg was about eighteen months we moved to a new home in Upper Marlboro, Maryland. There was plenty of room for our family of seven. Again we were younger than most of our neighbors but we soon developed a circle of friends and there were lots of neighborhood children for our children to play with. And as our children approached school age we liked what we heard about the grade school. Reports on the junior high school and the high school were not so favorable but that was a long way off.

In the late 1960’s my father retired from teaching and my parents gradually closed down their law practice. With my priestly brother teaching at a Jesuit high school in Washington, DC, and my brother Pete and his wife Louise and their daughters living in Virginia my parents decided to move to the DC area and buy a home in our community. Jerry and I had developed such a nice circle of friends, as much as I wanted my folks near by I was concerned that they would not find many contemporaries in our neighborhood or in the surrounding area. I decided to start a senior citizen club and enlisted some friends to help me. I approached a local church with the idea and they were very supportive. As was the county office which focuses on the needs of senior citizens. The church offered free meeting space and the club got off to a great start, serving the needs of the older local population both in and out of our community. We called the group SLOGGS – slightly older guys and gals. Once the club was well established I withdrew from active involvement because my parents were not interested in joining SLOGGS. They wanted to be involved with their children and grandchildren and with old friends whom they were sure would come to visit.

Unfortunately my parents were together in their new home for less than two years when my father first had surgery for cataracts and followed that with a fatal heart attack . I was very touched with the way friends and neighbors turned out to support my mother. Giving of yourself to support another when they are going through a difficult time is such an incredible gift.

This pandemic time has been tough in so many ways but it has also had its special gifts. I am so touched when Jerry and I take our daily walks and are greeted by smiles and waves from those we don’t know. And it has made me more appreciative of the animal life roaming our neighborhood. Now I am still not psyched when the deer and the bunny rabbits nibble on our plants but I am more appreciative of their specialness. Yesterday I spotted a baby deer standing on the hill in our backyard gazing about with such cuteness and such intenseness that I was completely smitten. And when the cicadas finally ended their seventeen year appearance I was grateful for the return of the pre cicada bird population with its color and variety. I like to think i have always appreciated nature but now it is even more so.

Today is the first time since the pandemic began that with restrictions lifted we attended in person church. In this pandemic time our church has been very creative in ministering to the spiritual needs of its parishioners. They continued to hold services following the guidelines for masking and social distancing. And they provided streamed services for those who were not comfortable with attending in person services and for those over seventy who were considered to be in the more at risk population. Our church is a very warm and welcoming community. And today it seemed even more so. It was so good to be back. An extra special treat was seeing and visiting with some dear old friends.

Close friends are a special treasure. On June 29th we lost a dear friend who had been sick for a long time. Our friendship with Al and his wife Moira who died about five years ago was a gift of forty seven years that we valued deeply. Our relationship with Moira and Al makes me think of the Irish proverb: A good friend is like a four leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have.

Early in the pandemic we lost Les – another friendship treasure. A college friend of Jerry’s who was the best man at our wedding and the godfather of our firstborn. It is easy to focus on life’s losses but we must not forget life’s blessings – the joys that have come from various relationships.

I am comforted by the words of Leo Tolstoy: the more you transform your life from the material to the spiritual domain, the less you become afraid of death. A person who lives a truly spiritual life has no fear of death.


A lifeA A a

As a child I was pretty fearless around bugs. I remember one summer when I was at camp – I was probably about ten at the time – walking with two friends to the dining hall for lunch. A passing yellow jacket decided to join us. As he buzzed around the three of us my friends screamed. I thought they were being goofy. I stood very still and the yellow jacket landed on my hand. He and I had a staring contest as we checked each other out. And then he just flew off and my friends and I continued on to lunch. Another time, at about the same age, I remember a praying mantis who took up residence in our backyard at home. I was thrilled to be able to get close to him, to observe his eating habits – mainly spiders and insects – and to witness his amazing agility.

Unfortunately as I got older my bug curiosity diminished, but I was blessed to marry a man who has an insatiable interest in so many subjects – including bugs. Jerry loves to pick them up and to observe them. Recently when we were walking from the first green to the second tee of the golf course he said, “Peg I want to show you something”. I moved closer and he opened his hand to display a beautiful ( I say this in retrospect) cicada. Before the cicada flew off I had a good look at his big eyes, and his delicate looking wings. I had no desire to hold him as Jerry was doing, though I sometimes do wish I had been able to retain my childhood interest in bugs.

