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”.

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.

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!!!

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.

IN 1959 I graduated from Cornell ‘s Nursing School and right after taking the RN exam nine of us headed off to Europe for six weeks. I had already lined up a job as a public health nurse starting in September. When my friends first started talking about this trip I had no thoughts of going. If I did anything like that I wanted to pay for it myself. After all I would soon be a working woman. But when my parents heard what my friends were up to, they insisted I go.

My great Aunt Rose died when I was about 12. She left me money to get braces on my teeth. She told me she was going to do that. Unfortunately Aunt Rose did not specify in her will why she was leaving me the money and since I was a minor my parents were not only not allowed to use the money, but my mother had to go through a court procedure to be appointed my legal guardian. And once a year, till I was 18, she had to file papers with the Court detailing her care of the money. In the end my parents paid for me to have braces and when I reached eighteen and the Aunt Rose money came to me, I gave it to them. It was about two thousand dollars. As far as I was concerned the money was theirs. Unbeknownst to me, Mom and Dad put it in a bank account for me. When they learned of the planned European trip they insisted I use that money and join my friends. I insisted the money was theirs. What finally made me change my mind was their saying that Aunt Rose would be so happy to have me going on such an adventure. I knew that was true. The picture above is when my cousin Jim surprised me by coming to see me off.

Jim and his wife live in California. He called today. Growing up we spent so much time with Jim and his sister Fran that I often thought of them more as my brother and sister rather than as first cousins – probably pretty understandable since our identical twin sister mothers were so very close. Jim is two years older than me, the same age as my brother Pete. We were all very close. Jim has dealt with some tough health issues but has never lost his sense of humor. I have always enjoyed his take on life and since I was planning on writing this blog about feelings on being old I probed him for his thoughts. He laughed. He certainly did not think 80 was the new 40. We both agreed that aging was easier when you retain your mental capabilities. But under that scenario you are also very aware of the aging process chipping away at your health – sometimes in a minor way sometimes making a more major inroad.

About two weeks ago I went for a skin check by the dermatologist. Might have cancelled the appointment in this time of Covid 19 but there were two spots on my face that were red and irritated and sometimes given to bleeding. I had pointed the spots out to the dermatologist on a previous visit and had been told it was just aging skin. Since I have a rather robust history of basil cell and squamous cell cancer I pay close attention to skin aberrations.

I am proud of my Irish heritage but fair skin combined with a childhood where many hours were spent in sun-filled outdoor pursuits has made me fertile ground for skin cancer. The doctor decided it was time to biopsy both spots. I was told I would get a phone call if the biopsies came back positive – that I did not need to call but of course could if I wanted too. Since about thirty five years ago I had the experience of not getting a call back when a test result was positive I have always followed up in these circumstances. I was glad I did. Though the doctor’s office said they had tried to reach me there was no record of such a call on my I-phone. It turned out the secretary had the wrong number. The smaller spot was a basil cell , the larger was squamous cell. I took their first available appointment for Mohs surgery – a week from today – thanked them , said goodbye, hung up the phone and started crying. The tears were strictly vanity tears. I have been down this road before. It was not a matter of life and death. I am a breast cancer survivor – this was definitely not a matter of life and death.

My last Mohs surgery – about a year and a half ago – was down the center of my nose. l had handled that well. After a little rest at home following that surgery I had gone with my husband to an afternoon of bridge – with a large pressure dressing on my nose. This was a local bridge group of contemporaries that Jerry and I belonged to. I figured everyone could care less about how I looked – they were into their bridge. Why was I being such a baby about this new skin cancer? Pure unadulterated vanity. Maybe vanity gets worse as you get older. I had a vision of my face filled with ugly craters that gradually got worse with the passage of time. Fortunately at that moment our son Jim called. He is partially named after cousin Jim. Though I tried to act like all was fine – Jim quickly sensed that it was not. And I finally succumbed to his concern. He said all the right things. And between Jim’s words and my husband’s hugs – he had been working in the other room and was not initially aware of what was going on – I got my head on straight again. That night Jerry and I played on line scrabble with our son who is sheltering in place with his family at their beach home in New Jersey and with his daughter and her fiancee who are in California. In the chit chat before the game began I never even thought to mention my impending Mohs surgery.

What does it mean to be old? Is there a number that can be attached to that pivotal point when one passes from the first half of life to the second. I believe it is different for different people. And what makes for the difference? The first half is a time of family, school, focusing on a career, perhaps raising a family. It is a time to gain wisdom and set priorities for what is truly important, to work on becoming comfortable with our inner self . The second half of life flows much easier when we see a purpose to our lives; when we are able to share the wisdom and experiences that are part of aging; when to the best of our ability our focus is not on the physical aspects of aging but rather on the opportunities for growth and learning that abound in our world.

