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.

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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.

As the saying goes ” time flies” and that certainly has been the case in this new year.  If for no other reason, January with all its family birthdays, has always been a special month. In January our family honors son Jerry; grandchildren: Annie, Khushi, Brian, Charlie, son-in-law Brendan and my brother Pete. January was also the birthday of our beloved Uncle Jim Murphy and of my dear friend Moira. Though when I was a child I may have felt Pete got a raw deal in the present department when sometimes he got a Merry Christmas/Happy Birthday gift, I have come to love the specialness of January with all its meaningful birthdays.

This January was a bit different with the various “to do’s” for Jerry’s impending knee replacement surgery. Fifteen years ago when Jerry had his right knee joint replaced he was in the hospital for five days post op. Pre op was so straightforward. We saw the surgeon, a decision was made for surgery, and the operation took place. This time after the pre op visit with the surgeon, there were many mandated “to do’s” before the January 22nd surgery. Perhaps the best one of these was the class we watched on the computer that spelled out pretty clearly the surgical and medical road ahead of us. This class was supplemented by a patient guide which elaborated on the details covered in the mandated class.

And now we are in February and Jerry is two plus weeks post op and making amazing progress. Today has been monumental! No more rented hospital bed, no more night time aide, no more in home physical therapist.

Early February also gives us two more special birthdays - for Kieran and and for her mom, Lane.

Jerry’s post surgery time and the care and concern of our precious family has made me reflect on the importance of giving support to those in need. Jerry and I are blessed with caring children and grandchildren. Meg, Jim, Maura, Lilly, Atar – their in person help has been amazing. and the calls and texts of everyone else have been powerful energy boosters,

Find myself reflecting on 1984 - 1985, the last nine months of my mother’s life, when she lived with us . She came for a visit, got sick, and was never well enough to return home. She was unable to climb the stairs to our second floor so we turned our dining room into her bedroom. And we blocked off the hallway entrance to the living room and those two rooms became her living quarters. And when we hired a lovely woman to tend to my mother’s night time needs, we had a bed for her in the revamped living room.

At that time our five children were either working, away in college or in high school. When they were home they were awesome supports. And various neighbors would call and ask if there was anything they could do to help. I have never been very good about asking for help. In a strange twist a neighbor, Jean, whom I was not that close to, became an incredible help. She would routinely call and say I am off to the grocery store in an hour. On my way I will stop by and get a list of what you need. I came to rely on her calls . I didn’t feel like I was imposing because she was off to the store anyway. Many store trips later it dawned on me that Jean was just very creative in her offer of help.

Have been Googling various quotes on helping others. There are so many to choose from. I particularly relate to the words of Mother Teresa of Calcutta : We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.

It is that time of year again when we reflect on the past and make plans for a future that is minus previous goofs. At one of our holiday gatherings when we went around the dinner table sharing New Year’s resolutions I took the option to keep mine to myself. It is a resolution that I have tried before and didn’t succeed at. This year I am trying again – without the pressure of folks knowing my plans. Tune in at the end of 2024 and I will let you know how it goes,

Several days before the 25th we went with Jim, Lisa, Annie, Jimmy, Meggie and Josh to the Kennedy Center Christmas show. With the music and the singing it was such an amazing holiday treat.

The week between Christmas and New Years was blessed with some precious family time and with preparations for Jerry’s knee surgery on January 22. Unfortunately I woke up the morning of the 28th with a head cold which I did not want to share with my beloved husband and cause his knee surgery to be postponed. After a day of feeling crummy I took a Covid test and was not happy it came back positive. Some pretty fun plans had to be cancelled like taking Annie out for a very special dinner to honor her January 2 birthday. She returned to her job in Madrid on the 4th of January so missing our special dinner was a real bummer.

Atar had asked that her Christmas present from Jerry and me would also be a special dinner. We love our children and grandchildren dearly. When we are all gathered together it is very awesome, but it is also very awesome when we have a one on one time. Initially I did not take my forced Covid isolation very graciously but I finally I got my act together and focused on the blessed times we had been having. It was not the end of the world even if I was feeling like it was.

