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!!!



In this time of political turmoil – when will Trump stop claiming that he won the election, etc – it is renewing and spiritually uplifting to focus on the Advent season and the days leading up to Christmas. I have always loved this liturgical season. A week ago our two local families joined us for dinner . We placed our Advent wreath in the center of our socially distant family circle and lit two of the four candles since it was the second Sunday of Advent. Husband Jerry led us in prayer. It was a brief but meaningful start to our family gathering.

In the center of the wreath is a slightly falling apart Christmas angel. This is the first Christmas ornament that Jerry and I bought sixty years ago as we prepared to celebrate our first Christmas together. The angel used to have a place of honor on our Christmas trees but as it got more fragile we moved it to a more protected spot in the center of our Advent wreath. A lot of memories have faded for me but not when we bought this angel. Since we were newly married we had no Christmas decorations. One Saturday in early December 1960 we went shopping for Christmas decorations. It was so important to me that the first ornament we purchased would have special meaning. When we found the little angel, she fulfilled all our requirements. The angel is faded and a bit worn now – but then perhaps so are we.

The pandemic is not conducive to spending a lot of time on Christmas decorating because who is going to actually see the decorations. Though our local families come weekly to share Sunday dinner they are only in our house briefly because they are so conscientious about social distancing. We gather around the fire pit – weather permitting – on the patio, or in our garage with heat lamps. The garage might actually sound like a strange setting for family gatherings but we are fortunate to have an oversized two car garage which without cars in place is really quite roomy. Though as it gets colder and there is a weather induced need to keep the garage doors closed, the local families may each start coming on alternate weeks because social distancing in a garage where the doors are closed is not conducive to good social distancing.

My negative thoughts about decorating were actually short lived. We are not going to let Covid 19 dictate our holiday decorations. It will show its annoying presence in limiting our holiday get togethers but we are decorating according to our family traditions. The Advent wreath, the Creche or Manger, the wreath on our front door, the ropes of evergreens wrapped around our stair railings, the Christmas stockings I made for each of the children when they were small, the Christmas stockings that our daughter Maura crocheted for Jerry and me when she was a young teen, the Christmas star where Jerry, Maura, Joe, Jim and Meg each decorated one of the points of the star which has graced the tops of our Christmas trees since 1976, these and many more Christmas treasures are gradually being lovingly placed around the house. Grandson Jimmy started a collection of Christmas figures for us in, I think it was 2008. It is a collection which we treasure. We have so many Christmas treasures from our children, grandchildren and friends – we have always honored these treasures and will continue to do so this year.

When the children were small we had only one Christmas manger- along with the Advent Wreath it was a staple of our Christmas decorating. In early December we put the stable, with its animals on a prominent shelf in the far end of our living room. Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus, and the Shepards and the Wise Men were placed on a table at the entrance to the living room. We talked with the children about the meaning of the Manger. They were allowed to play with the figures and as the days passed they were encouraged to slowly move them around the room, closer to the waiting Creche. With five small children playing with these ceramic figures, the figures gradually lost an appendage or two but Jerry and I were OK with that. We wanted the Christmas story to be real for our children.

We were not opposed to focusing on Santa Claus during the Christmas season. We just did not want the visitor from the North Pole to be the main focus.

From an early age, our children loved performing. They were very excited when we proposed a Christmas tableau of the Manger scene. The performance took place on either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. I think this tradition started the year son Jerry was 4. He was a natural to be Joseph; Maura age three was Mary; Joe age two was a shepherd; six month old Jim in his infant seat was Baby Jesus. The following year the tableau was repeated – Jim at age one and a half became a shepherd and 6 week old Meg was Baby Jesus. I don’t know how many years we repeated this tableau but it is a memory I will always treasure.

Our family was blessed to have two wonderful sets of grandparents who doted on their grandchildren. Jerry was an only child but I had two older brothers, Bud was a Jesuit priest who spoiled us with his love, his caring and his home masses. When he died several years ago he left a void that will never be filled. My brother Pete and his wife Louise and their four daughters have always been an amazing and meaningful part of our life and our holiday celebrations. With the passage of time and the growth in our family sizes we no longer spend the actual holidays together. But we continue to get together for a brunch and a Christmas sing a long. Though in this year of Covid 19 there will be no sing a long.