I believe the meaning in being old is to be found in setting proper priorities for what we want from life and what we feel we can give to life.

Recently I celebrated my 83d birthday. Birthdays are a good time for reflection and the dogwoods pictured above provide good material for reflection. They were both planted thirty years ago. I have not always loved dogwoods. As a child when I learned the legend of the dogwood – that it was the wood used to make the cross that Christ was crucified on, I didn’t want to have anything to do with dogwoods. And then I learned the rest of the legend. After the Crucifixion God punished the dogwood and shrunk it in size and twisted its branches. But God also gave the dogwood a beautiful flower whose four petals could be thought of as being in the shape of the Cross. With the passage of time I decided that in giving the dogwood such a beautiful flower God was ok with my being a dogwood fan.

The two dogwoods pictured have always had very different growing schedules. The one to the right as you come out our front door is very robust. In early spring as soon as the weather starts to warm this tree with its new leaves and buds is truly magnificent. The tree to the left is about two weeks behind in its growth schedule but when it finally reaches full bloom it is just as magnificent. Perhaps not quite as robust but it definitely has a very appealing delicate beauty. Makes me think about the various stages of human growth. So often our physical growth does not match our internal thinking, feeling, intellectual growth.

When I was in sixth grade I was five feet six inches tall – the height I stayed at till my seventies when I started to head back down again. There were nine boys and nine girls in my class. We were part of the last class of February students in the New York State school system. I started kindergarten in February, grade school, and high school and college – all in February. February students spent the Fall of the school year sharing a room with the incoming September students as the oldest in the class. And then in February when we moved up a grade we became the youngest in the class as we now shared a classroom with those a half year ahead who would be moving to a new grade in June. The September students were at least forty in number – so that made the average class size about sixty with just one classroom and one home room teacher per grade. It was a small parochial school with an amazing cast of teachers. The lower grades were on the first floor in four separate classrooms , the higher grades, fifth to eighth were on the second floor.

I remember standing at the bottom of the school stairs, looking up, longing for the day when I would belong on the second floor. I was shy and very conscious of my height. My best friend, Gracie, was several months older and about five inches shorter than me. When we were thirteen we decided that the upcoming halloween would be our last “trick or treat” outing. I only went this time because Gracie asked me to. Since I looked older I was very conscious of the hype that painted going “trick or treating” as a fun time for young children. The first house we went to was a cruel blow to my self confidence. The woman who opened the door “oohed” and “ahed” over Gracie’s costume and though she gave me some candy, she also asked if I didn’t think I was too old to be making the halloween rounds.

I don’t know what years are the toughest as we struggle to develop and learn our God given gifts – I believe they are different for different folks. The two dogwoods in front of our house are both equally beautiful and each has come to their beauty on their own tree life schedule. When I was young I thought school was the source of all knowledge – that when you graduated you just rounded out your school knowledge. Little did I realize the scope of the world knowledge that awaited me.

By senior year of high school my social development started to catch up with my academic side. To my parents delight I now cared about my appearance. I am not sure if I had ever focused on the fact that I had a lot of freckles. Once after a basketball game I went with some friends to a pizza parlor. There were about ten of us who went. We were seated at a two sided table where those on my side were facing a mirrored wall. This was not the nerdy group that I usually hung out with, but they were very friendly and I was happy to be there with them. As I looked in the mirrored wall there was one girl who for a second I didn’t recognize, and then I realized that freckled face was my own. How many of of us go through life without ever really taking a good look at ourselves. This was my lightbulb moment.

High school graduation was on a Sunday night and then two days later I started college. I was in a rush to move on to the next phase of my life. My plan was to be a teacher and eventually to go to law school. The teacher part was because I liked school and the law plan as I now look back was probably because that was what my parents did. I commuted to college in New York City. One morning when I was riding the subway and hanging on to one of the ceiling straps since it was rush hour and I had been unable to get a seat, to pass the time I started reading the many ads that lined the walls of the subway cars. I kept going back to one posted by the American Red Cross that advertised a home nursing course. I found the content of the course very appealing: first aide; how to cope with a medical emergency; signs and symptoms of various illnesses. Later that day when again on the subway, heading home, I looked for the Red Cross ad. It was truly another lightbulb moment for me. It was early March, I was in the process of making a novena that I choose the right direction in my college courses. Within about a week, with my parents blessing I made an appointment with the college guidance counselor to learn about various nursing programs. I was very excited. I felt like my prayers were being answered, that I was being directed into a nursing career. When I learned of the nursing program that Cornell University – New York Hospital offered, I never applied anywhere else.