We have been in our present home since 1990 which means we have experienced two visitations of the 17 year cicadas while living here. The first experience was very mild – perhaps all the construction in our new neighborhood interfered with the cicada habitat. The present visitation is exactly the opposite. It is all pervasive. Our home is bounded by woods on two sides. The cicadas love the woods, they love to sing and they love to buzz around our backyard. If you decide to sit on the patio you have to expect that a few cicadas will come to call. The negative of the cicada influx is that they have cut down on bird traffic at our feeders. We have had several house finches, and several hummingbirds, a woodpecker, and an unnamed gray bird which we have enjoyed very much but nothing like the bird traffic jam that gives us so much pleasure.

Once it was determined that the cyst causing my left kidney blockage was not malignant the surgeon presented three options: major surgery lasting four hours plus where the cyst would be removed – such lengthy time under general anesthesia not being the best idea for a 84 year old ; stent placement in the blockage area which would have to be replaced several times a year; and fluid withdrawal from the cyst to cut down on its size and blockage capability and which would also have to be done several times a year – for both these last options the anesthesia would be minimal – compared to the major surgery option. Right now I have a small stent in place and my body is not really liking this foreign object invasion. Lots of good opportunities for prayer and for offering up the discomfort caused by the stent which the surgeon is hopeful will go away with the passage of time.

In late June I have my next appointment with the surgeon. By then enough time will have passed to correctly evaluate the efficacy of the stent as my pathway to kidney recovery. I am gradually coming to like the surgeon. Because of his skill with robotic surgery he was the strong recommendation of an old friend who happens to be a urologist. I had assumed my urological issues would be cared for by our old friend. But after seeing our friend for an initial visit he was adamant that my medical needs would be better served by the skills of this other doctor. So I went from a warm fuzzy doctor’s office to one where a welcoming atmosphere seemed to have been outlawed. The surgeon himself is very friendly. He allots about 45 minutes per patient – which is pretty amazing. He answers all questions with a thoroughness that I appreciate. It is some of the support staff who make you wonder what you have done wrong. I can’t help but compare the doctor’s office manager to a recent sales clerk I did business with at Home Depot( not a store that we frequent – since the owner of Home Depot is a proud Trump supporter). But, I was at Home Depot because after searching on line they were the only store nearby that had the assembled Weber grill we were looking for. The sales clerk who helped me was a young woman who I would guess was in her early thirties. She was tall, with dyed blond hair and arms that were covered with tattoos. She must have had some sort of managerial position because other clerks kept coming to her with questions. She had a welcoming smile that generated warmth and competence. I was in and out of HD in record time. From the time of my arrival to my departure, with the new grill in the back of my car, perhaps thirty minutes elapsed. I shook hands with the sales clerk and thanked her for my successful and speedy shopping adventure. I could not help but reflect on the different vibes generated by the renowned surgeon’s office manager and the Home Depot sales clerk.

Saturday, May 15, was the 26th birthday of our third oldest grandchild,Jeremy. Such fun to have a phone visit with him – so proud of him and all our grandchildren. Granddaughter Lilly provided Saturday night’s dinner of home made empanadas. It was meaningful to learn from son- in law Paul, who grew up in Argentina, that empanadas are a staple of the Argentine diet. Jerry and I had never had empanadas before – what a yummy introduction Lilly provided.

This is graduation season – for the academic world at large and for our family in particular. Atar is graduating from 8th grade. Brian, Khushi and Elsa are graduating or have just graduated from high school. Gus graduated from nursing school. And Annie and Jimmy graduated from the University of Virginia. Annie actually graduated from UVA last year with a Covid 19 inspired remote graduation ceremony. When UVA offered Annie’s class the chance to have an in person ceremony this year, more than 2000 accepted and showed up for the ceremony. It was tasteful, appropriate and inspiring. As was her brother Jimmy’s ceremony, Class of 2021, the following week. It was another live streamed ceremony – it was done so tastefully and the speeches had that inspirational touch that you want at graduation time. One of the more difficult aspects of Covid for Jerry and me, has been not being able to attend all our grandchildren graduations. But that loss is helped so much by the live streaming and the zoom ceremonies.

