ELECTION TIME

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.

To illustrate the passage of time – above is from August 5, 2013

Growing up on Long Island the ocean beach was pretty accessible. Before we had a car, the Rockaway beaches were just a short train ride away. In the years when we didn’t have a car the 10ish minute walk to the Long Island train passed quickly as did the train ride itself which depending on which of the Rockaway beaches we were heading to, was at the most a half hour train ride away. Though I must confess that as a child I thought a half hour train ride was too far from the ocean I loved.

A very special Long island beach was Jones Beach. From where we lived that was only easily accessible by car. And when our family car was up and running that was such a fun place to go.

When Jerry and I were first married we lived in an apartment in Arlington, Virginia – a couple of hours from the Virginia and or Maryland/ Delaware beaches where we liked to spend beach time. A several hours trip to the beach gave me new insight into how fortunate my brothers and I were as kids to live relatively close to such good ocean beaches

Jerry loves the beach as much as I do. When Jerry and I got engaged, it was in a park on the way to the beach. This particular outing was to be beach time with my priestly brother, Bud ( also known as Father Joe and with the passage of time, beloved Uncle Bud) . I was so excited to share with Bud the news of our engagement. And it was equally exciting when we called my parents to give them the news. At first we told them that we wanted to be married in perhaps June of 1961. Then we called them back and changed the date to February 1961 . That date didn’t last long. We soon settled on November of 1960 which was eight months after we first met. When we called my parents to make the change to November 1960 my father confessed his relief that we were dropping the February time. He had checked the almanac and for February 4, 1961 Long Island was forecasted to be inundated by a major snow storm. And that indeed was the case. Where my parents still lived on Long island, where the November wedding actually took place, was hit by a blizzard.

And now with our five grown children married with families of their own we have a tradition of family beach week. For about ten years from the 1970’s to the mid 1980’s we shared ownership of a condo at Sea Colony in Bethany Beach , Delaware with Pete and Louise and their daughters. My mother and her sister and husband also owned a condo in the same complex. We all spent a lot of time at Sea Colony, both in and out of the typical beach season. And the whole family loved it. But after my mother died; and after a drainage pipe was installed at Sea Colony that extended out into the ocean that changed the contour of the ocean floor to the extent that conditions were no longer amazing for wave riding; and with five children who were either in college or soon to start, we decided it was time to sell our place at Sea Colony. That didn’t stop us from going to the ocean – we just didn’t go as often. School and job commitments made that too difficult. And children growing up and pursuing their various life directions affected their availability.

And now as we plan our family beach week, our children’s work schedules, our grandchildren’s schedules and the ocean tide charts all must be taken into consideration. If everyone can come we would have 31. This year we had 26. Even though everyone can not come every year, our gatherings are a total blessing.

The beach is a spiritual experience for me. Normally I seldom miss a once a week church service. It is very important for my inner peace. I don’t feel that way at the ocean. I am moved, comforted and challenged by the ocean – its beauty, its sounds, its bird life, the antics of the dolphins, the inner peace it gives me even on its wildest days.

The only problem with beach week is that it goes by too quickly. Because this year we were there in the beginning of summer, we ended our incredible week with a celebration of Jim’s birthday. We all gathered to serenade him and to eat an amazing peach cobbler – made by Jim . And then Lisa asked the birthday questions. It was a perfect ending to our special week.

Talent night is a unique feature of our gatherings. There is no pressure to perform and not everyone does. But it is so, so special. This year we were treated to the musical talents of the two Jerrys, of Jim, of Quinn and Lane, of Liam, of Lilly. And Alec playing his guitar and singing a song he had written : A Challenge – Face It. Love the inspiration of these words – they are a powerful message to end this blog

And now – July 1, 2024 – as the saying goes ” time flies”

May was a very rainy month. I started this blog on May 18 – another very rainy day. The weekend before we spent a long weekend at Jerry and Teresa’s Ocean Grove, New Jersey beach home. We were there with Maura and Paul and Lilly; Meg, Atar and Liam; Jeremy, Amy and Mirinda. It was a special treat to honor Jeremy’s 29th birthday. And though the rain was a factor it was not a negative. Nature offers many faces and as long as she does not overdo the bad weather days I tend to enjoy them all.

We were back to Ocean Grove two weeks later, Memorial Day weekend, for another wonderful visit. This time Jim, Lisa, Meggie and Josh and Khushi and Vaishnavi added to our numbers. And again the rain put in an appearance . It was special to have Liam and Brian – just back from Ireland – join us. Liam is a star player on the Down Syndrome Sports of America soccer team. And Brian is a valuable member of the coaching staff. They had an amazing week in Ireland playing against and training with that country’s team. And though they didn’t win, ( pardon my Grandmotherly bragging ) Liam played with distinction and was even written up in the Irish press.