Lightbulb moments are special times of clarity – I have always looked on them as answers to prayer. There are unexpected pleasures in aging. In this second half of life I find meaning in the words of Harvard professor, Dan Gilbert: “Human beings are works in progress that mistakenly think they are finished”.

Easter has always been a special time in our family – a time of renewal, personal growth and perhaps relief that the personal sacrifices of Lent are finally over. When my brothers and I were small it was a big deal what you gave up for Lent. I remember one year giving up candy. And then a friend of my parents came for a visit. She brought three big Hershey bars for my brothers and me. We put them in the freezer section of our refrigerator to preserve them till Lent was over. In the 1940’s the freezer section was very small – in our case we had two shelves that held ice cube trays. We squeezed the Hershey bars in on top of the trays. I remember so clearly running to the frig at noon on Easter Saturday when the fast was officially over. The freezer wasn’t working properly and water had condensed on the chocolate. They were ruined – they tasted terrible. With the passage of time I finally understood that Lent was more meaningful if the focus was on positivity – doing spiritual reading, attending holy week services, being present in a meaningful way to those in need with some self denial thrown in to make the Lenten experience complete.

The church Jerry and I attend, St John Neumann, has been amazing in its efforts to serve the spiritual needs of its parishioners. When my mother reached the age where physically going to church was difficult, and my priestly brother was not available to say a home mass she got spiritual solace from televised masses. I just couldn’t relate but I was happy for her. Now I understand. Easter morning Jerry and I watched the streamed mass from our church. It could not have been more powerful – more meaningful.

Covid 19 is an interruption of family traditions. In our almost 60 years of marriage Jerry and I have always celebrated this holy time with family. And thanks to the marvels of Zoom and under the guidance of tech wizard granddaughter Annie, we were still all able to be together. Joined on the screen were family members from California to Quebec, to New Jersey, to Pennsylvania, the District of Columbia, and Virginia. There was time for sharing , albeit briefly so that all who wanted to would have time to talk, and that was followed by a family sing-a-long. Granted being together is the absolute best but this was a darn good substitute.

Covid 19 offers many opportunities for positivity. The pandemic is here. We can’t ignore it so we might as well make the best of it. To quote singer/ songwriter Townes Van Zandt ” To live is to fly both low and high, so shake the dust off of your wings and the tears out of your eyes”. As Jerry and I take walks through our community – maintaining our social distancing – I continue to be touched by the hellos and waves from fellow walkers – many of whom we don’t know. There just seems to be an air of “we are all in this together”. We are the oldest residents by far on our twelve home cul- de- sac – this was not the case when we moved in thirty years ago. We have been touched by the thoughtfulness of our neighbors’ offers of grocery shopping help. Our niece Mary and her family live just a few miles from us in a neighboring community. Holy Saturday she arrived at our front door with a loaf of freshly baked bread, a beautiful Easter lily and some family pictures. We stood outside – at a safe distance – and caught up on family news – it was lovely!

Jerry and I would never choose to be quarantined but it is OK. We have a loose schedule to our days and I think some form of schedule is important. Exercise is a must, Not only the daily floor exercises that are essential to keeping our various body parts functioning, but also some form of walking either on the golf course or exploring new areas in our community. Online bridge has been challenging and fun. We belong to the Lake Ann bridge group and this morning we participated in their kick off electronic gathering. We have played online bridge with friends in Florida and with my brother at his home in the Shenandoah.

Electronic devices are so helpful both in helping us to stay in touch and in providing meaningful activities. We love the online weekly Scrabble games with son Jerry and grandson Jeremy and his friend Amy. I read somewhere that we should approach electronic gatherings – either with one person or with many as though we are actually getting together in person and dress and prepare accordingly. I try to follow that idea. And perhaps it was a stretch but before our Easter gathering I even sprayed on some of my favorite perfume that I know the older granddaughters like. I was already so excited about our impending electronic gathering – this cranked up the excitement even more.

In this pandemic time Jerry and I sometimes reflect on our own parents in the 1918 pandemic. My parents were older teenagers. Jerry’s parents were in their early twenties. How were their daily lives impacted? We wish we could talk with them about that time in their lives. Was it a lonely time for them? A scary time? What kind of restrictions were they under? Jerry and I know that we are truly blessed in the love and caring of our Family!!!

MARCH 22 – We have now been back from Florida for five days. We have been practicing self isolation after our trip on what was a crowded and perhaps very germ-filled auto train. A precious daughter-in-law asked if we were feeling lonely in our isolation. And so far the answer is not really. Today our grandson Graham texted and set up a FaceTime call to check in on us. It was so much fun. We are blessed with 19 wonderful grandchildren and most times our interactions are with more than one grandchild at a time – which we love – but there is a special charm to just one on one time!

