April's Passing Milestones

April is an interesting month. It is the month in which both of my parents died. My father died on April 13, 1961, when I was 11 years old. We all expect our parents to die at some point, but to have that happen at so young an age is not the norm. However, I vividly remember several other elementary school friends who lost parents in 1961 and 1962 so maybe it was the norm back then.


If I am thankful for one memory of my dad - it was the memory I have of him the night before he died. We had the best time that night. He left for work early in the morning at 4:30 a.m. six days a week (before we awoke for the day so we didn’t get to see him until he returned in the early evening). He and his brother owned a poultry business on Maine Avenue in Washington, DC. Occasionally we would take a “field trip” to visit him at the warehouse. It was so cold there (and I guess he was used to that temperature because he would sleep in one of the bedrooms with an air conditioner set to around 50 degrees). I remember lots of chickens and turkeys (on occasion) strutting around the warehouse. It never really occurred to me what happened to the chickens after we left – but I remember eating lots of chicken while I was growing up.


On Sundays, he would drop my sister and I off at church (back then I was a Methodist) and after church he would pick us up and take us to visit his mother, our dear grandmother. She lived in an apartment about 20 minutes from our house, with her spinster sister as my grandfather had died several years before. On the way to grandmother’s house, my dad would sing songs to us, and he didn’t have the gift of music that I was fortunate enough to have inherited. He sang off key on the entire ride to her house. It was always a fun time for me.


My grandmother always had a bowl of vanilla ice cream with Nabisco Brown Edged Wafers for us when we visited. She was a very gentile Virginia woman and I loved our weekly visits with her. I used to feed the squirrels outside of her apartment each week. They would come right up to me to get the peanuts my grandmother would buy for the squirrels.


Anyway, the evening before he died was so much fun. We laughed and joked around all evening. I remember something about one of the Marlboro Man commercials on TV that we laughed about. We had such a great night and when I woke up the next morning, my aunt was at the house. I thought that was strange and she said that my mom had taken my dad to the hospital in the middle of the night because he wasn’t feeling well.


A short time later, my mother came in the door and asked my sister and I to come with her to her bedroom. There she told us that our dad had died. She said he had a “small heart attack” at home and the ambulance came and took him to the hospital. It was at the hospital that he had a second massive heart attack which killed him. I remember thinking what a great night we had just 12 hours earlier and how everything had changed in the morning.


The next several days were busy with funeral preparations, relatives, friends and neighbors visiting the house and bringing food, and lots of phone calls. I also remember discussing the funeral arrangements with my mother and making the decision not to attend the funeral. Fifty years later, I have never regretted that decision. I have such wonderful memories of my dad from the evening before and that is how I will always remember him.


My grandmother died about eleven years later and I did go to the funeral – she was 97 years old and although she looked like she was sleeping, I still remember her in the casket. Her poor body gave out, but she was an amazing person with wonderful memories to share with everyone, even up to the end of her life. She was alive for the first Wright Brothers plane flight and the first walk on the moon  - what a time period she lived through.


Fast forward to April 26, 1986 – the day, twenty five years ago, my mother died. My mom had been sick for awhile and was in need of a heart transplant, however, with her medical complications and her age, that wasn’t an option. I spoke to her the night before she died. Our local neighborhood group was participating in our city parade the next morning. Each family in our group represented a different decade, beginning with the Gay 90s through the turbulent 60s. We had great costumes and even won a monetary award from the city. When I got home, there was a message on the answering machine – my cousin said to call him. I knew when I heard that message that my mom was dead and sure enough, when he answered the phone, he didn’t have to say anything – I said, “I know, she’s dead.” My sister had stopped by to see her and found her dead in her condo. Once again, going from a “natural high” from the parade to a “natural low” from the news of her death.


I was 36 when she died. My children were 12, 10 and 6. I indicated that I didn’t want an open casket at the funeral home. Instead we had lots of photos of my mother throughout the room. I remember how many comments we received that evening about all the photos – people thought it was a great idea and they were able to remember my mom as she was – with a smile on her face, throughout many decades with clothing to reflect those decades. We had a graveside service for her as she joined my dad in the cemetery (with my grandparents) in the same area. Since then my aunt and uncle were buried near them so it’s kind of like a family reunion to visit the cemetery.


When I look at the calendar, I marvel that their death dates were within two weeks of each other, in the same month, although 25 years apart. And now it’s been 25 years since my mom died and 50 years since my dad died. I’m so grateful that my children have had a totally different experience with their parents and hope we will be around for many more years to come. For some reason, those numbers really struck me this year.