This past Thursday and Jerry and I went shopping for our Christmas tree. In our sixty years of married life we have always had a big tree. In recent years it has gotten harder for us to actually put up and decorate a big tree and to take it down when the time came. Just as when we were newlyweds we searched for a meaningful first ornament, now we wanted a pretty but very manageable little tree. Such a purchase was an unspoken acknowledgement of our age and our capabilities. It was a bit difficult to accept but it was the right thing to do. When we brought the tree home we placed it on the now empty sturdy storage container where we stored all our Christmas lights. Covering the container with a green material that perfectly hides the container, it provides a pleasing and stable resting place for the tree. And once Jerry put the lights on the tree and we put our cherished star in place we were captivated by the tree. It is truly lovely. The decorations that used to adorn our big trees are now displayed in various easy to manage ways around the house.

The restricted socialization brought about by Covid 19 is at times difficult to accept. But it does promote introspection during this special Advent time. As Fr Joe Brennan OSFS recently wrote in our parish newsletter: “As challenging as these times are for us, I pray that all of us live in the hope that our faith proclaims that our God loves us so much that he sent us a savior, Jesus Christ the Lord. May our hope be expressed in the way we treat one another, especially the least among us”

Photo by granddaughter Claire – last night’s family gathering around
the fire pit, as we said prayers for the third Sunday of Advent – Gaudete!!!


Joe Biden speaking at Wilmington , Delaware rally the night he was declared President-elec and the interregnum began

According to the Merriam -Webster dictionary, ‘interregnum” is 1: the time during which a throne is vacant between two successive reigns or regimes. 2: a period during which during the normal functions of government or control are suspended. Our beloved country is right now experiencing a bewildering interregnum. The current occupant of the White House has lost his bid for reelection but won’t acknowledge the reality of what has happened. In about two months he will either leave the White House on his own or be escorted from it. During the days leading up to the election and now with the election results being disputed by Trump with no evidence to prove his baseless claims, I still worry about our country and what the American future might have held for our children and grandchildren if there were four more years of Trump’s questionable leadership.

Election night was not a good sleeping night. When Florida was called for Trump I was really concerned about what lay ahead. I like to think of myself as someone who is open to opposing points of view in many areas including the political arena. But since Trump came into power I am not so open politically. He lies – his followers say that is fake news – but when you can yourself see the video where he is expounding falsehoods – how can these untruths be classified as fake news. He is demeaning of women, the handicapped, the men and women serving our country in the armed forces, war heroes, etc.

There is video proof of all these behaviors. I find it particularly annoying to be told “he is just rough around the edges”. And he has lied about his finances. His handling of the pandemic is absolutely disgraceful – thousands of lives have been lost needlessly.

I have always been so proud to be an American. Trump has successfully diminished that feeling in me and now with his refusal to acknowledge his election loss I am finding this “interregnum” period very stressful. Trump is a cry baby and a sore looser. So far his refusal to open the government to Biden’s transition team is both a national security risk and a health risk. There must be coordination between the two administrations so the Biden coronavirus team can” hit the ground running”. Trump has from the beginning publicly downplayed the significance of the pandemic. I have come to believe that while he might be a great showman he does not really care about the people he governs.

Pandemic cases and deaths are rising. But there is hope in the announcements of the viability of two vaccines. But they won’t be available immediately. There is a lot of preparation that must be done to facilitate the distribution of the vaccine. Trump has not been to a Covid task force meeting in five months. It is comforting that Joe Biden has made the pandemic one of his top priorities and has put together a team of top scientists.But there must be interaction between Trump’s pandemic team and the team Biden has put together. There is so much work to do and Trump’s delay in accepting the election results could be responsible for many more unnecessary Covid deaths.

The political and social devisions in the country today seem so glaring and at times almost insurmountable. I certainly have been aware of such divisions down through the years but they have never effected me so powerfully as today’s unrest. I think so much about what the future holds for our children and our grandchildren. I am taken aback by the number of folks who voted for Trump, How can anybody want four more years of his obnoxious behavior? I feel hopeful when Joe Biden says that he will be the President for all Americans – that is what the office implies, that is what it means. In Trump’s refusal to concede the election he exhibits the behavior of someone looking after his own needs and not those of the county he is supposedly serving.