March 23 – FaceTime with granddaughter Lilly. She is an editorial producer with a New York based magazine. And is now working remotely from her parents home. Am awed when she tells me that ten thousand people have signed up for the webinar she is facilitating on Tuesday.

March 24 – FaceTime with Granddaughter Annie, December 2019 graduate of the University of Virginia. Starting in June Annie is supposed to begin a two year stint with Teach for America. I was not surprised when she was accepted into this wonderful volunteer program. Annie is a gifted , caring woman.

MARCH 26 – last night our son Jerry set up a Zoom conference call where for about an hour husband Jerry and I played on-line Scrabble with son Jerry and the team of grandson Jeremy and his friend Amy ( they won). We each were on our own computer screens. There were some technical glitches but we played through them and the glitches just resolved. We will play again next Wednesday.

For the first time ever in our almost 60 years of married life we were forced by our self isolation to order groceries on line. I put a lot of time into making the list and was taken aback when I tried yesterday to place my order at about 2 in the afternoon and was told told ” no more orders for today.” This morning I placed the order at 8 AM and it went through. With 27 items on my list I wondered how many I would actually get. When the shopper could not get a list item she texted me for approval of her replacements. Though I happen to actually like grocery shopping I was impressed by how smoothly the shopping on line went.

And then at 3:30 we had a FaceTime with granddaughter Claire and with her boyfriend Greg. Both of them have good jobs which allow for working remotely. They cared for my two favorite houseplants while we were in Florida. Both these plants are more than 30 years old so they are treasures and putting them in the hands of Claire and Greg they got the best of care. Face timing gave us the opportunity to meet Claire’s pussycats, Angie and Gloria who were rather shy with the computer camera but I can relate – sometimes I find being photographed a bit difficult.

MARCH 27 – today Jerry and I golfed. Our club has put together meaningful protocols to keep members from being infected with the Coronavirus. And it was a beautiful day so we were grateful to be walking the course.

Before we headed out to golf our daughter Meg and her son Liam FaceTimed us. Liam proudly showed us some homework he had worked on. The school district he and his sibs are part of has a very robust program of home schooling in this scary virus time. Liam is very comfortable with FaceTime whereas I am continuing to learn its capabilities. I just love the way it makes you feel physically close to those you are talking with.

MARCH 28 – Had a Zoom video hour set up by Annie with our family who live locally. Was so good to see everyone. There were 16 of us on the screen. It was very reassuring to see everyone and to hear about their virus coping activities – virtual birthday parties, virtual happy hours, etc. Jerry and I asked for movie recommendations that we will check out. I shared my anger at the Washington Post comic strip WUMO – that showed a doctor speaking to family members about their father who had just died. This was supposed to be funny when the Doctor said ,” Technically your Dad died of natural causes.What’s more natural than senior citizens unable to handle technology?” This is not funny – it is insulting. I have written a letter of protest to the Post!

MARCH 29 – No church in this time of pandemic but grateful to be part of a parish skilled in use of social media for spiritual purposes. Some of their messages are long, some are short – all are very meaningful. Midday we had a very fun Face Time session with son Joe and his wife Lane as they headed to an afternoon gathering of some of their family. It was great to see them looking so well. Joe is a doctor – an internist in private practice. Lane is his office manager. They, like our our daughter, Maura, who is a nurse practitioner, are on the front lines in this time of health crisis. We need the reassurance that comes from checking in with these three.

In the afternoon we had a Zoom call with granddaughter Emily and her fiancee David. They are recently engaged and we couldn’t be happier – for them and for us to be acquiring such an amazing and thoughtful Grandson -in-law. He and Emily are well matched both in their kindness and their desire to help others.

March 31 – Have been trying for the last two days to place a grocery order with either Whole Foods or Wegmann’ s. This morning I got up at 6 to place the order. By 6:10 I was too late for Whole Foods – no spots available. Wegmann’s had time available on April 5 between 5 and 7 PM. I grabbed it and placed my order. Only problem was we were out of some of our daily food staples. That was solved when Lilly, taking a break from work , offered to do our shopping , and her brother Gus offered to bring it out to us.

April 1 – This is the day Jerry and I should have just been getting home from Florida. We appreciate the loving concern of our all our children who because of Covid 19 persisted in urging us to return early. It was our son Jim who realized that in Florida we were not getting a realistic picture of the pandemic disaster that was descending on our country. And he was right, we weren’t. It is a role reversal when parents have to acknowledge that their children know what is best. We thank them for their persistence.