I know that losing my dad at such a young age taught me a lot of things and made me grow up faster than if he had died when most parents die – in his seventies or eighties. I have a painting in my house that my mom had commissioned from a photo of my dad and he has a small grin on his face in the painting. I can totally remember him looking like that when I was a little child. I sometimes wonder what life would have been like if my dad hadn’t died, but then I remember we all are given situations we have to learn to live with and that, in the end, makes us who we are. I am just so grateful for the childhood memories of that wonderful night before he died. I think he would have been proud of the woman, wife and parent I became.

Helping Those Who Serve

A few years ago I was reading the newspaper and saw an article that caught my attention. It was an article about a woman who started a project called Homemade Aghan Project or HAP for short. With the help of some of her friends, they began knitting or crocheting 6" x 9" rectangles. Once 49 rectangles were completed, other volunteers would crochet the rectangles together and complete the afghan. The completed afghans were then shipped to military hospitals in this country and overseas and given to wounded soldiers.

The article indicated they needed donations to help with the cost of mailing and so I sent some money in. When I first saw the article, the group had completed over 2,000 aghans. There are over 1,500 volunteers who help out - some make the rectangles, some collect rectangles, some design afghans at the quarterly Put Together Events (PTE) that are held in Maryland, some put the rectangles together to complete a blanket, some wash the finished afghans and some help with deliveries or mailings.

Fast forward to 2010. The project organizer put out a call for additional help. Since I don't knit or crochet I was wondering what more I could do to help out with this project. Since there was only two collectors in Maryland I thought I could help out and volunteered to be a collector. Another person also volunteered and so there are now four people collecting rectangles and finished aghans. Several times a week envelopes and boxes arrive at the house. This is where the fun begins. Picture a dining room table filled with rectangles 12" deep, assorted by color. Imagine a dining room filled with bags of assorted rectangles - in zip lock bags bigger than I could ever imagine. Imagine going to a PTE with all those bags and putting them with other bags in a large room. Tables are put up and people begin designing afghans with the rectangles. At the last PTE, over 300 afghans were designed. Volunteers contact another HAP member who sends design kits to be put together. These completed afghans are then sent to the collectors who get them to the project organizer who washes the blankets, photographs them to put on the website, puts them in plastic bags and attaches a note of thanks to them. She then mails these handmade afghans to military hospitals throughout this country and overseas.

Since I first became aware of this group two years ago, they have now completed more than 5,200 afghans. Can you imagine this - more than 3,000 in two years! The project needs each and every person who has volunteered in order to make this work. There are volunteers from all 50 states, Canada, and Mexico.

I love to get the boxes and open them and see the beautiful handmade rectangles that arrive. There are many different crochet patterns that are sent. Sometimes I get 7 rectangles and sometimes I get 174 in a box. I love to get the completed afghans to see how these rectangles have been designed and the uniqueness of each and every afghan. Each rectangle with made with love and made for our soldiers who have sacrificed so much to make our country free.

The term "it takes a village" really speaks to what this project is all about. I'm so glad I'm a part of this project and hope that those who receive these afghans know how much their sacrifices are appreciated by all the volunteers in this project. Now if I could just teach myself how to crochet...

The Hills Aren't Alive with the Sound of Music, or are they?

It's Christmas time and the sounds of holiday music fill the air. Our choir is practicing Christmas hymns for our church celebration in a few weeks. There is a tradition in our stake at this time of year. It's called The Festival of Choirs - each of the wards in our stake perform 1-2 songs at the stake center on the first Sunday evening in December and immediately following the end of this performance, the First Presidency Christmas Devotional is shown on satellite TV at the stake center. We starting practicing for this several weeks ago.

I can carry a tune and have an adequate voice to hold my own in a choir setting. We recently had our stake conference and were able to share two hymns with the congregation. It was then that I started thinking about how important music is in my life. Several years ago I was fortunate enough to be a member of the Washington Family Singers (WFS). This group was formed from people from most of the wards in our stake who had a love of music. We had a very talented director, Sheena Joyce, and three amazing pianists - her husband Peter, their daughter Petra Collins, and Tim Willis. It was such a joy to sing with this group. We were able to perform at our temple visitor's center quarterly, and the concerts we performed during the Christmas season were almost always standing room only. We had such a personal investment to the choir, and the director and pianists. It was an extended family and something I looked forward to each week. Sheena always told us that is wasn't necessary to be musically perfect - the most important thing was that we sing with the spirit of the music and the meaning of the words we were sharing and hopefully that would touch the hearts of those who saw us perform. Sometimes during a performance, I would look at Sheena and could tell she felt the spirit so strongly that tears would well up in her eyes. All of us would have to turn our eyes away from her, or we would have teared up as well.