Fortunately I was feeling fine when we hosted the big family Christmas gathering. Wth Lilly and Atar and every body pitching in and the older adult table in the dining room( 10 in number) and the younger adults( 14 in number) in the living room, dinner time passed too quickly. It was fun hearing the laughter and applause that came from living room. Then there was the singing and the gift exchange. Kind of the icing on the cake of a very special day.

On January 6, with my Covid under control, we went with the Constance Family to SWEPT AWAY at the Arena stage. When we were younger we had seasons tickets to the Arena but this was the first time in years that we had been back. It stirred up so many wonderful memories of going to shows there with my parents, with my brother and his wife and with other friends.

SWEPT AWAY was a very powerful musical that did justice to the combined themes of forgiveness and redemption. An added and small world kind of treat was that some old and good college friends of our son Jerry were also in the audience. Two of them in fact were in the row right behind us. It was fun talking with them all when the show was over. Wonder if SWEPT AWAY is headed to Broadway. It is so good, it should be!

Now is crunch time for Jerry’s surgery. It should be in 8 days but unfortunately Jerry has a cold. Fortunately, not Covid. He has tested negative three times. It would be a blessing if he could begin the New Year with a new knee.

Another amazing nature display from the deck of our beach condo

It’s been almost three weeks since we returned from our traditional and amazing family beach week. In late winter of each year, Grandpa Jerry studies the ocean tide charts and a decision is made about the timing of beach week – taking into account school start ups and job requirements.

Over the years we have developed various family traditions – beach week, the birthday questions, Thanksgiving sharing, a variety of Christmas traditions, etc. At this beach week we honored Joe and Alec and their birthdays.

As the grandchildren get older, we know that with jobs participating in beach week gets harder. This year Annie came from Madrid, Lilly from London, Emily and David from California, Charlie from Chicago. Everyone else lives on the East Coast – from New York to Virginia. Work kept Elsa from joining us but it was very special when she called and we dissected the specialness of beach week.

Before the start of our seven days in Wildwood Crest, Jerry and I spent two and a half days in Ocean Grove at son Jerry’s home. The trip was so smooth – Meg picked us up at the Philly train station and drove us the hour and a half to Ocean Gove. We had so much fun with Jerry and Meg and Emily and David who had flown in from California. Teresa was with some of her family but joined us for the last three days of our Wildwood Crest time. We also missed Lane and Kieran who were unable to join us but we still had thirty members of our nuclear family present for all or part of beach week.

The drive from Ocean Grove to Wildwood Crest was vey smooth.

Above we are outside the Frank Sinatra rest stop. We stopped there on our drive to Wildwood Crest. The Frank music, the Frank pictures brought out everyone’s inner Frank. What a great way to start off beach week!!!

Have never taken a poll on what family members consider to be the best part of beach week. There are so many contender suggestions. All the nineteen grandchildren are ocean comfortable so therefore are their parents. Quite a change from the children’s younger years when they were just developing that comfort, and vigilance by parents and by grandparents was the order of the day.

In earlier beach weeks each family took a turn providing a group family dinner. That worked well when the children were smaller and appetites were less. It meant that you only had to prepare dinner one night during beach week. Though that one night was challenging you had six nights when you could enjoy a yummy dinner prepared by someone else. When Covid hit we stopped that custom. This past beach week we had two pizza nights and there were some walks to the ice cream store for dessert.

Aside from riding in waves, four activities stand out: a family soccer game, bocce ball, beach walks and talent night.

Soccer games have become much more intense with the passage of time. Jerry and I enjoyed watching the family game. We may be a bit biased but we think the quality of the play is top notch.

