Tag Archives: love

Chef’s Food Truck Is Her Prayer

Chef Joan Cheever has been feeding the homeless in San Antonio TX, once a week since 2005.

She has been ticketed for her illegal activities, which carries a $2,000 fine, and plans to fight this at her court appearance in June.

Chef Cheever is cited for feeding the homeless in San Antonio TX.

Chef Cheever is cited for feeding the homeless in San Antonio TX.

How is she going to fight it?  What is her argument?

Religious freedom.  This is her way of praying – to help the needy.  Yes, this is the first time I’ve read about using this argument for a citizen’s activities for a good purpose.

The officer who gave her the citation told her, “If you want to pray, go to church.”

If I Could Go Back In Time And Raise My Children Again

This is a beautiful and wise poem.  If only I was so wise when my children were young.

child

Memories Of My Past: Mr. Turner

 

My earliest memories of Mr. Turner go back to 1950.  I had just moved with my family from E. 42nd St. in Brooklyn to E. 51st St.  Our new house was a “row” house:  one story brick; with a small front porch outside and connected on both sides with other “row” houses.  It came with a garage out back, but in order for Dad to bring our car into the garage, he had to drive down a steep, common driveway that was accessible only between two of the houses.

Moving to E. 51st St. was a welcome change for the whole family.  We were not happy in the E. 42nd St. house (a long story, perhaps told at another time).

I was in the 7th grade and transferred from P. S. 135 to P. S. 203, which was a very good thing for me.  My walk was so much shorter and more pleasant than walking to P. S. 135.

Mr. Turner’s house was on the way to school.  He and his wife lived in a “wooden” house.  All our neighbors differentiated the houses on the block by calling them “row” houses or “wooden” houses.  “Wooden” houses, of course, were constructed of wooden frames as opposed to the brick-constructed “row” houses.  All the homes were not large and it was a very friendly block:  all the neighbors knew each other and were friendly and many became very good, close friends.

I believe the Turners were original owners; one of two of the original houses built many years before builders came along and built the brick houses.

Mr. Turner

Mr. and Mrs. Turner were definitely from a time that preceded my grandparents.  Mr. Turner was always in the garden, wearing his hat, tending to his plants, vegetables and flowers.  The Turners had a “double lot” which gave them the extra space where Mr. Turner happily puttered most of the day, weather permitting.

The Turners were quite elderly; at least he was, to me.  Mrs. Turner was starting to fail in health, and Mr. Turner was very solicitous where his wife was concerned.  It was evident that he cared for her deeply.  Even I, as a young girl, was impressed by the care and love he showered upon her.  When he spoke of her, it was with an obviously loving tone in his voice.

As a child, I was invited into their home on more than one occasion, where I would be treated to a cookie that Mrs. Turner baked.  She was a great baker:  Mr. Turner was very appreciative of his wife’s baking, and spoke of her in warm, loving terms whenever we spoke.

Years went by; I married, had my daughter, and moved back onto E. 51st St., halfway down the street from my parents’ house.

Mr. Turner was still going strong:  tending to his garden and taking care of his house.  It was with tears in his eyes that he told me of his sweet wife’s passing.

I also found that Mr. Turner had become the block’s “handyman” while I was living elsewhere.  He welcomed the extra income, and besides, as he put it, “It keeps me busy.”

We purchased the house we lived in from Dan’s parents (they lived in another state at the time), and it was after that that Mr. Turner approached us about the brick facade of the house.  He said it needed “pointing.”  What was that?  The mortar between the bricks needed to be filled in due to age, and the elements.  We agreed to have Mr. Turner do the work.  His rate was quite reasonable.

It was almost a ridiculous site to see this wiry, white-haired old man (he was in his 80s), in his farmer’s overalls, carrying his long ladder down the street, with pail in the other hand, ready for a day’s work.  And a day’s work it was – several days, actually.  He worked slowly, but steadily and with careful attention to his task.