The house my brothers and I grew up in Laurelton had a porch on its front. It was not that big but it was big enough to play there on good or bad weather days. I can only think of one other house on the street that had a porch and because my parents were very welcoming, ours was a popular bad weather hangout. When the weather was right the porch was also a comfortable place to sit and read and talk.

Rain is capable of being both a positive and a negative. I love the color intensity of nature’s green after a much needed rain, Flowers, plants, grass that had started to lose their vibrancy rebound with vigor after such a rain. The negative only comes when the rain is excessive. Is there a life lesson in that – it is possible to have too much of a good thing – like a yummy desert?

Last summer I planted some flower seeds in the front of our house, in the garden area that houses a cherry tree and a variety of complimentary shrubs. Well the seed went wild treating us to an interesting array of summer and fall flowers. We liked it so much that this year we bought some more, but different seeds. When I was about to spread the seed I realized that there were a variety of different sprouts breaking through the ground. Instead I spread the seed in a mix of patio planters in the backyard and waited to see what the front yard growth would yield. All I can say is “wow”. Right now the larkspur plants are the show stoppers. They are mostly blue/purple, mixed with a few pink and white. There are more plants getting ready to flaunt their beauty and we are excited to see their yield.

Rain has always made me feel very reflective. It can easily interfere with the plans of the day but so often when that happens, how the day turns out is frequently better than what was originally scheduled. Heading to Ocean Grove for Memorial Day Weekend we were all very realistic that the trip home might be a car traveler’s nightmare. Work and school made traveling that day for us mandatory. Well there was rain on Memorial Day, but not all day. We had good beach time and refreshing walks on the boardwalk. We occasionally got a little rain wet but not that bad. The drive home had some spots of traffic but nothing like what we expected. When we hit Virginia the roads were comparatively empty. It was a little eerie. We were back by about six pm- usually a heavy traffic time – we were not complaining – just grateful.

This trip yielded more reflection on rainy days. I love the quote from Dolly Parton: “The way I see it , if you want the rainbow you have to put up with the rain”.

A PS to this blog. About ten days ago I had Mohs surgery on my face for skin cancer. This is a procedure I have undergone several times before but not to the extent of this time. The scar extends from just to the side of my right eye down to my lips. Big, ugly pressure bandage to be worn for 48 hours. Daily care for the wound was simple. Instructions were that in about a month there would be aesthetic improvement at the scar site. During pressure bandage time I mostly hibernated at home. But when the dressing was removed I wanted to get out and about. Except for a slight overdose of pride on my part caused by the unpleasant looking scar, I felt good. We had Khushi’s college graduation to celebrate and Liam’s 20th birthday. Liam and Brian and Atar and Meg had come from Pennsylvania to honor Khushi and because Liam wanted a celebration with his cousins to kick off his birthday festival.

When I left hibernation I experienced three basic reactions and variations on these reactions. A close friend hugged me on greeting but then the whole time we talked she focused on the side of my face that didn’t have the ugly scar. Then there were those who talked to me a lot – without looking at my face. And then there was Liam who looking at me squarely in the face said “Grandma does it hurt?” When I said “yes, but it is getting better” , he replied “that’s good” and except for occasionally checking in on how I was doing, our visit time proceeded as usual. Many reactions have been a variation of Liam’s reaction. But a fair number have fit into the first two categories. I personally am most comfortable with the Liam type reaction.

On April 7 ten family members ran in the Washington DC Cherry Blossom run . The night before the race the Constance Family hosted a pasta dinner gathering. And the next day, after the race, the Leibolds hosted a celebratory brunch. Both events were very special and brought back many happy memories. This race and the Marine Corps Marathon and track and cross country have quite a tradition in our family.

My brother Bud ran his first marathon at age 60 and my husband Jerry has been a triathlete. From North Carolina to New Jersey Jerry competed in some diverse triathlons. It was always exciting to be there cheering him on. It is no surprise that our five children like to run and the same can be said for our grandchildren – in varying degrees. We have some pretty good runners in the family.

Growing up on 224th Street in Laurelton, Long Island there were lots of children to play with. Aside from the usual kids games of hide and seek, tag, stickball, roller skating, etc., the layout of the street was very conducive to running races which eventually morphed into running around the block. Or you could go half way around the block and cut through the vacant lot behind our house into our backyard and reach the finish line that way. I did pretty well in the running races- both the full race and the half way around race. It was only in my very early teen years when I was starting to develop an interest in boys that I also started to question the value of winning these races. Some of the boys were not very fast.