We were together as a choir for three years and then Peter and Sheena were called to the mission field in UT and departed from the choir. Their daughter Carole Santizo and Katie Curtis shared director duties, and Petra and Tim continued to play for us. Then Petra and her family moved to UT, followed shortly by Carole and her family. Katie tried her best to keep us together, and we had another wonderful pianist, Kurt Creel to help us out, but the decision was made to disband the choir. It has now been a couple of years since that happened. How I miss that choir and the wonderful experiences we had together. Sadly, Kurt died this past spring, far too young to have left this earthly world.

Flash forward to 2010 - Katie (who is our stake music director) selected a couple of pieces for us to perform at our stake conference. Katie completed her Masters music degree last year and is a talented soprano. But since she graduated, she had a different countenance about her and her directing is so fun to watch - she is so enthusiastic about leading our stake choir. As I previously mentioned, we have been preparing Christmas music for our Festival of Choirs - once again, Katie is our director and I love watching her as she leads us during practice. She has a love of music and shares her joy with those of us in the choir. So, the sound of music is ringing again with our stake choir and I am so grateful for this experience again.

One of the things that Sheena did for us was to record an Easter concert we did at the temple visitor's center, and gave every member of the choir a copy of the concert on CD. The hymns and anthems we sang for that concert were so moving and spiritual. One in particular, Scenes from Gethesemane, continues to haunt me everytime I hear it. The words are so moving and the music still gives me goosebumps, even after singing this for the better part of the past 12 years. Our stake center is about 30 minutes away from my house, and as I drive to rehearsal, I will sing along with the CD as a warm up. The CD isn't performance quality (and my youngest daughter Kim can be heard coughing throughout the CD during several of the songs). But it's a tangible reminder of the WFS and our love of singing.

Hopefully we will continue to perform songs as a stake choir on a more regular basis. And hopefully, Katie continues to serve as in her role as stake music director. I'm so glad music is back in my life again.

Politics, Politics, Politics

May I just say that I can't wait for the mid-term elections to be over. When November 2nd comes, I'll be celebrating. I am so sick and tired of all the campaign ads (negative as usual). Living in the DC area, you have to listen very carefully to what is being said in order to try to figure out the message. Details on the former governor of MD about what happened during the time he's been away from office (of course, the details don't tell you everything so one could assume all the negative items being thrown at him are true). The former governor doesn't respond to the accusations but has his own negative ads for the current governor (although not nearly as negative as his opponent). During the morning, between 7:00-8:00 a.m., you can see a constant barrage of ads on TV from both candidates. Then we see the ads from other areas of the country - just as bad and negative as you would suspect. Wouldn't it be nice to see a campaign that emphasizes the positive things a candidate has done and let the public decide for themselves?

And I will get political myself - as President Obama flies across the country to campaign for fellow Democrats who are in danger of losing their seats in the Congress, it seems that his message is that only Democrats are concerned about the nation in general. I'm quite sure that there are fellow Republicans and Independents who are concerned about the nation as well. These democratic candidates wouldn't need to be so concerned for their jobs if they had listened to their constituents and voted differently on certain key pieces of legislation. It seems to be that the country as a whole is sick and tired of what's happening and has decided to be more vocal about it. Although not an official political party - the Tea Party is making an impact across the land (and I don't believe this is a group of radical citizens who are voicing their opinions - it seems to me that they are average Americans who want their voices heard and are willing to congregate together to make those voices heard).

So, we only have 10 more days to listen to the negativism of the campaigns. I will take advantage of the opportunity to vote early (as we have that option in our state now). And I will look forward to November 3rd and the sounds of holiday music for the upcoming Christmas season (I'm sure the decorations are already in place at the malls and the music is already playing).

Change is Constant

For the past several weeks, at the end of Sacrament meeting, a letter has been read a letter from the Stake Presidency referencing a four ward Sacrament meeting to be held on September 26th at the Stake Center (note to those who are not members of the LDS church - each congregation is called a ward, and many wards make up a Stake, which is similar to a diocese in the Catholic church). Our Stake has seven units (wards and branches) in it. So the fact that we weren't meeting as an entire stake led to lots of speculation on what was to occur.

The announcement also indicated that there would be a special choir performance and asked that anyone who would like to sing with the choir meet at 8:00 a.m. for a quick rehearsal before the meeting at 9:00 a.m. The hymn was "I Know That My Redeemer Lives" - a favorite of mine (but a different version than the one in the hymn book) and a hymn our own choir had sung several weeks before in our ward Sacrament meeting.

On Sunday, I drove to the Stake Center, which is about 25 minutes from my home. The day before we held a community health fair at work and after a very intense 12 hour day, I could barely walk that evening so I was amazed I was able to get up and out of bed early on Sunday morning. When I arrived at the Stake Center, I was so excited to see the number of people who showed up for the rehearsal. The choir was so large. We had a 40 minute practice and were asked to sit in the choir loft until after we sang, and they we were to sit in the congregation.