Ten years ago Jerry and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary. It was such a special occasion where our children , our grandchildren and precious friends gathered to celebrate with us. There was good food, lots of meaningful toasts, singing and dancing. One of our granddaughters called recently to chat and brought up the subject of our 50th celebration. She said that her memory was of such a happy gathering – she would have been eight at that time. We were planning on a similar celebration for our 60th which this year falls on Thanksgiving Day. I have always loved Thanksgiving celebrations and it just seemed so appropriate that our 60th fell on Thanksgiving when we had so much to be thankful for. Of course there is no way we can duplicate the 50th. In the past ten years we have lost dear friends; there has been the intrusion of health issues; some of our family structures have changed. Ten years ago we had a family portrait done and we wanted to update that to include the blessed additions to our family.

With the unrelenting pandemic we scaled back plans for our celebration. And then just started wondering if we should have any gathering at all. Finally our children decided that they would spread out their coming over three days to cut down on possible exposure. We wouldn’t have more than two families here at one time. It seemed like such a good plan but the more we reflected on our out of town families who would be making the trip back and forth on the same day we felt that it was too much of an act of love to let them do. We sent a group text to them all uninviting them and saying that it was old school to make a big deal about a 60th anniversary, that the modern way was to focus on the 61st.

Some might say that since the term” interregnum” was originally used to denote the time between the end of one royal reign and the beginning of another, it was not appropriate to use it as the title for this blog. I disagree. Trump has violated so many of our democratic norms he acts like one who believes he is royalty. He must concede. He must do what he can to promote a smooth transition of power. Where Trump’s focus appears to be focusing on promoting discord, Biden is focusing on bringing together the very divergent groups in our society.

It is inspiring that Biden even after his personal hardships and his failed Presidential attempts never let go of his dream of being President. I am very moved when he recites the words of the Irish poet Seamus Heaney: “History says, don’t hope on this side of the grave. But then, once in a lifetime the longed-for tidal wave of justice can rise up, and hope and history rhyme. “


According to the dictionary democracy is ” a government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly through a system of representation usually involving periodically held free elections.”

Since I wrote about the importance of voting in my last blog I was moving to a different topic this time around but I can’t seem to – I am consumed by those who are casual about this election. I just do not understand where they are coming from. We have recently watched the leader of our country who was himself stricken with Covid 19 – the virus which he said was “just going away “- make a Hollywood type departure from his three days at Walter Reed Hospital to return to the White House. While still at Walter Reed the President blithely tweeted advice to the American public – ” Don’t be afraid of Covid – I feel better than I have felt in years.” This from the man who has had the best medical care that this country can offer. And who has been on high doses of cortisone which can promote a false sense of euphoria. It was hoped that his brush with Covid would lead him to a more realistic approach to this deadly virus. It does not seem to have been the case. When Marine One returned him to the White House, the president climbed the steps to the south portico, obviously short of breath as he stood there gazing out, and proceeded to remove his mask. This was supposed to reassure the American people???

The President appears to have no concern for those around him: how his travels, his campaigning events, his social events – all of which disregard public health guidelines for containing the virus – are super spreaders for this disease. Until we get a vaccine, the most effective tools we have for curbing the virus are social distancing and mask wearing. Presently over 224 thousand people have died from the virus. Trump seems oblivious to the reality that most Americans are living.

Jerry and I have already deposited our ballots in the drop box at our local Government Center. I have no patience with attempts to paint early voting and absentee ballots as fraught with the possibility for fraud. Our experience was of organization and competence.

This is our country, our democracy. It is a prize possession and we must not value it lightly. And we must not let the core beliefs and teachings of our democracy be taken from us. I grew up accepting that the United States was the greatest country in the world but I don’t think I ever really stopped to ponder what made it so. It was my nineteen years with the Naomi Project – the mentoring program for high risk pregnant and newly parenting women that I started, directed and co- directed – that really brought home to me the meaning and the many values of a democracy. The majority of the women we worked with had sacrificed so much in leaving their native countries to come to America for a better life. Their first hand experience of poverty, mental abuse, physical abuse, social unrest , political turmoil was for me a graphic lesson on the value of a democracy.