I was in the last class of New York state students whose first day of kindergarten was in February, and all my subsequent first days – grade school, high school and college – were also in February. Just two days after finishing high school I began my college life. It was too soon. It is important when passing through different stages in life to have time for reflection on what has been experienced and anticipation for what the future holds.

And though I feel that my time at Marymount College was a bit rushed as I strove to get in the sixty credits necessary for admission to Cornell’s nursing school and its BSN program,I did have some amazing experiences at Marymount. Since the academic load was heavy I only allowed myself to join one club and I chose the Collegiate Council for the United Nations. Just because I had chosen to follow the academic path to nursing my interest in history and current events was in no way diminished. I loved being part of this organization and the interactions we had with students from other colleges. When Marymount offered me the opportunity to represent the college at a week long overnight seminar at Sarah Lawrence College I accepted – even though it meant missing a week of the summer school session that all the students who started in February were being required to take as the college prepared to close down its February admission program. Catching up after missing a week of a six week summer session was tough but as I look back now I have no regrets. It was an amazing and challenging experience. The two speakers at the seminar who still stand out for me were Krishna Menon who was at that time the Indian ambassador to the United Nations, and Eleanor Roosevelt. I don’t remember now how many colleges were represented at the seminar – perhaps twenty – but I do remember being a little star struck by the intimate setting and the thought provoking words offered by these speakers.

In this season of the cicadas I find their continuous drone to be a bit mind numbing.As we age it is important to continue to challenge our minds and thoughts. I like this excerpt from the diary of the journalist and activist Dorothy Day who died in 1980 at age 83: No matter how old I get ………my heart can still leap for joy as I read and suddenly assent to some great truth enunciated by some great mind and heart.


Three weeks ago Jerry and I were walking the golf course on an absolutely beautiful day, hitting the ball with occasional shots that were moderately pleasing ( is any golfer ever totally pleased?) and feeling very blessed. Several days later I was back in the emergency room. This time it was not Afib but rather hours of throwing up and severe abdominal pain. The diagnosis was a left kidney that was not functioning properly. Am now going through various tests and procedures to learn the cause of the kidney malfunction. Am truly fortunate to have my wonderful husband and our incredible family to support me on this journey.

The sudden pain from the kidney malfunction was pretty over the top. It has caused me to do a lot of reflecting on pain – the why of pain, the meaning of pain. Growing up Catholic I was always taught the spiritual value of pain. Pain can be turned into a powerful prayer when you offer it up for some person or purpose. In the 1980’s on a skiing trip to Colorado with Jerry, my brothers and my sister-in- law, I had a bad skiing accident resulting in a dislocated shoulder, a broken bone and a torn rotator cuff. As I was being transported down the slope, I can still clearly picture my priestly brother suddenly appearing at the side of the ski patrol gurney, flashing me his special smile and with a tad of sheepishness reminding me to offer up the pain and saying I could offer it up for him if I wanted. For me giving spiritual purpose to pain absolutely helps.

I found the kidney pain to be fierce and not particularly helped by the morphine I was given in the ER. Relief finally came when I focused on what to do with the pain – who or what should I offer it up for. As the ER staff moved in and out performing various functions and not really requiring much of a response from me, I was able to distract myself by focusing on the value of my pain and what to do with it. When I finally settled on the petition that each of our nineteen grandchildren find the right life partner, I knew I had a winner. Finding meaning in the pain I was able to relax and perhaps finally give the morphine a chance to work.

One of the tests ordered for me was a CAT scan with iodine dye. Years ago I had an allergic reaction to iodine. This time as a precaution, I was put on massive doses of prednisone and benadryl – starting 14 hours before the test. All went well except the technician forgot to close off the port to the newly installed external drainage bag from my left kidney – the dye went right into the external bag thereby requiring a second infusion of dye – this time with the port appropriately closed. Though the test now worked it was followed by a full body skin allergic reaction which the doctor attributed to getting a second dose of the dye. I felt like what could go wrong was going wrong.

Last Friday our son Jerry drove down from New Jersey for a visit – 28 hours of a very special visit : working on crossword puzzles, guitar playing and singing, conversation when we felt like it. And then our local families came with dinner – such yumminess. Son Jim manned the grill, granddaughter Lilly – just back from Europe – fixed two of the dishes – a potato salad that was her own recipe and a blueberry tart to die for. It was all so easy as each family took care of the dinner prep and the clean up.

