Sunday Morning

Surgery is over and Peg's prognosis is good. They removed the cancer and some of her emphysema, taking an entire lobe. Stop smoking if you can. Its one of the hardest addictions to kick I've been told. I am lucky I never started because I know I would be a proverbial chimney. But hearing what I did from her surgeon and from what I have learned from my recent research, I can ask each of you to just try.

Families are odd little packages. Relatives can hurt you more than you might even imagine. Yet, it is so easy to forgive them because you know they ARE family. I have always tried to understand why someone does what they do. Its not always easy, obvious or even logical but, if you really love another its the only way to sleep at night. Life's too short. Move on.

Relationships are never equal. It's a give and take at every moment.

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The Phils pulled out yet another amazing win yesterday against the slime ball Mets. I have not idea how except for the consistant MVP play of Mr. J Roll Rollins. The fightin's struck out about a thousand times, let the slime balls run like rabbits all over the base path and still managed to win. I am surprised I am not bald. During the game I worked in my garden laying some pavers.....a good exercise to sooth my frenzied Phillies soul.

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Speaking of slime balls my "Skins play the ever slimy Eagles this Monday night here in the city of sisterly love. Get 'em Skins, they are yours for the taking.

We Remember

I join everyone who pauses to remember the victims, their families and the survivors of the brutal attack on our country six years ago today. Each one of us remembers where we were when we heard the shocking news of the first plane hitting the WTC. Like the Kennedy assassination it is a moment that sticks in your gut for a lifetime. The resulting fear, anger and shock that came from both events changed each and every one of us from that point forward. I pray especially today that the pain of the survivors and the families of those who died continues to ease with time in spite of all the roadblocks thrown in their way by the worst President (and his impudent administration) our country has ever known.

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I am still adjusting to the news of my sisters illness. My role dans ma famille has always been the comic, the character, the one that makes folks smile when they think they can't. So I have decided that going forward I will continue to post my sordid take on life as I would have pre horrible news. I hope that the positive energy emitted from chronicling every day life may help her in her fight. Think not harsh of me when I post in this different direction. She is never far from her heart.

Not Again

In the year 1943, Betty Smith wrote A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and my sister, Peg, was born. This sister, the middle child, ten years my senior, is much like my mother was -- deeply practical and in constant need of truth. Like the Tree of Heaven that is a center piece in the book, my sister however, has struggled with all kinds of odds to thrive. She has been maltreated by fate and also by people but plunged forward, indomitable, courageous.

I learned earlier this week that she has been diagnosed with lung cancer, once again just like my mother. The world started immediately spinning in a violent whirl leaving me with no place to jump off and grab hold onto a fix to the problem. As my stomach churns and my mind spins along with the earth I remind myself that the prognosis is good, better than good. I must place my trust in the insight of the surgeon to know this to be true.

The point is, what comfort can we provide those we love at a time like this? How many of us have felt this overwhelming inability to ease the fear of this treasured soul?

Words seem empty. My family's preference in times such as these has been silence and practicing the invisible. I can no longer remember why my parents were so close mouthed. And why my sisters chose to emulate this lonely way of dealing. I strive on a daily basis to remedy this familial mishap and believe that communication between loved ones testifies to the goodness of life and has for me become a repository of faith and hope. Without such, obstacles of this magnitude would simply be unbearable.

Eve du labor day

Listen.
When all else fails.
Words are the wings to the soul.
Listen to the air above the wings
as it glides inward.
Listen to what she doesn't say.
It's there somewhere.
Grasp what it is she might want to say.
It's a gift from your heart

Saturday in the park

I am a devoted Phillies fan. At this point in the season I am glued to my radio and/or TV and breathe with each pitch. My son is the same way. He lives in Arlington, VA so he is spared the agony of real time games. Lately however, the Phils have been providing us with anything but agony. This last weeks games (all won by the Phils) have been exciting, nerve wracking and thrilling. My sister claims she has no nails left. Sports really does provide us with so much. As I listen to a game I always think of my mom and dad, who obviously passed the love of baseball on to me; I think of being at the park, I think about the first time I took each of my kids to a game. Memories. Yes, sports gives us memories and emotions that are void of life's worries, stresses and sadness. I am unhappy when the Phils and the Redskins lose and elated when they win. The consequences and results of the game are a kind of external package of feelings. They are real but they don't stem from a personal situation that might be devastating. I often look around the park when I am lucky enough to attend a game and think about how many folks are there, enjoying themselves for the most part and are spending a few hours forgetting about the cares of life. The end result of the game won't have a permanent impact on their tomorrow.

I like the idea that sports is a shared passion. I go to the park with my family and friends and we have time together yelling at umps and refs; we question Uncle Charlie's seemingly stupid decisions; we banter back and forth about how much classier a team the 'Skins are than the Eagles. I can talk to my wonderful son all day long via email about the previous nights game. I relish the fact that he and I share the Phillies as much as we do. It even bonds co workers together for a moment. How many times do folks go in to the office and say to someone, "didya see that game last night? Ryan Howard's homer had to land in Center City".

Its a time away from worrying, a time a way from pain, a time away from less than happy, unchangeable situations. Baseball has been berry berry good to me.

Ok, so maybe my dad would have emailed me. I've been rethinking this and remembering the kind of dad he was. He just might have sent a post. There would be conditions, however, my mom would actually have to do the sending. He didn't like to do stuff like that. The man never wrote a check in his life. I can see them now in the clouds. Father saying to Mumz, "send an email, she needs to hear from me". Where's my Kleenex?

Its been a horrific week in the world of human beings. Scumbags like Michael Vick appear everywhere. How that man and his barrage of sub culture thugs qualify for nothing less than torture is beyond comprehension. Once again, beloved father said to me once, "anyone who can hit a dog is just a coward, plain and simple". What then, is someone who could do what Vick did?

Then we have Andy Reid's son getting arrested once again for some kind of chemical in his system. Andy Reid is the coach by the way, of this town's pro football team, the very blue collar Eagles (read I am a devoted Redskins fan). Evident again what having a lot of money can do to some. To strive for things and set goals for oneself, [some of them seemingly unattainable] is part of the fabric of life and kicks people out of bed in the morning. I suspect these rich people have nothing to strive for so they fall prey to the wrong ambitions and situations. I have two wonderful, incredible kids both struggling along the way to reach their hopes and dreams. As hard as it is for a mother to stand by sometimes and see them stumble I know they are paving their way to real success.

And then we have the Phillies.

I am still finding it difficult to get this going. I find it very egocentric believing that anyone would want others to read their "diary" of sorts. No one needs to see the tomatoes growing in my garden or how I decorated my living room. What I find really disturbing is that other bloggers post an entry that simply says, "nothing happening today, I feel tired". Now THAT is newsworthy.

That being said.....

I received an spam email yesterday at my office that read, "You have a e card from your father". This is one of the many reasons trojan filled emails are just wrong. My dad past away in 1997. Although he was a man of many talents I don't see him sitting at his laptop behind the pearly gates sending off emails. The man was brilliant for God sake, he'd be talking with Einstein and Kennedy and planning drinks with a few kings and queens and my mom, of course. On a different level I found this email made me sad.

I don't know who said this but, "without any notice, there they are....words swimming in ink like sharks preparing for a feast on a broken heart." Uh huh.