I wanted to get actively involved in the election process earlier but health issues, the needs of some sick friends and some other commitments made that difficult. About two weeks ago I signed up for phone banking. The day before my scheduled phone banking commitment I went through a nation wide training ( over a 1000 volunteers participated) and was awed by how organized and scripted and over whelming the phone calling procedure is this time around. Four years ago when Jerry and I both made calls in the presidential race, we were handed a list of names and phone numbers, given a desk to sit at, a phone to use and encouraged to get started. The experience of going from almost no instruction to an overabundance of instruction was a bit daunting but definitely necessary. This time a phone calling tool would be making the actual calls and the job of the volunteer was to access this tool, to speak to voters and to quickly electronically record the results of the call before the phone calling device moved you on to the next call. There were about 45 seconds between calls. In this training there were so many electronic instructions. I could not help but think all these electronic instructions would be easier for Atar, our 13 year old granddaughter ! If I didn’t want to do this so badly – the present occupant of the White House must not be reelected – I would have given up.

Our son Jerry heads up his neighborhood Democratic Club in New York City. I decided to do my phone calls under the auspices of his club. There are so many opportunities for volunteering locally I was finding it very confusing. And since phone banks call various states decided on by the Democratic Party it really didn’t make much difference which phone bank I volunteered with. That turned out to be a smart decision on my part. Jerry, working with a co -captain, was heading up his clubs training. I only wish I had realized they were providing their own training. It was clear, concise and actually pretty easy to follow. After about a half hour training we started making calls. It was at times frustrating – when somehow a Republican’s name and phone number had made its way on to the only Democrats list that we were calling – but for the most part it was very rewarding. Our purpose was to stress to the Democrats we talked with the importance of this election and the value of their individual vote. If they had not already voted we urged them to make a voting plan. If they had voting questions we either answered them – if we could – or referred them on to those who would be able to do so.

Two calls stand out for me. Both of them were early voters. One was with a young man who felt so strongly about the election. He had a contagious enthusiasm for the privilege of voting. He kept thanking me for volunteering to be part of a phone bank. I wished that Gen Z members who are on the fence about voting could catch some of this young man’s enthusiasm.

The other was a with a woman who had just voted that day. She was very pleased with herself because voting lines were so long in her neighborhood but she had found a time to go when the lines were not that bad. She was sharing that information with her friends.

I will be phone banking one more time before the election. It makes me feel like I am doing something positive to preserve our democracy. As has been said, the best definition of democracy is “government by the people”. Every vote counts!!!


“People say, what is the sense of our small effort? They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time. A pebble cast into a pond causes ripples that spread in all directions. Each one of our thoughts, words, and deeds is like that. No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do.” – Dorothy Day.

For me these words of Dorothy Day ring so true in this troubled time of Covid 19, mixed with pre election hype, worries and fears. As I write this there are thirty- nine days till Election Day. The current occupant of the White House has said that unless he wins he may not accept the election results. His attempts to discredit mail in balloting are particularly disturbing in this pandemic time. My husband and I do not wish to do in person voting. About a month ago we applied for our mail in ballots. They have now arrived and today we will fill them out and hand deliver them to the drop box in our election district. Within the next week we plan to start participating in one of the political phone banks in our area but if there is none that works with our schedule, we will join the one run by the local Democratic Club in New York City headed up by our oldest son. These electronic times make so many things possible.

Born into a politically concerned family and carrying on the family tradition, I confess to being a political junkie and to always being intensely interested in the national elections and in state contests. When the children were young I joined the League of Women Voters – an activist group which helped me to stay abreast of current political issues and had a not too demanding commitment for a young mother with an expanding family.

I so clearly remember the 1960 election which occurred just a couple of weeks before Jerry and I were married. John Kennedy was a Catholic. I appreciated and supported his liberal views and certainly took pleasure in his Catholicism.

Al Smith, in 1928, was the first Catholic to be nominated for President. My beloved Uncle Jim – Aunt Marg’s husband – was part of the law firm that bore Al Smith’s name. From early on my brothers and I heard of Smith’s qualifications to be President but that he had been denied the honor because of his Catholicism. So it is no wonder that I took pleasure in the nomination of the second Catholic, John Fitzgerald Kennedy. I also felt a very remote but personal connection to Kennedy. His daughter Carolyn was born in 1957 at New York Hospital where I was a nursing student. Kennedy became friendly with Monsignor Wilders , the hospital chaplain who later officiated at Jerry’s and my wedding. Monsignor Wilders asked Kennedy if he would speak before the Newman Club – the Catholic club at the medical center for nursing students and medical students. Meeting attendance jumped from about thirty to over two hundred which with very short notice was pretty impressive.