Wednesday I had an outpatient procedure with Interventional Radiology. The external port from the left kidney with accompanying tubing and bag was closed and replaced by a stint in the blocked portion of the junction between the kidney and my ureter. It was no big deal but if I have any complaint it was that they did not prepare me for the discomfort that accompanies this procedure and which can last for many days. I went into the hospital feeling good and left feeling not so good. Today on a followup with the urologist I learned that 80% of the folks who have the type of stint that was placed in me have considerable pain from the stint. It would have been nice to have been prepared for the fact that stint complications were normal – instead I worried that something was wrong.

And since I am in a griping mood a thing that really ticks me off is that the urologist’s office will not allow my husband to come to appointments with me. Jerry and I operate as a team and particularly when your health is out of kilter and your head may be a little foggy with all that is going on, it is important that your teammate be there so that no aspect of your treatment plan is missed. I understand that these are Covid times but Jerry and I are fully vaccinated and we wear our masks. Now Jerry and I are fortunate that our daughter Maura is a nurse practitioner and when she informed the urology office of her credentials they agreed that she could come with me. Made me feel sorry for contemporary patients of this doctor who are not blessed with their own family medical practitioner.

I fully understand that as one ages various parts of the body are prone to malfunctioning. If one could pick the desired season for body malfunctioning my choice would be winter – not the beautiful Spring weather of the last three weeks. Since my kidney started misbehaving any form of exercise has been ruled out. This would be easier to accept if the weather was not so inviting. In about an hour our daughter Meg will arrive from her home in Pennsylvania for an overnight visit – a love gift that is better than any medicine.

The urologists office just called. I am now officially on the hospital schedule for a procedure next Friday to examine the complex cyst in my left kidney. Is that the culprit? There are several possibilities but the cyst has got to be ruled out first.

Have been amusing myself by googling inspirational quotes – so many to choose from. One that particularly resonates with me is the old Chinese proverb: “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now”.



These past two weeks have been very special for many reasons. It seems like Spring has just exploded in all its glory with warmer weather, budding and in some cases flowering trees, vibrantly yellow daffodils which contrasted with our purple vinca are pretty spectacular and the many other plants which are starting to push through the soil. New growth, new beginnings abound.

Our bird feeders have a steady flow of colorful customers from the bird population. During the winter we did not see the gold finch or the rosy house finch – now they are regular customers. And thanks to an early birthday gift of binoculars from Maura and Paul I am enjoying the amazing bird colors as never before. I have always been slightly color blind – having a difficult time distinguishing the difference between black and navy blue. As I have gotten older the rich hues of colors do not stand out for me unless I get close. When Jerry would point out the red spot on the downy wood pecker it was not so evident to me. Now with the binoculars I am seeing all the bird colors in their Spring glory.

And , big news, last Wednesday and Thursday, Jerry and I both got our second Covid19 vaccinations. I was unprepared for the feeling of euphoria that this generated. In another eight days we will be finished with the waiting period that follows the second shot. As we inch back toward some degree of normalcy it has been fun to think that some of the restrictions we have been living under will finally be lifted. Since most of our family has been vaccinated it means that our out of town families will now be able to visit and actually stay with us. It means that the pair of sneakers that I so badly need I will actually be able to go inside the mall and purchase in person. I have become pretty adept at online shopping but my feet are not a typical size and require in person shopping. I have not been inside a mall in over a year. Another treat I am contemplating is getting a hair cut. My hair is now longer than it has ever been in my whole life. It has not been cut since a year ago March. This is a big deal for someone who has specialized in short hair for eighty plus years. Some days I like it long and some days not so much.

In the spiritual realm, the three days, the Tridiuum, leading up to Easter, April 4, were marked by meaningful ceremonies. Our church has truly mastered the art of live streaming and if those times don’t work for you, the ceremonies are recorded and available at a time that accommodates different parishioner schedules. It has been since March 2020 that we actually attended church in person. The streaming and the videos have helped to make this bearable.

The Easter Vigil service at our parish, St John Neumann, was particularly moving . Following health department protocols a limited number of parishioners were able to attend. The music, the liturgy, the sermon were all so powerful. I felt like I was there in person. I so clearly remember my mother in her later years – when her mobility was an issue and my priestly brother was not available to gift us with a home mass – my mother would watch mass on television. She got so much out of the experience. I just could not relate to being spiritually moved by a televised ceremony. But now, a year plus into the pandemic, I can.