The all girls high school that I attended did not offer track as an extra curricular activity. And in my four semesters at Marymount College in New York City before moving on to Cornell University’s BS Nursing program, I only had time for one extra curricular activity and I chose the Collegiate Council for the United Nations. But I never lost my love of running or my respect for the importance of exercise.

The month of April was birthday time for our firstborn daughter Maura and for me. When I was pregnant with Maura it was back in the day when you did not find out the sex of the baby till their actual birth. I was hoping for a girl since our first child was a boy – appropriately named after his father. When Maura was born I was beside myself with happiness that we now had a son and a daughter . She was fifteen months younger than her brother Jerry who was just starting to show an interest in walking. Of our five children three did not walk alone till they were eighteen months. The other two were walking at about a year.

At first I wanted our baby number two to be born on my birthday but when Maura came ten days earlier I was alright with that. Birthdays are very special and each person in a nuclear family deserves their own time of celebration.

When we had our five children in just a little under six years we became very focused on making each individual birthday celebration special. Starting when the children were of an age where their birthdays had special meaning for them, each child had a family party, a friend party and dinner out by themselves with Mom and Dad. And we introduced the birthday questions. To this day we still do the birthday questions and we have a family party.

This year Meg, Atar, and Liam came from Pennsylvania for my birthday celebration. Their gift was to prepare the birthday meals for my celebration. I was given two yummy birthday dinners. The first completely prepared by Atar featured a yummy shrimp and broccoli combination that was from a New York Times recipe. The second was a ratatouille and beet salad prepared by Meg. Dessert was an amazing carrot cake (my favorite) made from scratch by Atar. And there were chocolate chip cookies which Liam has become quite the expert at putting together. And there was amazing raisin bread made from scratch by Atar.

Being able to celebrate with the Mac Curtins, the Jim Fergusons, and the Constance Family was a total blessing. And the blessing was magnified by texts and phone calls from far away family and friends. And following our family tradition I was asked the birthday questions. Perhaps the greatest benefit of these questions is the family love that prompts them and the focus they put on what each of us values in life.

The birthday questions: What is the best thing that happened to you in the past year? What are you most looking forward to in the coming year? What do you want to be when you grow up? What is your spirit animal? The spirit animal question was probably added in the last ten years and that has been a fun addition. Maybe one day I will blog on my answers to these questions.

My birthday festival was nicely brought to a close by a Tuesday night dinner at the Cafe Renaissance with my brother Pete and his wife Louise. This has become a favorite for us, half way between both our homes.

With nineteen grandchildren sometimes we have a fair number of graduations falling at about the same time but this year there has only been one – Khushi graduating from Mary Washington College. We are very proud of her. She has headed up COAR – a student run service program. Khushi received special recognition from the university for her outstanding leadership of this organization.

Today has been a misty , rainy day. I was able to get a little gardening in, in between the rain drops. Am looking forward to the flowers I hope will be the result of today’s endeavors. A quote that resonates with me is one I recently read by Ralph Waldo Emerson: “The Earth laughs in flowers”.

Growing up music was not a part of my life . Then great Auny Mary decided that I needed to take piano lessons. By that time I was a student in the local parochial school where one of the nuns taught piano. It was the post depression era of the 1940’s . Though money was tight in our family Aunt Mary’s generous offer to pay for piano lessons convinced my parents that it was time for me to give the piano a try.

Neither of my parents was musical. Not sure that they realized that neither were their children. On my father’s side of the family I do not remember music assuming that much importance but on my mother’s side it was very important. My maternal grandparents were married in 1900. After giving birth to Uncle Don born in 1902, and my mother and her twin sister born in 1903 their mother only lived three more years. She succumbed to cancer in 1905.

Though Mom’s father died the day my brother Bud started high school – so I was around nine years old – I remember him very well. He was kind and caring and he played the piano at family gatherings. He married Nana in 1908. And Nana devoted herself to the three small children who had lost their birth mother. My mother loved her stepmother very much but on occasion would talk of missing her birth mother.

In our two story home in Laurelton the stairs had a platform at the third stair which enabled the direction of the stairs to change and head up to the second floor. My parents who thought their children were multi talented, would frequently have my brothers and I stand on that platform stair and entertain company. It is now so long ago that I do not remember exactly what my brothers and I did to entertain company. But, I believe singing was a part of it.

