Christmas for me, like for so many others, has always been a very special time of the year. As I grow older and have the time to look back on the past 59 Christmas seasons I've enjoyed, I have come to realize that all the presents in the world could never measure up to the time spent with family and friends. I yearn for the days when my mother and dad were still here; when gramma Gen and I would spend days baking cookies and pies and making rock candy and divinity. There was always music playing in the house, either on the stereo, or my sister and I playing the piano and singing. I remember the year that all my brothers were home for Christmas with their families. I think it was the one and only time we were all together in one place and I wish I had known how important that event was then.
Mother entrusted me with trimming the tree. It wasn't one of the things she enjoyed doing. It became one of my fave things to do until recent years. The sparkling lights and pretty ornaments... my folks ornaments were all pretty generic, but when I started my family, I started a growing collection of very meaningful ornaments that bring back such wonderful memories too many to describe. The ones I hold dearest were made by my children during their school years and those that my mother would give me as well.
By the time my first grandchild was born, we were fortunate enough to live next door to none other than Santa Claus himself. Every Christmas Eve, Santa would make his way, in full regalia, through whatever weather we were having, to bring a doll for Adrianna and toys for Brandon and Erik. It became a tradition that, unfortunately, ended when the grandchildren got a little too old to fall for it. Strangely enough, until this writing, they have always thought that Santa was their uncle Matt, who I'm sure would have done a very fine job of it were it not for the fact that our neighbor insisted he do the honors.
This Christmas Eve will be quiet in the Duffy household. Bill, Mark and I will enjoy a nice seafood dinner, then we'll begin to prep things for our family celebration tomorrow. My daughter Amanda and her family will join us in the afternoon for games and dinner and I'm sure heaps of laughter. We will all be missing my son, Matthew, who is currently working extreme hours in extreme weather up on Lutsen Mountain in Minnesota. Hopefully next year, he will be here with us once more.
Merry Christmas everyone with love ~
xxJBDxx
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Ramblings of an aging woman... Chapter 3
I've been in one of my thoughtful moods of late and factoring in that it's the
holiday season, it seems quite reasonable to me. I get quiet; I read; I listen to
music and I think about the people who have come and gone in my lifetime. I also
cry during these times, but it is a good cry.
My parents and grandparents are gone, along with one of my three brothers and both
of my sisters. Coming from a family that gave me a wealth of aunts and uncles,
it's mind-boggling to realize that only two of them are still here. My cousins,
nieces and nephews are a constant joy in my life and my children and grandchildren
are the center of everything that means anything to me.
Social media has afforded me the opportunity to reconnect with friends I haven't
seen in over 40 years and continue my relationships with those who have been a
part of my life all along. But as life would have it, I have lost a few of these
friends far too soon, including my closest friend who passed away nearly 14 months
ago.
Not a day passes that Carla isn't in my thoughts somehow, someway. Tomorrow will
mark what would have been her 59th birthday. She was two months and three days
younger than me, and she took every opportunity to remind me of that.
Over the years, I worried about Carla's health. She was wrongly diagnosed with MS
at one point, but then told me they really didn't think that's what she was
dealing with. During the final two years of Carla's life, I was aware her illness
was escalating and what exactly she was facing. She wrote me a long and detailed
email explaining it all to me and told me how it finally came about that she was
diagnosed with Sarcoidosis.
Carla waged a brave fight against this insidious disease. She had days that were
extremely painful. There were times when even her speech was affected, yet just a
few months before she passed away, on a day that she wasn't feeling her best, she
called to tell me about her son's engagement and her personal joy. She didn't
complain or whine for one moment of that conversation. In fact, after I received
her email detailing her illness, she never mentioned it to me again.
I want people to know about my best friend. I want people to understand that there
are heroes, like Carla, among us, even in angel form. She was human and made
mistakes, like all of us have, yet she lived her life courageously and never gave
up hope.
Carla inspired me to work toward a cure for this disease and I began raising
awareness about it through a group I belong to online. We have raised hundreds of
thousands of dollars for the Sarcoidosis Foundation.
http://www.stopsarcoidosis.org/
Though monetary donations are always welcomed by the Sarcoidosis Foundation, if
you cannot afford to do so, then I would ask that you take a moment and simply
click *LIKE* on the following Facebook page to bring further awareness to those
who may not have heard of this illness.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sarcoidosis-Reach-for-a-Cure/299962673213
In memory of Carla Jean Lozon.
holiday season, it seems quite reasonable to me. I get quiet; I read; I listen to
music and I think about the people who have come and gone in my lifetime. I also
cry during these times, but it is a good cry.
My parents and grandparents are gone, along with one of my three brothers and both
of my sisters. Coming from a family that gave me a wealth of aunts and uncles,
it's mind-boggling to realize that only two of them are still here. My cousins,
nieces and nephews are a constant joy in my life and my children and grandchildren
are the center of everything that means anything to me.
Social media has afforded me the opportunity to reconnect with friends I haven't
seen in over 40 years and continue my relationships with those who have been a
part of my life all along. But as life would have it, I have lost a few of these
friends far too soon, including my closest friend who passed away nearly 14 months
ago.