It was a few years later, that I heard he had also passed, and joined his beloved wife in their afterlife together.  My memories of Mr. Turner – farmer, patriot (flag flew from his flagpole every day), good neighbor, talented “handyman,” friendly gentleman, and devoted husband – are still vivid.

 

December Represents Mixed Emotions

month

December has different meanings for different people.  Excitement, happiness, celebration, life expectations, new beginnings, and end of a life (lives) as we knew it.

holidays

What does the month of December represent to me?

Going back to the year 1958, December was great cause for celebration, life expectations, and a new beginning.  I married my first husband, Danny – my best friend, the father of my children.  My soul mate.  Yes, it is real.  There really is such a thing.

December means the birth of my son.  I was totally prepared for his arrival, and was joyous at his birth.

December means the month in which my now deceased granddaughter was born.

December means celebration of Hanukkah.  A time to be close to family and light the Menorah and remember the discovery of one day’s oil in the biblical temple which, miraculously, lasted eight days, to keep the temple’s light burning until more oil was found.

December means the loss of my soul mate.  It was expected, after many months’ illness, but when it happened, I had to cope with the great emptiness that his death left after 34 years of deep love.

December means the discovery of a new love, and a decision to devote myself to another.  It was a very good decision.  Bob was a special guy and very devoted to me, and I was happy with him.  We had a loving relationship and there was respect for one another.

December means the loss of my Bob after more than a year’s illness.  We were married for 18 1/2 years, and they were very good years.  They went very fast.

December is a time for remembering:  Taking stock of the past and looking forward to another year of whatever life brings.  It brings surprises – the unexpected; that’s for sure.

What does December mean to you?

Eddi Reader’s “My Love Is Like a Red, Red Rose”

Sweetness and softness and remembering.  This is a most lovely song.

Especially to my loves who are physically lost to me.  We will meet again, but in the meantime, know that you are all in my heart today and always.

AMAZING Nurse Agrees to Raise the Son of a Terminally ill Cancer Patient She is Caring for

One of the most moving, sad and at the same time, uplifting stories I’ve ever heard. This video tells it all.

Kindness Blog

Tricia Somers enjoys watching her 8-year-old son play with Legos. She knows moments like this could soon be gone, not because her son is growing up, but because she is dying.

AMAZING Nurse Agrees to Raise the Son of a Terminally ill Cancer Patient She is Caring for

Somers, 45, was diagnosed with liver cancer last year. In March, she found out it was terminal. The single mother’s biggest concern was her son and who would take care of him when she died.

“He is the only thing I got and I have to leave him,” she said. “It is really hard and I feel bad that I am doing that to him and he says, ‘Mommy it is not your fault.’ “

Somers’ options were limited. Her parents passed away from cancer years ago, her brother told her he did not see a child in his life, and her ex-husband has not been a constant in Wesley’s life.

She was devastated until a nurse, with the…

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Love Yourself First

We have to love ourselves before we can love others.

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[image from Pinterestdotcom]

December 13, 1979 – August 11, 2012

This post is dedicated to my granddaughter, Jessica, who died 2 years ago today.

I hope you are resting comfortably, and in peace, my dear.  Your life was less than peaceful and was tumultuous in many ways.

Your appearance into the world was so exciting and so exhilarating.  You were my first grandchild.  A beautiful baby.  And I was instantly in love with you.

looking grandma in the eyes

No words can express…

Held by your great-grandmother.  How loving is that?

Held by your great-grandmother. How loving is that?

 

Surrounded by your loving family.

Surrounded by your loving family.

In your loving mother's arms in the flower garden.

In your loving mother’s arms in the flower garden.

First taste of watermelon. I couldn't pull it away.  You held on so tightly.  Loved it.

First taste of watermelon. I couldn’t pull it away. You held on so tightly. Loved it.

A professional photo.  What a smile!

A professional photo. What a smile!

Celebrating the holiday and celebrating your presence in our family.

