To Hug or Not to Hug - That is the Question

Many years ago, there was an incident in my life that changed the way I view and handle the simple act of hugging. I had just come out and Mary and I were visiting her sister and family for Thanksgiving. We were so thrilled to be celebrating the holiday with her family that we hugged a few times during the afternoon. 

Mary’s sister saw this act of hugging as being very intimate and that it should not have been witnessed by family members. At the time of this incident she didn’t inform us of her feelings.

Fast forward to four years later when Mary’s nephew was graduating from high school. Mary wanted to go to his graduation party. Mary’s sister informed her that the two of us were not invited because of the hugging incident of four years earlier. She intimated that we were too physical with each other which wasn’t appropriate behavior. 

Mary was heartbroken. She adored her nephew and had always participated in events in his life. Her sister would not relent, and Mary never had a chance to participate in the celebrations for his graduation from high school or college.

How sad. How narrow minded some people are. Unfortunately, I didn’t handle it well. Hence, I was banned from going anywhere near their home. It ended up Mary wouldn’t go to family events unless I could come along as well. 

Over the year’s Mary’s great nieces and nephews were born, most of whom she has never seen, and many family holidays occurred that Mary didn’t have the opportunity to attend. It breaks my heart that something as innocent in our mind (hugging) would cause a great divide that affected so many people in Mary’s family.

To this day whenever I start to hug someone I ask for permission. I am afraid that people will misunderstand my intentions of what one of my hugs mean. That is not the way that hugs were meant to be given out. They are meant to be spontaneous, friendly and a joyful act of showing someone a warm gesture.

Until next time…

My Latest Obsession!

I am in love again - even though it is a physical object and not a living one. My newest hangout is Dobra Tea on Main Street in Northampton. Such an awesome place!

The first time Mary and I went there was on New Year’s Eve. It was a spontaneous moment – which is rare for us – but it turned out to be such an amazing experience! The atmosphere is Asian with low seating areas plus table-height seating as well. Their menu is the size of a small dictionary! It goes through all the teas available and what they taste like and where they originate from. There is even a section of appetizers and of course my favorite – DESSERTS!

This past Saturday I went there. Mary had an engagement with a psychic and I wanted to do something special for myself. I was there for over an hour and so enjoyed it! When I walked in there were people everywhere. I found a quite space in the back which worked out well.

I had two staff members wait on me and they were both very helpful. On our first visit, Mary and I ordered tea that was very spicy and it masked the wonderful tastes of the appetizers we ordered. On Saturday, Dylan, gave me a “Loose Leaf Tealist” pamphlet with all the teas available and he went over the different varieties. The little list maker in me (didn't know that about me, did you?) marked down what teas I had so far. I even made a little plastic envelope to keep it safe for future reference. I also picked a new tea to try out on my next visit which brings me to today.

I have the opportunity to not go home at noon time to let the dogs out – our beloved Cait – is doing that for me. So I’m planning to try the “Boston Tea Party Blend” tea for lunch. Also, having their Mediterranean couscous for my main course. Yippie Skippy!!!

From age one to four, I lived on a military base in Okinawa located off the coast of Japan. Dobra Tea reminds me of that time period. For coffee, Woodstar Cafe is the place to visit while in Northampton. It is obvious to me that Dobra Tea is the place to go for quiet and a good pot of tea.

Off to lunch shortly and I can’t wait. Also, I’m bringing my latest knitting project to work on while I’m soaking in the peaceful atmosphere.

Until next time.

Jelly Bean on the Scene

In the past five years, I have had three different models of iPhones. I’ve named them Baby, Jeeves, and Celeste. Their cases were the impetus for naming them. Baby had a pink Otter case, Jeeves had a black Pelican case and Celeste had a dark blue one.

Though I was critical of Jeeves’ desire for a fur-lined Otter case and of his longing to live in Barbie’s Malibu beach house, he still had charisma. There was a certain charm about him – probably due to all the accessories he owned. He had two miniature replicas of the popular Danish “Egg” chair, cherry red and electric green. He also had a small platform that he could recline on while recharging. Plus a Bluetooth Jam Classic wireless speaker which he used as a small end table. When Celeste moved in, she had all of Jeeves’ furniture put into storage.

Celeste just lacked personality. I misplaced her on a regular basis and was always asking “Where is my cellphone?” I never said “Where is Celeste?” Whatever potential she might have had just never developed. Recently her case started falling apart so I went to the AT&T store in Northampton and purchased a new one.

I’ve been blessed that this location has always had great Sales Reps with lots of patience. Today’s lucky Rep was Devyn. He assisted me in finding the right case for my iPhone 6, but he left it up to me to pick a color. I finally narrowed it down to the pink and the lime green cases. I asked him which one he liked and he chose the lime green. (Thank you, Devyn!) And, that is how Jelly Bean came to be.