My parents had met in law school. They were married along with my mother’s twin,Marg, and her fiancee Jim Murphy, in 1930, in a double ceremony. The two couples first lived in New Jersey. They shared a house with Marg and Jim. Dad had paid for law school by working as a teacher for the New York City Board of Education. In the post depression era my father was hesitant to give up his teaching job. When New York City started to require that all its employees be residents of New York City, my parents moved with their young family to an apartment in New York City – in the same apartment complex as Aunt Marg and Uncle Jim and their small children. Marg and Jim had decided that it was also time for them to return to the City. By the time I was two and a half we had relocated to the house in Laurelton, Long Island that my parents stayed in for almost the next 30 years. My father liked teaching and the financial security that it offered. He never gave up teaching till he retired.

Once they moved into their Laurelton home Mom and Dad developed their own real estate and estate law practice that with time became very successful, but initially it was slow going. The 30’s and 40’s – the post depression and World War 2 period were difficult financial times for many folks. My father took on extra jobs offered by the Bard of Education. He became director ( I think that was his title ) of one of their summer playground programs. I loved going to work with him and participating in the various playground activities. And it was in one of those playground activities that I had my comeuppance regarding my musical talents. As the playground director Dad had under him someone in charge of sport activities and someone in charge of all other activities. When the person “in charge of all other activities” decided to put on a show I was pretty excited. I thought I would go for the lead singing part. My best friend at the playground decided to tryout for the same part. I wasn’t worried. I was used to performing – at home , on that third stair. At tryout time I went first. I cringe a little now when I think about it. When my friend got up to sing I knew right away she had the part. She had a beautiful voice. As I watched and listened I think it was the first time I really understood what it meant to carry a tune. I got an acting part – not a singing part. I didn’t deserve a singing part- my friend did.

In high school there was one more time that I tried out for a musical part. But this time it was with full knowledge that I was out of my element. Most of my friends belonged to the glee club, they loved it and wanted me to be a part of the good times they were having. It was very thoughtful but by this time I fully realized that I did not belong in a glee club. I actually had found my activity home in the Genesians, the acting club. When my friends wouldn’t give up on their insistence that I participate in glee club tryouts I finally agreed. The tryout was the disaster I expected. As I look back on it now I am amazed that I even agreed to tryout. I was not even embarrassed that I was there. I guess it was because I had landed a pretty good role in the next production of the acting club.

The summer I was fifteen our parish church decided to participate in a Catholic Youth Organization play competition. My brother Pete and I were both successful in trying out for parts. I was Matilda – a rich spinster and Pete was my nephew, Harold. The play was THE RED LAMP. We had so much fun. But, I don’t remember that we won any prizes.

My high school acting experience was also very enjoyable. The teacher who ran the Genesians had a fondness for Irish plays which meant if you wanted a role you had to be a master of the Irish brogue. The brogue came easy to me with my paternal Irish grandparents and my father who took pleasure in speaking with a brogue. And I also had the advantage in my all girls high school that with two older brothers I had easy access to guys clothing. My biggest role was as an Irish cop. I landed that part pretty easily. I had the brogue and I was able to wear the ROTC uniform that my brothers wore at their all-boys high school. I felt like I was appropriately dressed for the part.

I think it was the summer before Pete’s senior year in high school that one of his friends decided to have a beach party, that I also was invited to. It would be at night, around a fire and there would be a lot of singing. I had mixed feelings about the invite. By this time I was pretty realistic about my singing ability. Pete suggested that we learn the first lines of songs that were popular at that time. That proved not hard to do and actually was a nice gateway to feeling a part of the group.

I used to pray that if God wanted to do a pretty dramatic miracle He would gift me with a good singing voice. That never happened but the gift I did get was a beloved husband who is very musical and we have five very musical children. And nineteen musical grandchildren. I love it when my husband just spontaneously bursts into song. And when we have family gatherings and there is time set aside for group singing.

This past Easter we had three days of family gatherings. Alec, one of our college student grandchildren, brought his guitar. It was a special treat when he played and sang some of the songs that he has written.

When we have our family beach week, one night is set aside as our family talent night. Music plays a major role in the activities of that evening. It is very special when Jerry and our various children and grandchildren get up and showcase their talents.

Recently son Jim made a copy of a tape the family sang and sent to Joe when he was with the Peace Corps in Sierra Leone in the 1980’s. It was a tape of all the family singing the various parts of WE ARE THE WORLD. Jim sent a copy to each of us. Jerry and I loved it. It was a tape full of love and support for Joe as he carried out his Peace Corps obligations. And proud mother that I am, I thought it did a good job of showcasing the family musical talents.

Having lived these past almost sixty three plus years in a very musical environment, I feel very blessed. It has expanded my horizons.