Celebrating the holiday and celebrating your presence in our family.

You had a sense of humor.  Loved your silly face.

You had a sense of humor. Loved your silly face.

Clowning at grandma's house with that silly hat.

Clowning at grandma’s house with that silly hat.

A bouquet for your first ballet performance.

A bouquet for your first ballet performance.

Visiting grandma and grandpa in Florida.

Visiting grandma and grandpa in Florida.

Years flew by and you and your family finally moved down to Florida, too, and we reconnected as if it were just yesterday since we were together.  The years in Florida were not your best, actually the worst, and there were many problems, but you always knew how to smile in spite of them.

Health problems took over your life, and we watched you with feelings of great helplessness, as you slowly were failing, right in front of our eyes.

Love you, my Jessica.

Love you, my Jessica.

 

Message to My Daughter

 

If you need me

Never angry.  Only filled with love for you, my honey.

If it were in my power, I’d make changes in your life that would wipe away all the troubles.  Like a magician waving his magic wand.  And POOF!  All would be sunny and bright again.

🙂

A Day For Remembering

Yesterday, I was with my daughter in Kendall FL.  She had a medical appointment, so it was a combo of medical and mother-daughter experience.  Love being with her – she’s a special person.  Everyone who has her acquaintance is aware of how special she is.  In many ways, she takes after her father.

We had an early lunch in the Bahama Breeze restaurant.  It was a lovely, relaxing luncheon.  The menu was varied and eclectic, and we settled on a salmon platter.  Karen, our waitress, made the time a delight, as well as the good food.

bahama breeze front

We wanted to sit on the patio, but roof work was being done, so we had to opt for indoors.

We wanted to sit on the patio, but roof work was being done, so we had to opt for indoors.

Just before leaving to get to the medical appointment, we heard a song being played on their audio system that was very familiar to me (Yellow Bird).  It brought back memories of many years ago – to be exact, a couple of weeks in the summer of 1963, spent in Flemington NJ, when my daughter (almost 3 at the time) and son were very young.

The company that my husband, Danny, worked for, owned a horse farm where standardbred horses were raised for the races.  A free vacation was offered the employees at the ranch.  The accommodations were very comfortable, and we were given a lovely 2-bedroom space (was just like a high-class motel).  Included were meals, a lovely pool, and the ability to make our own entertainment.  There was a stage and all the necessary accoutrements for putting on a show.

There were quaint and popular shops in town, where everyone could meander and buy some glassware and dishes at the Flemington Glass Factory, also referred to as “10-R-10,”

10 r 10flemington glassflemington collect

 

or buy fur coats and fur jackets at Flemington Furs (this was much before we became aware of the killing of wild animals indiscriminately for their fur and carried on for the greed of poachers due to demand for fur clothing).

flemington furs

Flemington was an historic town, and we enjoyed many hours there, meandering amongst the many shops and little museums.

flemington historic

My son was 6 months old, and one day, at mealtime, he refused his bottle, and only wanted to drink from a cup or glass.  I can picture in my mind:  he was sitting in the stroller next to our lunch table.  I had fed him before we sat down at the table, and saved his milk bottle so he could be occupied with that while the rest of us ate.  He was way ahead of his time!  Must have been something in the country environment – clean air, farm smells and horse odors evidently agreed with him!

One of the husbands (employee) who was also vacationing with his family, sang and played the guitar.  My Danny played the harmonica (he was very talented).  The two of them got together several times, rehearsing a popular tune of the time: “Yellow Bird.”

So, when I heard that song coming over the audio system in the Bahama Breeze restaurant, all those memories came flooding back.

And, it is fitting that I write this post today.  I think of my Danny every day, even though it’s been many years since he died, and I married again and lost my Bob a year and a half ago.  Love never leaves your heart.

It is fitting that I write this post today, because July 17th was Danny’s birthday.  Happy Birthday, love.  Rest in peace.

 

[images from bingdotcom]