And, she has a feisty personality! Ten minutes after being in the house, Jelly Bean was demanding to know where I was storing Jeeves’ furniture. The pieces were quickly located and dusted off.  Plus, she just spent the last hour trolling the Internet looking for alternative housing if we don’t work out. It seems that Jelly Bean feels that having three dogs in the house is a bit too much for her sensibilities.  Jeeves’ never had a problem with the dogs. I’m starting to realize that he was probably a keeper.

I did an Internet search on Jeeves. I found that he is living on a small Greek Island in a house that from the pictures (love Google Earth) looks very similar to Barbie’s Malibu beach house. 

Mt. Tom B-17 Memorial Ceremony - July 11, 2015

I’ve been home this summer, recovering from my second-knee replacement in the past seven months. I’ve made it a habit in the morning to walk down to the mailbox to pick up the morning paper before breakfast. This past Friday, I noticed an article in the Daily Hampshire Gazette about a memorial service to be held the next day up on Mount Tom.

It read “On the evening of July 9, 1946, a B-17 flying out of Goose Bay, Labrador, and carrying 25 servicemen on their way home after serving in World War II, was preparing to land at Westover Air Force Base. But rain and darkness cloaked the peak of Mount Tom and, only minutes away from the airfield, the plane crashed into the south side of the mountain, killing all on board.”

Both my parents were involved in World War II. My mother and father both served in the Army Air Force.  She was a nurse and he was a gunner. And, they both came home from the war and went on with their lives. These twenty-five servicemen did not get that opportunity. Eighteen were in the Coast Guard, one from the Red Cross, one a doctor from the U.S. Public Health Service and the rest were Army Corps.

After reading the article, I decided I’d attend the memorial. I mean it was on a Saturday, the weather was going to be good, a shuttle was being offered to get up to the memorial site plus, being up on the mountain, I knew the view would be breathtaking. What I didn’t know when I made the decision to attend was that the memorial site, the stone, the service, the stories shared and the people who attended, would touch a part of me that I will always keep precious.

From the newspaper article written by Fran Ryan of the Daily Gazette, I learned that the crash site had gone unmarked until Norman Cote, a Holyoke resident, convinced Robert Cahillane, then director of Veterans Services in Northampton, to help create a memorial. A committee was formed that designed what the memorial stone and surrounding area looks like today. The memorial stone was made from the same stone as the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. In 1996, the stone was erected at the crash site.

I had the honor to meet the family of Alfred L. Warm. I met Al Stettner (named after his uncle) as he drove me and several other individuals in his four-wheel drive up to the memorial site. Al also spoke during the service and read the names of all who were killed. I met his sister, Ellen, a rabbi who sang beautifully at the service. And I met Scott, who gave me a ride down and back to my car. These three are members of the Stettner family who have participated at each memorial service for the past 19 years. Their mother, Dorothy, encouraged them to keep the memory of her brother and the others that died alive for generations to come and to set up a fund for the site’s perpetual upkeep.

Thanks to the article in the Daily Gazette, 85 people attended the memorial this year, many more than previous years. Over the years victims’ personal items and remnants of the crash still turn up. Al Stettner now wears the gold ring that belonged to his uncle. An I.D. bracelet with name and service number for Daniel Roe was returned to his family. By the memorial stone, was a small pile of metal pieces from the crash and we were told we could pick out a piece if we liked. I was told that the piece I picked for myself was from one of the plane’s engines. The saddest thing I heard that morning was if the plane had just been 30 feet higher, it would have missed the mountain peak.

On the memorial stone it reads:

On July 9, 1946 at 10:30 p.m. a B-17 “Flying Fortress” bringing twenty-five servicemen home crashed at this site. No one survived.

Archilles, David F.         S2C                      USCG                   MA

Austin, Wayne L.          1LT                       USAAC                CO

Bailey, Arthur                CIV                      ARC                      NE

Benfield, George R.       EM3C                  USCG                   TX

Carson, Howard E.        PFC                      USACC                NY

Coviello, Pasquale P.     LT                        USPHS                  NJ

Davenport, Gregory S.   SIC                      USCG                     RI

Fleming, George E.       ETM3C                USCG                     PA

Gillis, Ernest R.             RM3C                  USCG                    MA

Johnson, Wilfred U.      LT                        USCG                     NJ

Lebrecht, Henry A.        CAPT                  USAAC                  NY

Meriam, Frank G.          LT                        USCG                    MA

Miller, Arthur C.            SIC                      USCG                     RI