Our daughter Maura was 7 months old and our son Jerry was 22 months old when Kennedy was assassinated. I remember that morning so well – going out to to our mailbox coincidently as the same time as our next door neighbor. She called over to me crying, “Have you heard the news? The President has been shot! ” I was in disbelief and hurried back in to my husband who was working from home that day. We turned on the TV and got the horrible details.

With sadness and determination the country eventually moved on from the death of Kennedy. With the ensuing years there have been many episodes of political unrest not only around the world but in our own country. But never in my memory has the political climate been so worrisome as it is in this election time.

Th United States has always been a beacon of hope, and of possibility and of democracy. We want our children and our nineteen wonderful grandchildren to experience the full possibilities of their country which is now definitely under fire. Can American democeacy survive a White House occupant who seems prepared to do whatever it takes to disregard election results and continue in office? I hope and pray so but it certainly is very scary.

Anyone who is eligible to vote must exercise this important right and obligation that comes with living in our democracy. This is not a special obligation of any particular age group. It is the duty of all who are eligible to vote. I have heard some, whose Democratic candidate was not chosen, say that while they do not want the current president to continue in office they can not bring themselves to vote for the Democratic candidate since he was not their original choice. There is not an option to not vote. The present occupant of the White House must be defeated by a landslide. our democracy is at stake!!!

As Al Smith famously said, “All the ills of democracy can be cured by more democracy”.


Butterfly visitor in our backyard

Jerry and I fully realize that in time we will have to downsize but for now we are enjoying our home’s many blessings. In this time of Covid 19 our local family comes once a week for an outside socially distant dinner – which they bring – always so yummy.

And then there are the animal and insect visitors, each with their own specialness : raccoons – one time I was sitting on the patio reading when I got the feeling that someone was watching me. I looked up to see a momma raccoon with four babies walking across the patio toward me. They were about ten feet away. I screamed in shock and scared the raccoon family. With much more dignity than I was displaying, momma raccoon made an abrupt turn and headed away from me and off the patio. The baby raccoons followed in single file. It was a precious sight which in retrospect I appreciate.

As I have noted in previous blogs the deer are frequent visitors. When we pull open the shades in the morning the first thing we check for is the presence of deer in our yard and hummingbirds at the feeder. A few days ago there were two deer nibbling at the leaves on the trees at the edge of the woods behind our house . They were quickly joined by two more who sauntered into our back yard. It is fine when they eat the wild plants that grow in the vinca at the top of our hill or when they lie down and sunbathe. For the most part I am moved by their majesty and grace. But when they come up on our patio and start nibbling on the tomato plants and the hydrangea and other edibles, I am not so pleased. Frequently in life we are faced with sorting out the good from the not so good. Deer for me fit into that category. I chase them away when they head toward the patio, otherwise I enjoy their antics.

Butterflies are incredibly delicate and beautiful insects. We have a butterfly bush which has been a perineal attractor of assorted butterflies – monarchs being the most common. This year we have been amazingly successful with our zinnia plants which I started from seed. Not only are the plants tall and proud but they are bursting with blooms and the butterflies just love them. So we got a twofer – beautiful plants and an assortment of beautiful butterflies.

We also have chipmunks, a fox and rabbits. The chipmunk is a frequent visitor who used to enjoy digging in the patio plant containers upsetting their plantings. One time after a particularly bad chipmunk attack I headed to our local garden center where they sold me ” the best spray to get rid of chipmunks” for fifteen dollars. The can was so small I thought I would be lucky if I got one meaningful spray out of it. I asked the salesman if there was anything available for less money and more content. He suggested I look at the ingredients on the can. The number one ingredient was red pepper flakes which the salesman said did equally well when sprinkled around a plant. I thanked him and took myself to the local grocery store where fortuitously red pepper flakes were on sale. Three containers cost in total five dollars and ninety nine cents. One container was equal in content to the spray can and just as effective. I know because I ran my own comparison test.

This year the chipmunks still seem to be very present in our yard but they devote themselves to scampering around and digging tunnels. On rare occasions the fox will spend time sniffing the yard but mainly we offer a cut through as he goes chasing after some animal smaller than he. One of its most favorite prey are the members of the rabbit family. We had so many wild rabbits in the spring. Haven’t seen any lately. The fox has been busy.