A special thanks to son Jerry whose love of soccer is contagious. The beginning of beach week coincided with the start of the Women’s World Cup Soccer Championship. Jerry’s artful descriptions of the games have been a special treat. I think I would have enjoyed soccer as a player if it had been introduced to me at a young age. I loved running and I was a decent basketball player.

Never thought I would say this but bocce ball is more fun when you actually play rather than just watch. . For the first time I gave it a try this beach week . It worked for me to treat throwing the ball in a similar motion to the putting stroke and follow through of golf – a sport that I love. Don’t know why I haven’t tried bocce ball before but am glad I finally did. I actually came in second in one of the games.

One of the best traditions of our beach week is talent night. This usually happens toward the end of the week and is frequently preceded by some fun conversations and maybe even some practicing. There are no ground rules, no pressure and all are invited to participate. This year ten family members took to the “stage ” to entertain us with their music and guitars and words. Admitting to a bit of bragging on my part, I must say that Jerry and I have been blessed with some very talented children and grandchildren. As I have said many times before I would have loved it if God had gifted me with musical ability. But He did the next best thing when He gave me a musical husband, musical children, and musical grandchildren. I love it when different children/ grandchildren ask Grandpa Jerry to join them in their singing ventures. And I loved the solos by Alec and Quinn. When Lilly sang we got a taste of her upcoming performance at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I was very touched by Charlie’s decision to share the tale which won him second place in a Pride Month Story Slam in Chicago. It was also very moving when Maura and Paul made their debut performance.

We are very proud of the caring and compassionate young adults whom we are blessed to call our grandchildren. Don’t know where this quote came from but it is spot on : If children are the rainbow of life , then grandchildren are the pot of gold.

We are so blessed!!!

PS – Tried photo shopping in – with no success – the missing beloved family members. ‘Tis a skill to be learned.

Which road should Jerry and I follow? Is it time for us to downsize? When I was younger I thought that youth was the time of major decision making. When you got older you just coasted along on your past good or maybe not so good decisions. Having now arrived at the “golden age” I realize that thoughtful decision making is just as important – at any age.

Our present home has been our wedding house. In our sixty -two and a half years of married life we have owned three homes. This house where we live now we have lived in for the past 33 + years. It has hosted the wedding excitement of our five children. It is where we were living when all of our nineteen grandchildren were born. So many happy memories. We love being able to house our out of town families when they come to visit. And it has been a blessing to have our two local families live in the city of Falls Church – a short 20 to 25 minutes away. We have very caring neighbors. We have a wonderful church community. We have a golf club five minutes away with a challenging and beautiful course that we thoroughly enjoy playing. Every three weeks we have an excellent cleaning crew who help us keep the house in order. And we have competent help with lawn care and house repairs. With this good support system we have put in place, it would seem like we should be able to continue life in our present home.

Jerry and I are in reasonably good health but we fully appreciate that could change with the blink of an eye. Recently we lost a dear friend, Jack. He was in the hospital following orthopedic cancer surgery. When we talked with his wife the day before he died, she was so relieved he was doing so well – there was even talk of his being discharged. And then the next day he died.

Our home does not have any bedrooms on the first floor. There are 14 steps to the second floor. Architecturally speaking these stairs do not lend themselves to having a lift installed. Right now we manage the stairs fine – but that could change. And in this age of creativity perhaps there now has been developed a lift that would work. There is a first floor bathroom, a den, and a living room that could easily be converted to a bedroom, though I hate the thought of tampering with the house. It is truly my dream house as it is.

The backyard and patio are ideal. Lots of privacy. There are woods on two sides. When I reached my eighties I gave up on being creative with the garden. I now give my plant energy to patio plants though I have an ongoing battle with the deer. This year I would say that so far the deer are winning. When I was recovering from pneumonia in the spring I think my head was a little fuzzy and in setting up the patio container planters, I mixed in some deer favorites with the reliable plants that I knew the deer avoided. One evening I admired the patio plants before going to bed. The next day the plants that were deer favorites were gone – devoured I can only assume by the deer. I was bummed.