In my childhood life attending a parochial school meant active participation in the religious ceremonies that defined holy week. I particularly loved Holy Thursday which I remember as standing room only attendance at the evening mass in our parish church.The grade school students processed up and down the aisles of the church. I seem to remember that the youngest students – the last to make their first Holy Communion – wore their attire from that special day. Older students were in cap and gown. Hands were clasped in prayer and there was devotional singing as we processed. I just loved the pageantry and the joy that emanated from that celebration. I certainly was a shy child but I thrived in this group activity.

Easter Sunday this year was full of blessings – aside from the spiritual blessings – there were the family blessings. We shared Easter dinner with our local families sitting outside on the patio around the fire pit. It was such a beautiful day there was barely need for the fire pit but except when the wood is very smoky, it is a soothing presence. Dinner was preceded by a family zoom – twenty-nine family members from California to Rome, Italy put in an appearance. Wanting to make sure we heard from everyone, we asked that each person, speaking for about a minute, share a happy memory. We know that it is not easy for everyone to share like that – even with loving family members. The words that were spoken evoked many treasured memories. We ended our gathering with “Let There Be Peace on Earth”.

The only jarring note in this special time was the two days I spent in the hospital as these special weeks began. I had an attack of acute Afib. It is my third attack in the last year and a half. There are two kinds of Afib – acute and chronic. With the chronic variety you frequently do not know that you have this condition – it is picked up on a routine physical examination. With my version of the acute variety I go in a matter of minutes from feeling great to feeling like I have been hit by a sledge hammer. Following the doctor’s instructions we purchased a blood pressure machine and when these episodes happen I immediately put it to good use. Each time it has shown numbers double and triple my normal heart rate. Jerry and I immediately head to the emergency room of our local hospital. This last attack was absolutely the worst and since I do not tolerate well the meds which would keep these attacks from happening, in about three weeks I will have a surgical procedure which should keep these attacks at bay. I hope so!

Today Jerry and I played online bridge with our cousin Jim in California and my brother Pete who was at his home in McLean. It was challenging and lots of fun. ( This is another on line activity that in person would be best but the online alternative is a good substitute.) We finished around 4pm in plenty of time to take a leisurely neighborhood walk. It was delightful and cinched for me my decision to go ahead with the surgical procedure for my Afib. The medicine route with its resulting muscle pain makes walking not so enjoyable.

Occasionally I like to read about aging to see if I can learn from the thoughts expressed. Recently I came across these words by Betty Friedan that resonated with me. ” Aging is not lost youth but a new stage of opportunity and strength”.



It was the 1980’s and St. Patrick’s Day was fast approaching. I was in our local grocery store shopping for the ingredients for a special St. Patrick’s Day meal. The produce section had a feature on purple shamrocks for $4.99. I had not intended to purchase any plants – we were pretty well stocked in that regard – but I was intrigued by the purple shamrock display. I had never seen this plant before. Growing up in a family proud of its Irish heritage we had specialized in green shamrock plants for March 17th. But I succumbed to the plant display and went home with one of these interesting plants, actually the one pictured above. It has grown and flowered in the past thirty plus years. In 1990 it survived our move from southern Maryland to Northern Virginia. It is an absolute beauty!!!

I am particularly fond of our purple shamrock because I find it symbolic of Irish beauty and strength and durability. And it has been with us for so long it is part of our family lore. Both my mother and father were of Irish descent. My father’s parents who were born in Ireland were married in Peoria, Illinois – she was not yet 20, he was in his late 20’s. What my brother Pete and I would just like to know is did they come to the States planning to marry or was theirs a romance that flourished on American soil. We don’t know why they were married in Illinois, but we do know that after their marriage they then lived in the Hell’s Kitchen section of New York. When my father was a young toddler the family moved to New Jersey where two more sons were born. I have few memories of these grandparents. From my father I learned that they were hard working, strong willed but loving parents. Grandfather died before I was born and my grandmother died when I was 7. Since my own family lived on Long Island and grandmother lived in New Jersey and because we had no car, visiting was difficult. Moreover, my mother unfortunately did not feel welcomed by her mother-in-law who would call and invite my father to come visit and to please bring his oldest son with him. Mom and Pete and I were excluded from the invite.