There is a quote by the actor Neil Harris about performing that I feel applies very appropriately to life in general – You can have the smallest role in the smallest production and still have a big impact.

,

In today’s political environment there is so much talk about age. It appears that a major focus of the Republican Party in their campaign to oust Joe Biden from the presidency is to paint him as a doddering, inept senior. Maybe the fact that Biden is younger than both my husband and myself, I find myself getting truly annoyed by these efforts.

Everybody makes mistakes and that includes verbal mishaps. If Biden does it is a sure sign of his inability to lead. – so says the opposition. If Trump is the culprit, well no big deal. I do not agree with Biden and his up to now not taking a more public stance against the carnage in Gaza. But aside from that truly horrible situation, I feel Biden has been a good president. If Trump were to win the election, I fear for our democracy. Age effects each one of us differently. I have faith in Biden that if he does not feel he can not do the job he will step down.

Age is truly just a number and each of us is effected differently by that number. Great Aunt Mary, ( my mother’s father’s sister), died at 97. Though physically in her later yers she gradually lost her mobility, mentally she was sharp as a tack. So was Aunt Bette ( my father’s brother’s wife). All the family gathered for her 100th birthday and it was a loving, happy celebration.

Getting older does take some adjusting to society’s perception of what it means to be older. So many of our family and friends have lived into their eighties and nineties. It has been truly a blessing.

I am a breast cancer survivor and was always very faithful to the prescribed medical followup. When I hit eighty our internist said it was not necessary to get the annual mammogram anymore. I was a bit taken aback. That feeling was compounded by getting a postcard from the gastro doctor reminding me that it was colonoscopy time. The card directed me to make an appointment with him and to set a date for my next colonoscopy. I quickly made the appointment. And when I saw the gastro doctor, after a very warm greeting, he said “why are you here?” When I mentioned the postcard he got very apologetic and said that the postcard was a mistake, that once a patient reached eighty the value of a colonoscopy had to be weighed against the dangers of a person of that age undergoing such a procedure. He said his staff never should have sent the postcard. I felt that both the mammogram and colonoscopy incidents were sort of in your face age reminders.

Recently Jerry and I went to the funeral of an old friend whom we had come to know, years ago, through our church. It was a very moving and special liturgy. Again I thought of Great Aunt Mary and of Aunt Bette. Though they both were vibrant spirits till they died they shared that it was not easy when you lost good friends on your way to old age.

I was a young teen when I first learned about facelifts. I was visiting my grandmother at Spring Lake. on the New Jersey shore. ( As I mentioned in a previous blog, Spring Lake is about ten – fifteen minutes from Ocean Grove where our son Jerry and his wife Teresa have a beach home.) It was after my Grandfather died that my mother’s step-mom, Nana , started inviting her granddaughters, individually, to spend some time with her at the shore. Nana liked to walk. She and Grandfather had been coming to Spring Lake for a long time. She knew many people. Often on our walks we stopped and chatted with her friends. One time a women passed us who smiled at me and Nana, and then kept walking. When she was out of earshot I asked Nana who she was. Nana replied that she was Mrs. A – part of a very famous family. And Nana added she had a facelift. It was not a word I knew and I asked for an explanation. I don’t remember exactly what Nana said but the gist of her explanation was that it was something that women got who had a lot of money and who didn’t like the thought of getting old. Since I had been brought up to cherish those who were older I was very confused. But I didn’t spend much time thinking about this strange concept. I loved going in the ocean at Spring Lake and my thoughts were definitely more ocean centered.

Don’t think the word “facelift ” occupied much space in my thought patterns till I was in my seventies and I got a call one day from a friend who wanted me to know she had had a facelift. I was surprised as she appeared to me to be aging in an attractive manner. And also because I thought I knew her pretty well and thought she would have shared with me that she was considering such a momentous step.

This incident caused me to do a lot of reflecting on the concept of accepting who you are and making the most of the stage of life you are in.

I met my husband, Jerry, on March 5, 1960 in the aftermath of a snow storm which had hit Washington DC with particular vehemence. I was attempting to drive my car up the hill next to St. Matthews Cathedral. Jerry was in his car in front of me, and he navigated the hill with no problem. I kept sliding back down. After mastering the hill Jerry walked back over to the hill on his way into church. Watching my struggles he called out an offer of help which I gratefully accepted. When he got my car safely up the hill and parked we went into St. Matthews together. We were engaged four months later and married in November – nine months later. We have been blessed to age together for the past sixty-four years.

Most of our precious family who provide one of the main joys of aging. Work commitments often make it complicated to get a picture of everyone.