We have four bird feeders – two for all birds – and we get a lot of action at those feeders – and two just for the hummingbirds. One of the hummingbird feeders attaches to a family room window. I was aware of the hummingbird window feeders for years but could not imagine they actually worked. Wow was I wrong! This feeder gets many hummingbird visitors. You can get very close but you must stay perfectly still if you want to watch the hummingbirds as they devour the drink in their feeders. Hummingbirds are very sensitive to any sign of movement. All the birds are a source of continuous beauty and pleasure.

Should Jerry and I move to a continuing care community? It is a tough decision. It is a decision I pray about daily. We are very independent. But if we are not the oldest couple in our community we certainly are one of the oldest. Our very active church does serve folks of all ages. I wonder about the parishioners who are our contemporaries. Are they living independently or living in senior communities, or living with their children or have caretakers. When I signed up earlier this year to be a lector at morning mass I was afraid I would faint from nervousness but I have gotten over my fear and I love doing it. At our golf club we are definitely the oldest active golfers. But we positively hold our own. It very special to share this sport that we love with our family.

So what should we do? I spoke today with a friend in Florida who in the past year moved with her husband to a continuing care community following a bad fall. It has worked out very well for them but she wishes they had done some preliminary research before it became a must move situation. And we do not want our children to have to be making the decisions that we should have made.

There is a quote on aging by Betty Friedan that resonates with me : “Aging is not lost youth but a new stage of opportunity and strength.” I like to think that she is right. It is just that you do not know how long the strength part will be with you.

This blog was not originally going to be about hacking, but then I was, and my blogging plans changed. This is my second experience with this modern day electronic evil. The first time was about 4 years ago. If I was upset then, this time I am angry, disgusted and upset. It is such an invasion of privacy.

Several days ago I got an e-mail from the hacker informing me in graphic detail of what he had already done and of what more he planned to do. And he asked for money – assuring me that this was the only time he would make such a request. I did not believe him.

The first time I was hacked I contacted my Computer server immediately. The department I was referred to said the hacking was a little more in depth then normally dealt with by their department and they referred me on to their “Genius Bar”. Though this service came at a price it was well worth it because the hacker had had a fun ( for him) time shutting down a number of my essential computer services.

My recent hacking was even worse and then there was the demand for money. I went right to the Genius Bar of my server. The two technicians who worked with me were excellent . It involved about five hours of phone time for the techs to do their part. And then they recommended that since my computer was an Apple that I also follow up with an appointment at the Apple Genius Bar. They had high praise for the Apple equipment that dealt with hacking and since mine had been a particularly devious job they felt that an Apple visit was definitely warranted. Again I got great tech support which ended with the technician saying that once I changed all my passwords I could feel confident in the safety of my computer. Changing passwords has been a slow and tedious job.

But in spite of the annoyance of the hacking, these past weeks have been full of particularly happy family times helping me to keep my priorities straight. For one thing there were four very special graduations: Vaishnavi from Meridian high school, Meggie and Quinn from the University of Virginia and Emily from the doctoral program at the University of California, Santa Barbara. We are so proud of these new graduates and of all our grandchildren.

Another bit of family happiness that helped to cleanse my mind from the hacker and his disturbing plan to post a video to the web of a story that he claimed to have created from my computer activities, if I did not immediately send the money he was demanding, was the twenty four hour visit of Emily and David. ( They had briefly flown East for a wedding. )All our local family gathered to be with them. It was so much fun.

And they were followed by a visit from Meg, Brian, Liam, and Atar. With the yummy food prepared by Atar and Meg and golfing with Brian and Liam, there was no time for thoughts of the evil hacker.

I find myself again thinking of my mother’s oft repeated words. She wanted to be around to see how her nine extraordinary grandchildren used their God given talents.

It is all too easy in life to let the negative happenings dominate our thoughts and actions. There is a quote from Elvis Presley that I find very meaningful: When things go wrong, don’t go with them.