My mother’s parents, also of Irish heritage, met when they were both students at Cornell University in the 1890’s. They were married in 1900 after Grandfather had attained prominence in the legal field in his home town of Ithaca and had been appointed a judge. My uncle Don was born in 1901 and my mother and her twin sister in 1903. These precious children were denied much time with their mother, Margaret O’Shea McAllister, because she succumbed to cancer in 1905. A memorial pamphlet published after her death talked of a loving, caring, generous and very musical woman. Years later my grandfather remarried. Nana was an amazing woman who took on the role of mother to three young children with gusto and efficiency. My Mom, with tremendous appreciation for her step mother, would occasionally express to me, during that final year of her life when she lived with us, her regrets that she had never gotten to know her own mother who was always described as such a gentle soul.

Grandfather Mc Allister was one of my most favorite older relatives. He died when I was eleven. He had a quiet strength that made his kindness and goodness all the more powerful . I loved him very much.

My mother’s family was probably as proud of their Irish heritage as Pop’s family. But that did not mean that the families really clicked. When Leon Uris’s TRINITY was published in 1976 my mother was totally absorbed by this tale of Ireland. She was particularly taken by the strong matriarchal figure (unfortunately I can not remember the character’s name ) who plays a dominant role in the story. I read the book when it first came out before sharing it with my mother. Mom kept repeating as she read the sections of TRINITY that focused on this woman, ” I wish this book had been written when your Dad and I were first married. It would have so helped me to better understand my mother-in-law.”

Growing up we always celebrated St. Patrick’s Day. It was very easy for Pop to start speaking with a brogue – a gift he passed on to his children. Facility with the Irish brogue stood me in good stead when I attended an all girls Catholic high school and joined the theater club. We put on two major plays a year and since the moderator of the club was Irish with a fondness for putting on Irish plays – with my brogue facility I always got a part. Pop’s brogue was particularly evident on March 17. Dinner was usually corned beef and cabbage and and there was always the wearing of something green – a tie, a bow, a shirt or blouse with easily noticed green in its design, a paper shamrock, etc.

I was always proud of my Irishness !!! Just based on my own family I thought being Irish meant you were caring and strong willed and blessed with ” the gift of the gab.” Since I was trying to figure out my future in life these traits seemed like good ones to have. Growing up we lived on a ethnically diverse street which though primarily Jewish had a sprinkling of Protestant, and I believe two other Catholic families. Two of my closest friends on the street were Jewish. They honored my holidays and I honored theirs.

When my brothers attended high school in New York City the St Patrick’s Day parade, going down Fifth Avenue, assumed major importance in our lives. Students from their military academy school marched in the parade. I hoped the high school I chose would offer the same opportunity. I thought my brothers and their classmates looked so important and so handsome as they came marching by. I loved going to the parade with my parents. There was a contagious air of excitement in the city that seemed to emanate from the parade.

My high school which celebrated St Patrick’s Day with a very festive enthusiasm, did not march in the St. Patrick’s parade. But Marymount College NYC which I attended for a year and a half to gain the necessary college credits which were a prerequisite for admittance to Cornell University’s Nursing program – Marymount did march in the parade. My brothers were at this time one in college and the other in the seminary so I was now the representative family member in the parade. I marched in two parades before moving on to nursing school.

When it was again time for the St. Patty’s parade and we were having a break from nursing school classes, I invited some of my dorm mates to join me in heading over to Fifth Avenue to watch the parade. As of old I was swept up in the excitement of the parade, and so were my friends, some of whom had never seen a St Patrick’s Day parade of this magnitude. When the cadets from my brothers’ old high school appeared in the distance I felt the same thump, thump of my heart that I used to feel as a young school girl. And then they got very close and I got a good look at these handsome young marchers whose predecessors had set my heart to going pitter patter. “Young” is the key word here. They looked so young to me. It was my first time experiencing an “in your face” reminder of the passage of time. I was now all of 19 years old – almost 20!

When I graduated from Cornell, and moved to Washington,D.C. getting an apartment originally with just two friends, we brought with us our family traditions. St Patrick’s Day was appropriately celebrated. And when Jerry and I married and raised our family we always gave due honor to the patron saint of Ireland. One is not any less American because they are proud of their Irish heritage.

Like our prized purple shamrock I have found the Irish family and friends who have been part of my life to be strong and durable , with a contagious sense of self and with pride in their Irish heritage. There are so many quotes that well express Irish wisdom. One I like: “You have got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your father was.”