Not a day passes that Carla isn't in my thoughts somehow, someway. Tomorrow will
mark what would have been her 59th birthday. She was two months and three days
younger than me, and she took every opportunity to remind me of that.
Over the years, I worried about Carla's health. She was wrongly diagnosed with MS
at one point, but then told me they really didn't think that's what she was
dealing with. During the final two years of Carla's life, I was aware her illness
was escalating and what exactly she was facing. She wrote me a long and detailed
email explaining it all to me and told me how it finally came about that she was
diagnosed with Sarcoidosis.
Carla waged a brave fight against this insidious disease. She had days that were
extremely painful. There were times when even her speech was affected, yet just a
few months before she passed away, on a day that she wasn't feeling her best, she
called to tell me about her son's engagement and her personal joy. She didn't
complain or whine for one moment of that conversation. In fact, after I received
her email detailing her illness, she never mentioned it to me again.
I want people to know about my best friend. I want people to understand that there
are heroes, like Carla, among us, even in angel form. She was human and made
mistakes, like all of us have, yet she lived her life courageously and never gave
up hope.
Carla inspired me to work toward a cure for this disease and I began raising
awareness about it through a group I belong to online. We have raised hundreds of
thousands of dollars for the Sarcoidosis Foundation.
http://www.stopsarcoidosis.org/
Though monetary donations are always welcomed by the Sarcoidosis Foundation, if
you cannot afford to do so, then I would ask that you take a moment and simply
click *LIKE* on the following Facebook page to bring further awareness to those
who may not have heard of this illness.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sarcoidosis-Reach-for-a-Cure/299962673213
In memory of Carla Jean Lozon.
Friday, November 22, 2013
What if...?
We all have defining moments in our lives... milestones that occur that we can look back at and say, I remember it like it was yesterday and my life changed because of that event. For most any citizen of the USA who was alive in 1963, the assasination of President John F. Kennedy is one of those moments. Whether you were at work, or at home, or sitting in a classroom at school, the impact of what happened on November 22, 1963 in Dallas, TX was felt throughout our country.
I grew up in a household that was divided on their politics. My dad was a staunch Republican who went to bed on election night in 1960 certain that Richard Nixon was a shoe-in as the next President of the United States. My mother was just as staunchly a Democrat, who believed in JFK like there was no tomorrow without him.
In the fifty years that have followed that tragic, defining day, I have reflected on that event and have often wondered... what if? What if JFK had lived to rewrite the history of our wonderful country? What if I hadn't witnessed, as a nine year old kid, the reactions of certain people in the aftermath of the assasination, of not only my parents, but of my teachers? What if I had not seen and heard the emotion of one of the most iconic newsmen of my time as he choked up and shed tears on public television for a man who he truly loved and respected?
For days after the death of John Kennedy, we watched, grief-striken, as a young widow in a pink suit blemished by blood stains, stood next to her dead husband's righthand man as he was sworn in as the next President of the United States. We watched as this remarkable family of Kennedy's stood proud and unwavering in their greatness while laying a son, a brother, a husband and a father, to rest.
A few short years later, my family traveled to Dallas, TX to spend Christmas with my oldest brother and his family. It came as no great surprise that my mother would want to travel the route that JFK took the day he died... Past the Texas Book Depository where Oswald lay in waiting to kill our President... Past the grass knoll that still holds the mystery of what really happened that day... Past Parkland Hospital where people crowded around the emergency room entrance on November 22, 1963, sobbing in disbelief as a doctor announced that our beloved President was dead.
Fifty years later, I sit here writing this as tears cloud my eyes and think... what if?
I grew up in a household that was divided on their politics. My dad was a staunch Republican who went to bed on election night in 1960 certain that Richard Nixon was a shoe-in as the next President of the United States. My mother was just as staunchly a Democrat, who believed in JFK like there was no tomorrow without him.
In the fifty years that have followed that tragic, defining day, I have reflected on that event and have often wondered... what if? What if JFK had lived to rewrite the history of our wonderful country? What if I hadn't witnessed, as a nine year old kid, the reactions of certain people in the aftermath of the assasination, of not only my parents, but of my teachers? What if I had not seen and heard the emotion of one of the most iconic newsmen of my time as he choked up and shed tears on public television for a man who he truly loved and respected?
For days after the death of John Kennedy, we watched, grief-striken, as a young widow in a pink suit blemished by blood stains, stood next to her dead husband's righthand man as he was sworn in as the next President of the United States. We watched as this remarkable family of Kennedy's stood proud and unwavering in their greatness while laying a son, a brother, a husband and a father, to rest.
A few short years later, my family traveled to Dallas, TX to spend Christmas with my oldest brother and his family. It came as no great surprise that my mother would want to travel the route that JFK took the day he died... Past the Texas Book Depository where Oswald lay in waiting to kill our President... Past the grass knoll that still holds the mystery of what really happened that day... Past Parkland Hospital where people crowded around the emergency room entrance on November 22, 1963, sobbing in disbelief as a doctor announced that our beloved President was dead.
Fifty years later, I sit here writing this as tears cloud my eyes and think... what if?
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