The best visitors to our back yard are family and friends,. Last Sunday we had the usual lovely socially distant Sunday gathering of our local families. Gatherings like this will be harder to pull off when we downsize. When they left they said to Jerry that when they came next they would celebrate his 85th birthday. Little did he know that they and our out of town children would all be gathering for a socially distant dinner birthday celebration the following Wednesday – in our back yard. The party was organized by our daughters Maura and Meg. I wondered if I could help facilitate the organization. Both daughters said “no”, just enjoy the celebration Their words seemed to be a direct reference to a line from a prayer in the book Our Daily Bread : ” Give us courage to embrace change, shifts and transitions with grace.” As parents we are used to being the organizers but then there comes a time when it is fitting for the children to take over.

Jerry’s birthday was yesterday. It was perfect in every way. There was a kind of rolling arrival of our children, which was great – and since the gathering was a surprise for Jerry he had plenty of time to bask in the pleasure of each arrival. They came from New Jersey, Pennsylvania , Richmond and locally from Falls Church with staggered arrivals starting at 2. The weather was ideal for eating outside and maintaining social distance. But best of all was the joy of our family gathering. Not only was Jerry being honored but also our grandson Jimmy. He turned 21 – another big milestone birthday. When Jimmy was born on Jerry’s birthday he was an incredible birthday gift.

We pray for the wisdom to accept change when it has to be, but for right now we continue to bask in the joys of our home of the past 30 years.

A taste of the birthday party festivities


Flowered kettle

When we left for Florida this past January I forgot to empty the water from our very serviceable kettle that we have had for perhaps the last twenty years. The morning after we returned home in mid March I was getting breakfast and picked up the kettle to fill it with water for making coffee. Only the kettle didn’t need water. It had enough water in it already to have successfully corroded its inside. Usually when we’ re going to be gone I am sure to empty the kettle – this time I forgot. We have always had very practical kettles with no bells and whistles, just very utilitarian. Our replacement has a musical whistle when the water is boiling; the handle doesn’t transmit heat so you don’t need a potholder to hold it ; and it is very pretty. A pretty kettle was never on my wish list but this kettle gives me such pleasure as I use it daily and it sits proudly on our stove. My feelings for the kettle have made me reflect on the small things in life that give pleasure.

We have a hummingbird feeder in our backyard. I had never seen a humming bird till we moved to our present home thirty year ago. It was our son-in-law Paul who introduced me to hummingbirds. He and our daughter Maura have a feeder right outside their porch. We were there one time when a hummingbird dined at their feeder. I was hooked. We got our own feeder and thus began my hummingbird education. Hummingbirds are the smallest of birds and they are native to North and South America. They live for from three to five years. The ruby throated hummingbird is found in the eastern half of the United States. They start arriving in the Washington area in the Spring. Paul and I have a fun competition going each year for the first hummingbird sighting of the season.

Now that I have some arthritis issues, I have given up back-hurting gardening. My focus instead is on pot planting on our patio. Aside from battling the deer who also seem to focus on our patio plants, this has proved to be very rewarding. This year I wanted to add variety to my typical patio plants. After a conversation with a gardening consultant from Greener Partners (a non profit run by our daughter Meg ) I started some zinnia seeds (not a favorite of the deer) which have now grown into some pretty spectacular plants. Before my conversation with the consultant I was not familiar with giant zinnias – not sure that “giant” is the correct terminology but that is what they seem to me. Their orange and deep red colors are so vibrant they give me much pleasure. As do the different herbs which she also suggested . Deer don’t like the herbs either. What fun to be making a recipe that calls for fresh parsley or thyme, or basil, or oregano and to walk out to the patio and just pick some. Could be my imagination but I think it makes the food taste better.

Two new additions to our backyard this year are a solar pump that sends up water spouts, and a squirrel proof bird feeder. The hummingbirds have given us so much pleasure that we wanted an environment that would entice a variety of birds into our yard. The bird feeder has fulfilled its mission. We have enjoyed cardinals, yellowbirds, bluebirds, and other birds that we have yet to identify. We were originally going to float the pump in a bird bath from our local garden center but after a month a waiting for them to replenish their bird bath stock , we purchased a large ceramic flower pot , filled it with water, put in the solar spray, and placed it in the bed of vinca which houses the squirrel proof bird feeder. So far the birds have ignored the chance to bathe in the water or experience the spray but Jerry and I love the spray. It is so responsive to the vagaries of the sun and is a classic example of solar power. When the sun is out the spray exhibits its spraying function. When the clouds come or nightfall starts to set in, the solar spray looses its power or just disappears. Guess this is basic solar spray functioning 101.