Since – due to the the pandemic- we were not heading to Florida for the cold months, several decisions had to be made – some were of consequence, some not so much. As I have previously blogged, visible from our kitchen, we have for years had a hummingbird feeder hanging from a pole in the small garden area next to our patio. The feeder gives us much pleasure from early Spring till the cold of Fall. Ever since our son-in -law Paul introduced us to hummingbirds a number of years ago we have been hooked on these smallest of birds. When the hummingbirds leave we have left up the feeder until our Florida departure because “a” the feeder is attractive and “b” because “why not” – what else would we put there. A couple of Christmas times we did try replacing the feeder – putting on its pole a Christmas wreath which was appropriate during the Christmas season extending till early January when we left for Florida.

Now in pandemic time we decided we needed a more long term something to hang from the pole. And since the hummingbird feeder gave us so much pleasure why not try a regular bird feeder. In late October we hung the first feeder. Initially we moved the pole farther from the house thinking that if we wanted to attract some of the colorful birds who occasionally paid a visit to our yard, we couldn’t have the feeder too close to the house. Closeness to the house was not an issue for the hummingbirds but we thought it might be an issue for the bigger birds. After a slow start the word must have gotten out in the bird world that our yard was the place to come for good dining.The bird feeder got so much action that we felt we were missing out on not being able to see our bird visitors up close. In early November we bought a smaller feeder and put that next to the patio. We didn’t realize that that the cylindrical, supposedly squirrel resistant feeders -which might look alike – actually came with feeder apertures for different size birds. The second feeder we soon learned was for smaller birds. Now this feeder got so much action from the smaller birds, we decided to also move the first feeder to the patio garden so the bigger birds who were somewhat comically attempting to eat from the second feeder would leave that for the smaller birds. Closeness to our house was not an issue for any of the birds – big or small. We also added a suet feeder for the birds dining pleasure.

I like to think of last three months as our bird honeymoon period. We were treated to such an array of cardinals, bluebirds, yellow birds, wrens, woodpeckers and mystery birds whose names we didn’t know. Mystery birds led to our buying the Field Guide to the BIRDS OF EASTERN North America by National Geographic and the Field Guide Birds of Virginia – both excellent resources that have given us more background on the birds we recognize and help us to identify the birds we do not know.

I have always loved blue birds but could never attract them to our backyard. We even bought a special blue bird house that supposedly would entice the blue birds, but no luck. When the bird feeders went up the blue birds came. It made me wonder if there was some kind of life lesson that was to be learned from the arrival of the blue birds. When I wanted them so badly they never came. When I stopped focusing on them and just generally wanted to attract the bird population, they came. Seeing these beauties up close has been such a treat – their vibrant blue color stands out.

The only blight on our bird “honeymoon ” was the tenacious persistence of the squirrels as they worked to empty the feeders. Squirrels are incredibly athletic and persistent with an amazing ability to shimmy up the bird feeder pole. We have taken to greasing the poles. I must confess to a feeling of tremendous pleasure one afternoon when after a thorough pole greasing I looked out and saw a squirrel laboriously working his way up one of the poles and just as he reached the feeder, he slid down backwards. And then he just scampered away.

Toward the end of January our bird “honeymoon ” came to an end. The backyard was invaded by what we think are grackles – and more specifically – after consulting our reference books – the common grackle. They arrive in flocks, sometimes there are as many as twenty, descending on the two feeders and devouring all the seed in short order. In the past two weeks we have gone through a fifteen pound bag of wild bird seed. Not only are the grackle invasions pricy but they chase away the precious bird population that we have been enjoying so much.

Fortunately the grackles are very skittish – all we have to do is knock at the windows or start to open the kitchen door and they fly into our trees – waiting till they think the coast is clear. Now it is great that the grackles are so easily scared off but the problem is they are quick to come back. We could easily turn into full time grackle police as we work to retain our backyard bird sanctuary.

Part of life is making decisions about how we spend our time. As we get older time becomes even more precious. Standing guard against the grackles is not my ideal way to spend time. Life offers so many possibilities for time spending : being present to family and friends, church involvement, political involvement, playing golf and bridge, taking long walks, reading , writing – the list goes on. I like to ponder the words of Robert Louis Stevenson, ” Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds you plant”.