Orford, George E.          LTJG                   USCG                     NJ

Roe, Daniel R.               SGT                     USACC                  AZ

Sanchez, Eulogio           PFC                     USAAC                  MI

Scott, Russell S.             BM2C                 USCG                     NJ

Simons, Arnold J.          RM3C                 USCG                      RI

Tansey, Rex A.               PFC                    USAAC                  OR

Turrentine, Samuel A.   FL O                    USAAC                  SC

Valdrini, Herman J. Jr.  FL O                    USAAC                  AZ

Warm, Alfred, L.           RM3C                 USCG                     NY

Warshaw, Stanley P.     SIC                      USCG                     NY

Winnard, Lee                 RM2C                 USCG                     MI

Worth, Hugh J.              YNC                    USCG                    MA

Dedicated July 6, 1996

“THEY WERE ON THEIR WAY HOME, FOR THEM, WHO DID THEIR VERY BEST, AND NOW IN GOD’S HANDS…AT PEACE” (Norm Cote)

Being Uncomfortable

I wrote this back in June of 2010. I feel that I have not grown much since then. I don't think about "being white" I just am. Which makes me sad. You'd think that during the past four years here at Smith I would have learned to "be uncomfortable" in my own skin. I'm afraid that isn't true.

Recently (9/22/2014) a Smith Alum at a NYC forum sponsored by Smith shoved her foot down her throat by usng the "n" word. Which basically folks is NOT acceptable in any form of discussion whether written or spoken. It has caused much discussion here at Smith which is good.

Until next time...stay well and happy.

                                          *********************************************

Recently I attended a three-day training to become a facilitator to lead intergroup dialogues planned in the fall at Smith. The issues that will be discussed are on gender, race/ethnicity and class.

I participated in the race/ethnicity group dialogue and I listened to people describe how being "a person of color" is something they have to deal with everyday. From inappropriate comments such as “Can I touch your head?” or “Does your mother speak English?” to people just being down right nasty. OMG! What planet are these rude folks from?

From the same planet that I live on and that is where the problem lies. My being “white” has never been an issue for me. But it should be. My being white does not give me a free pass to be unaware of what life is like for people of color.

One of the participants mentioned that “being comfortable” in one’s white skin should not be an option. That to “be uncomfortable” would be a way to grow and stretch one’s self. And I agree.

So stay tuned to find out how it feels for me to stretch my skin.

Holding a Spot

More Gifts from Annie

Yesterday was Annie’s service. It rained most of yesterday and during the service. Mary said that her Mother believed that when it rains at a funeral that it is “tears from heaven.” It definitely felt that way. I came early to get a spot and it was a good thing that I did. The place was packed! It was standing room only. Another testament to what an amazing woman Annie was.

The service was lovely. There were cut flowers from Annie’s garden. Ozzie’s parents from Istanbul both spoke while Ozzie translated. Even though Ozzie’s mother was speaking in her native tongue you could hear the anguish in her voice. Annie’s amazing 10-year old daughter spoke ”If you see me walking around and wondering why I’m not crying, it’s because she will always be with me, and she’s not gone, her love is in everyone of you.” I definitely see a potential Smithie in Zeytin!

The service ended with a recording of Annie singing a song she entitled “Sweet Dreams for Ozzie” which can be found out on YouTube. Once she finished singing there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

I experienced Annie’s presence in several ways yesterday. It all started in the morning. I decided to go to the Dog Park with Mary and our three dogs. I haven’t been to the park in well over a year due to health issues. I almost bowed out right before leaving but something told me to go. While we were there Mary and I met a lovely woman and her dog. This happens a lot at the park complete strangers will stop and chat. We had a lovely conversation and I was sad to see her go because there was something there and I knew I would never run into that woman again.

Wrong. Who do I see sitting two rows in front of me? Yes, it was her! After the service I went up to her and she was surprised to see me. I asked her how she knew Annie. She said they had worked together at Smith. I said I work there too! We then introduced ourselves and had a lovely chat. I hope I made a new friend yesterday and if I did - I have Annie to thank.

During the service someone mentioned that Annie loved getting coffee from Woodstar. Woodstar is a lovely coffee and bakery shop here in downtown Northampton. For me it is the only coffee shop in town where I can thoroughly enjoy a cup of good coffee. After the service I called Mary and said, “Meet me at Woodstar.” I explained I wanted to celebrate Annie’s life by toasting her even if it was with a large single-shot decaf latte! We clanked our cups and looked up into the heavens and wished her well.

We were sitting there and I was telling Mary all about the service. She stopped me and pointed to a figure behind me. It was Ozzie! He too came in Annie’s memory. We both hugged him. He thanked me for coming to the service. And, I mentioned that I had written a story called “Good-bye Annie” in my blog. Annie definitely had her hand in giving me more gifts to remember her by yesterday.

Thank you, Annie.