On days that we don’t golf ( arthritis has turned golf into a two day a week activity) we try to get in a good walk. Our neighborhood offers four possible routes that we favor, some more shaded than others. The outside temperature guides our route taking decision. One thing that makes these walks so pleasurable is the feeling of solidarity we have with fellow walkers. It used to be that most everybody was in their own little world. Now even with social distancing there is an exchange of warm greetings or hand waving with most everyone we meet. It would appear that the pandemic isolation has had a positive effect on our appreciation of one another.

As Ralph Waldo Emerson said ” life is a journey not a destination. ” It is an appreciation of the little things that adds interest and excitement to the journey. The big things like landing the perfect job, taking that long planned for trip, marriage, having children – these big events are made more meaningful by the little events surrounding them.

That perfect job didn’t just come out of the blue – it was probably the result of hard work both in school and in the job market where there were many instances of the “little things” that made this period of life more meaningful. Marriage and having children provide daily joyful occasions built on meaningful little events. We had our five children in five and a half years. It was challenging and very rewarding.. There were and continue to be so many instances of positive “little things”. I remember one time when son Jerry was 18 months old and baby Maura was thee months old. I was nursing Maura and Jerry was playing with blocks on the floor near bye. After I got comfy in the rocking chair with Maura and she was nursing contentedly I realized I had forgotten a diaper to put on my shoulder when it was burping time. I said to Jerry who had just learned to walk ” Oh Jerry , I need a diaper for burping baby sister”. I was just thinking out loud. The next thing I knew Jerry – who had just learned to walk – got himself up and went toddling down the hall to the baby’s room. He returned with a diaper. I was surprised and pleased and, pardon my bragging, very proud.

I am not exactly sure of the proper definition of the “little things ” in life. Each day is made up of little things. The big events of our lives don’t happen each day – little things do. Some times they are obvious – sometimes we have to look for them. According to Google, ” an appreciation of little things means  practicing gratitude for those everyday things that are easy to take for granted or miss altogether.” As we age and health issues at times seem to take over our days it is easy to pass over the ” little things”. We must not let that happen!!!


My Time AS A Hospital Chaplain

Recently my granddaughter Claire suggested I do a post on hospital chaplaincy. It got me to reflecting on that period of my life. I did my training at Holy Cross Hospital in Silver Spring, Maryland and then worked at Georgetown Hospital in DC. All this was in the 1980’s.

Looking back I can not remember any lightbulb moment that immediately drew me to chaplaincy. Our five children were getting older, I was starting to have a little more free time and I wanted to have a plan for that free time. I had loved my nursing experience – perhaps that was a hint of the direction I should be looking. Then I read about the chaplaincy training program at Holy Cross and felt confident that this was the avenue I should explore. I knew that I would feel at home in the hospital environment and I knew from my Cornell days the significant role that could be played by a caring hospital chaplain.

Monsignor James Wilder was the main chaplain at Cornell / New York Hospital in my student days. He and I became good friends. I had many opportunities to witness his kindness and his caring. When Jerry and I were married a year and a half after graduation we asked the Monsignor to be the celebrant at our wedding. My brother Bud who was studying for the priesthood was also part of the ceremony but since he was not yet ordained he could not be the official celebrant.

I started the training at Holy Cross in early Fall of 1980. ( Our son Jim was born at Holy Cross Hospital in 1966 – that made it even more special to be going there for chaplaincy training.) It was a new program at Holy Cross and the training class was limited in size . We were a mixture of lay men and women and religious Brothers and Sisters. I enjoyed the classes and the on floor training experience. And then we started a learning experience that some of my classmates had already experienced in their college days. I had not and it was tough. The specific name I can’t remember, but I can easily describe it. As I look back I believe there were eight of us in this class whose purpose was to make us aware that the words we use might mean one thing to us and something very different to our audience. This is a basic concept of communication that as we grow and develop becomes more apparent. It certainly was woven into the fabric of my nurse’s training. And now even more so into the pastoral care training where it was emphasized – that listening and talking were two of our most valuable tools. The basic structure of the class was to focus on individual members and their various sharings. You never knew when it was going to be your turn.