Looking forward – January 2021 providing an amazing setting sun

2020 has finally come to a close. Many wonderful things happened in this past year but i am heaving a sigh of relief that it has come to an end. The many incredible memory moments with family and friends were mixed with sadness. Les – the best man at our wedding died of Covid 19. Eloise – an old friend of more than fifty years – died of cancer. Jerry and Les had been friends since college. He and his wife, Maureen, continued to be our close friends down through the years. When Les was admitted to memory care it was a difficult reality for us to accept.

We met Eloise and her husband through our local parish church. When Jerry volunteered to teach religious instruction to one of the two fifth grade classes at the church he was assigned to observe Eloise’s husband Joe who was experienced in teaching this age group. The fact that Eloise and Joe were our contemporaries and that their four children were close in age to our five, made it very easy for our families to become close. And in the “it’s a small world category,” after we had been friends for over ten years, we discovered that Eloise had been the boarding school roommate of another close friend of ours.

Covid 19 and the restrictions on daily life that it brings with it have been at times very difficult to deal with. But with loving family and good friends, and technology – zoom gatherings that now stretch from California to Rome,Italy, and the fact that Jerry and I both enjoy bridge and scrabble (we are now playing both games electronically) and golf – we are able to stay pleasantly busy. The pandemic is so much easier on us than on our children and grandchildren. They have had to deal with school disruptions, family and social disruptions, work disruptions. It has not been easy. We are very proud of them.

Being a political junkie I have found the four years of Donald Trump’s administration very difficult to accept. And the fact that he still refuses to accept the election results is for me a nightmare. I can not wait till he is no longer “sucking the oxygen” out of our political landscape. He seems to thrive on dividing the country. It does not appear that he focuses on the needs of the county he was four years ago elected to lead. I will be happy when he is gone and when his family is gone.

This evening we had a fire pit dinner on the patio with our two local families. It was very special as Jerry invited those who wanted to to share New Years resolutions. Some did and some didn’t and that was just fine. I have always liked the concept of new beginnings and the start of a new year is the perfect new beginning. I was going to say something about the political climate – a topic that frequently comes up in our politically involved family but it seemed that moving into that area of conversation might have a negative effect on the prevailing caring vibes that were dominating our gathering.

When I am feeling down about about the future both politically and socially, about lack of justice and lack of caring, about what the future holds for our children and grandchildren, it is our same children and grandchildren who make me hopeful.

For example – today, January 2 is Granddaughter Annie’s birthday. Annie is a Teach for America volunteer in Florida in a Miami – Dade school. She graduated from the University of Virginia this past year. Except of course, thanks to Covid, there was no real graduation. Annie teaches Intro to Reading to 7th and 8th graders. Her students are from minority backgrounds;. Having attended a local public school in an affluent community she was not prepared for the poverty and overcrowding and lack of supplies she would experience in the school she was assigned to. One would think this would have been an essential aspect of the Teach for America training.

My own father who put himself through law school by teaching in a New York City public school and who graduated into the Depression could never afford to give up the financial security teaching provided as he and my mother worked to develop their own law practice. My father taught minority students in a low income area. Though Pop”s students and Annie’s students were and are from minority backgrounds I never heard my father say that his school was short on supplies or on such basic needs as chairs for the students. I never felt that he thought his school did not provide the rudimentary supplies needed for facilitating effective teaching.

When Annie arrived for her first day of in-person teaching Introduction to Reading, there were seats for 20 seventh and eighth graders. Over 30 students had been assigned to her class. When she questioned the lack of space and appropriate seating, the school administration eventually and randomly removed 10 plus students from her class and they were placed with another school employee – not a qualified teacher – who did the best he could which was having these students spend their days on paper work. Finally a qualified substitute teacher was found to work with these students. But until that happened warm hearted, caring Annie had to deal daily with the displaced students coming to her classroom door begging her to take them back. It was not Annie’s decision – it was an administrative decision. Right before Annie left for Christmas vacation, her own classroom teacher’s desk collapsed and just fell apart. I wonder how long it will take to get that repaired.

Annie teaches a total of 135 students. She has forty students per on-line class – 28 of whom regularly attend and now there are about 20 students in each of her in-person classes. Annie loves her students and I think they they realize they are very blessed to have her in their lives. One of her students even called her to wish her happy birthday.

Jerry and I and our contemporaries are probably now past the point age wise and health wise where we can make a significant impact politically or socially. But we must continue to be supportive of those ideals we believe in. I like to ponder the words of C.S. Lewis, ” You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” And we are never too old to appreciate a magnificent sunset!!!