"Lessons in Uncle Jake's Passing"

            Yesterday, my husband and I attended the funeral of his great uncle, a great man. Uncle Jake was 97 years old. Up until the last few years, he was vital. It was only most recently dementia got the best of him. While I only knew him in the way you typically know someone else s great uncle, I came away from the wake and funeral knowing him on a far greater scope than before.
           What I saw and heard about him spoke volumes.  His wake, at 8PM  on Friday night, was still streaming with people. People from the old neighborhood of Lackawanna were present. This was a man who was there when Lackawanna had a certain steel plant that was the heart of the city and thriving. The people of his community, his neighborhood in Orchard Park,where he and Aunt Mary raised their children, were present. The children his children grew up with, were there with their children. They spoke of the home that gladly welcomed them and was always full of good food and fun. He and his wife, Aunt Mary, were the hospitable sort. Laughing loudly telling his stories and openly weeping over their loss, Aunt Mary, his family, and his friends, were there in strong standing, celebrating his life. His brother and his sister, both at least in their eighties, but looking far younger, were present. In my husband's family, they call it coming from strong stock.

       It got me thinking a lot about those older members of our families that do live into their 90's and what  "strong stock" is about.   For Uncle Jake, I believe it had to do with so many things. He had a strong faith; a strong marriage (this would have been year 60 of marriage for he and Aunt Mary); a loving and close relationship with his children, his other family members, and his friends. His sense of humor was legendary. At his 90th birthday party, the family hired a belly dancer to dance at his party. Expressing his gratitude and delight, he said he would say thank you in both Polish and English for those who didn't understand Polish. With a big grin he said," Dziekuje, very much!"  Uncle Jake had an incredible work ethic.This was a man who toiled for many years at the Ford Stamping Plant. When he was  not toiling hard at the plant, it was at home in his garden, in his yard,  or on some sort of machine he had torn apart. When his one daughter ran a florist shop, he worked in her shop helping her. --And this was in his late 80's!!  But it wasn't all work and no play. There was always time for family, friends, a joke, and a story or two.
        While part of coming from strong stock may be lucky genetics, I do believe a great part of it is choice and perspective in life. It is doing those things that make you feel most alive, but having quiet dignity and faith where and when you most need it. It's about connecting to those around you in a meaningful way and both strengthening and being strengthened by your family and friends. This was Uncle Jake. I can only hope and strive to be more like him.

Room for Me with Three?!: My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002

Room for Me with Three?!: My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002: " There was a time when sleep was normal, or ..."

Room for Me with Three?!: My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002

Room for Me with Three?!: My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002: " There was a time when sleep was normal, or ..."

My Ode to Quality Sleep, Circa 2002

                 There was a time when sleep was normal, or at least normal for someone like me who tends to be a night owl. I could rely on six and a half to seven hours sleep per night.  I think that was circa 2003 or make that 2002, before I was pregnant with Allison. It was the era of Bush and children were just a twinkle in my eye.
              Two children later, with one on the way, sleep means it is a special night. Special in the sense that I hit the hay at a normal time without crashing out on the couch or some other soft place, like my children's bed or besides my husband at eight o'clock (he gets up for work when most people are still sleeping). That would be all fine if that was the end of the night. But  I wake with that sense of what still needs to be done. Usually, there are lunches to be made; other things to do; and a desperate urge to fulfill something resembling me time at the end of the day.  So I get up and then can not fall back asleep. My sleep resembles Lake Erie on a windy day.
       My girls say funny things to me like," Mama did you put makeup on under your eyes to make them look dark,?"

     I know I am not alone. When your with a group of mommies what else dominates the conversation, but sleep. There will be a few years, perhaps in between elementary school and junior high, when sleep is not such an issue. But then it will return to the forefront and sleepless nights will take on a whole new meaning, come adolescence.

     I had all good intentions of watching the "State of the Union" address and the hockey game, but the sandman had his way with me again.  Truly sleep has become perverted from its original meaning.
   
 
              

Foxes, pheasants, home improvement, gratitude, and a little Jimi Hendrix

                 These are the quiet days of winter and type of Sunday that I enjoy the most. --Those days when the extraordinary is found in the ordinary. We were graced with a beautiful fox that was hunting for its breakfast this morning. As we gathered ours, I can only imagine what it was eating for Sunday brunch- a nice field mouse or three, with its news and coffee. We have seen many foxes the last  few year, pups and all.  I do not recall such an abundant fox population when I was young. But perhaps, I wasn't aware or foxy enough.
             Foxes aren't the only animal that visited the Kelly house today. Looking out by our round garden late this afternoon, I saw the largest, most brilliantly patterned pheasant I've ever seen in my life. It seemed to have touched down for a long lay over, before finding one of our box elders to perch in.   
           Mike was off and able to proceed with our perpetual state of home improvement and renovation. While I always joke and say I liked old homes until we had one, I can honestly say all the dust and plastic that has covered our house through the years has been worth it. There is a reason it is called home improvement and not house improvement, as all the changes, additions, and dry wall going up and down, bring us closer to our ideal home, and at least on most days  more appreciative of each others work, in our old home.
       The animals visited; Mike " home improved"; the wildflowers played beautifully with one another; and folding laundry and making dinner today became a meditative exercise in awareness and gratitude for all we have.
Now that's a Sunday!!

   




                

Room for Me with Three?!: The Tourist in Gray or otherwise described as deep...

Room for Me with Three?!: The Tourist in Gray or otherwise described as deep...: " Tiptoe Sidestep Duck &nb..."

The Tourist in Gray or otherwise described as deeper than Western New Snow, fair warning

        Tiptoe
        Sidestep
        Duck
        But diving wholeheartedly into gray.

        She can't put into words what she is feeling,
        But knows its nuanced by many shades.
      
        For now floating,
        soaking, luxuriating in these waters
        Until it's time to get out