And then my turn came in the last class before Thanksgiving break 1980. I got there early, along with the facilitator and several of my classmates. I remember wondering who would be “picked on” that day. There was social chit chat while we waited for the rest to arrive. A classmate with whom I was particularly friendly asked me what my family was doing for Thanksgiving. I launched into how excited I was for the holiday, that it would be the first time we would be seeing our son since he started college, that we also would also be gathering with my brother and his family. And then the facilitator started class. After getting some administrative stuff out of the way she turned to me and said, ” I was really upset by your Thanksgiving conversation”. She then proceeded to say her college daughter was not coming home for the holiday, that she and her husband were so disappointed. She wanted to know if I thought everyone had happy holiday plans. The facilitator said that she knew my Thanksgiving remarks were in response to a question that I was asked, but that in working with patients we must always be aware of our words and of the possible frame of reference of the receiver of those words. In spite of the fact that I felt like I had been hit with a verbal sledge hammer it was a point well made.

A happy memory that stands out from this time was the intimate celebration when training was complete and Catholic Hospital Chaplaincy certification was obtained. My husband was in Japan on business but our daughter Maura, at that time a senior in high school, said that she wanted to come and represent the family. It meant the would be missing a day of school but she was such a good student that missing a day was not an issue. I was touched and honored that she wanted to be there.

At that time Georgetown Hospital was looking for lay chaplains and I applied and got one of those positions. I loved my work at Georgetown. It was thirty five plus years ago so I don’t remember my actual dates of employment but it was under two years. Why did I leave a job that I loved? It was because they started requiring the lay staff to rotate working nights and weekends. I gave it a try but I was a very sleepy failure. When I would go home after a night rotation, if the kids were not in school or if Jerry was at home, I wanted to be up with them rather than get my much needed sleep. Summertime was particularly bad. I wanted to be with my family. I sadly but realistically gave my letter of resignation.

What did I love about Georgetown? In nursing sometimes your patient load was so great you could not spend as much time as you liked with each patient. That was seldom the case with chaplaincy. A patient who stands out in my memory was a woman in her 80’s – the age that I am now. She was a retired reporter for the Washington Post. It had been a very successful career for her and when retirement came she was not prepared for it. She had lots of friends but most of those friends were themselves in questionable health. She had no family. In chaplaincy some visits were spiritually focused, some were to provide a caring, listening presence for a lonely patient. She fell into the later category. I was happy that we connected, that she felt she could share her concerns with me.

In both nursing and in chaplaincy and in life it is important to keep the needs of others in proper perspective. It is impossible to be a source of comfort and meaningful help to others if you let yourself be overcome by the tough times they are going through. Sometimes I found it hard to maintain that empathy balance. My husband’s law partner’s wife was a patient at Georgetown during my tenure. They had four young children and she was dying of pancreatic cancer. She and I were very good friends. I had a hard time being a meaningful source of comfort to her family.

I was working at Georgetown on January 28, 1986 when the space shuttle Challenger broke apart just shortly after take off. That morning was particularly busy for me. When I was moving between floors sometimes I took the stairs , sometimes the elevator. This was an elevator day. I pressed the buzzer and waited. When the elevator doors opened I heard the sound of crying. When I got on the elevator – everyone was crying – some softly, some loudly. The person next to me, realizing my confusion, whispered -” It is the space shuttle Challenger – it has crashed – there are no survivors”. I also cried.

It was in an earlier blog that I spoke of my friendship with Sister Jean . She was a fellow chaplain at Georgetown. Her softness, her kindness, her unassuming manner were her trademarks. When I left Georgetown we maintained our friendship. When she died I was devastated but comforted by the standing room only crowd at her funeral. The professional staff and housekeeping were all equally represented. Jean had touched many lives!!!

In my last days at Georgetown I reflected on how grateful I was for my time there but realistic that I just could not cope with the mandate to work evenings and nights. I would take away with me many learnings. I had seen first hand the courage of those facing death; the fears of those facing death; the resilience of those on losing a loved one. I prayed that I had been some source of comfort to those who had allowed me to share in their most vulnerable moments.

It is important in all stages of life to be honest about our individual capabilities. I had come to know so many wonderful people – both staff and patients – but it was time for me to move on.