Although four wards don't have as many people as a normal stake conference would, the building was filled with Saints from different wards, and there were chairs set up in the overflow section to accommodate the number of people who came.

After the opening prayer, we stood up to sing. There was a special spirit present at that moment, and once we began singing, you could feel that spirit so strongly - I had goosebumps while I was singing. It was such a spiritual experience and when the hymn was finished, the stake president turned around, with a big smile on his face, and gave us a "thumbs up" sign. For the rest of the meeting, I noticed the hymns we sang all had a purpose for this kind of meeting. Once again, the Spirit was guiding the person who selected those hymns.

The anticipated announcement was made - one of the wards was being dissolved, and the majority of those members would be going to our ward (historical note - 19 years ago, the dissolved ward was created from our ward). Our ward boundaries were changed slightly, and several of our members would be attending one of two other wards. When the counselor asked for a vote - everyhand went up. A friend and I looked at the stake president and he looked like he was going to cry but he also had a look of relief on his face as well. The vote was unanimous.

Because of these boundary changes, there were changes in the Bishoprics as well. Our bishop was released after five years, but keeping it in the family, his father-in-law was called as the bishop for our ward (he previously was the bishop in the ward that was dissolved). Our bishop was asked to speak as was his mother-in-law. His dear mother-in-law has attended two Sacrament meetings for the last five years - she was in our ward helping her daughter with their four children, and then she stayed for Sacrament in the ward her husband was bishop in. I commented to her after the meeting that she would now have some free time as she wouldn't have to spend 7 hours in our building each Sunday. Our outgoing bishop gave an emotional talk, yet it hardly seems possible it was five years since he was called as our bishop. Another note - when he was called, he didn't attend our ward - he was in the ward that was just dissolved. As he was called to be our bishop, very few of us knew him, but we came to love him for all he did for us. How fun is it that now we are combined as one ward and will still be able to see him and his family each week?

We got a little treat that day - we only had a two hour Sacrament meeting and then church meetings were over for the day. We had a chance to speak with the friends from the dissolved ward to say "Welcome Back" - although we lost some very strong members who were saddened by the thought they will be going to another ward. I know we will keep in touch with them as they are part of our ward family, wherever they may be.

So, a lot of changes occurred but in the end, the church is still the church, the mission of Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father continues and we will love getting to know our former ward members who now are home with us again. I'm sure there will be many leadership changes over the next few weeks and it will be interesting to see what joys that brings going forward. Don't you just love change?

Nine Years Later - An Event We Will Never Forget

September 11, 2001 - I remember how absolutely beautiful the sky was in the Washington, DC area - not a cloud in the sky, and the most vividly blue color I have ever seen. It was a beautiful September morning. At work, things were normal and our hospital administrators were gathered together in their weekly meeting. My husband called to tell me to turn on the TV. I raced into the board room at work and turned the TV on to see the horror unfolding right before our eyes. It was only a few minutes later, as we were watching in shocked awe, that the plane hit the second tower. My boss and I gasped and commented on how many people might lose their lives in that inferno - we knew there were upwards of 25,000 potential victims in those two buildings. Fortunately, the death toll was much lower.

Then we heard about the Pentagon. We went into disaster mode, calling a meeting of all senior and middle level staff. We were aware that we might get some victims from the Pentagon, but in the end, that was not to be. These victims were burn victims and were transported to hospitals equipped to handle those kinds of injuries. We gathered the managers together several times throughout the day to update them on what had been happening in the DC area.

For the next several weeks, things were oddly strange in the DC area. Several days after the attack, I decided to cross the bridge to VA to see for myself (a good friend who worked in DC walked from his office to the Pentagon to "bear witness" to the events of the day). There was an Army tank stationed at one of the exit ramps leading toward the Pentagon. That tank was there for months following the attack. For many weeks fighter jets would circle around the DC area several times a day. I could see them from my office window. That was a very strange sight to behold. I bought a radio for work that had TV audio capability so I could listen throughout the days that followed for immediate updates.

As the skies across the nation were empty because of the ban on airline flights, I recall one of our vice presidents who was in Las Vegas on 9/11. Knowing he had to get back, he and his wife rented a car to make the trek back home. The patient representative was also on the West Coast and ended up using trains as her mode of transportation back to Maryland.

We saw the best of human kind and the worst of human kind during the weeks following this tragedy. Our emergency rooms were full of patients who had serious psychological issues to deal with following the events of 9/11. We saw unbelievable compassion from the hospital family during that time. We also saw how selfish and rude people could be under intense stress. But I choose to remember our caring staff who, despite their own personal situations, went out of their way to provide great patient care. One of our vice presidents was in the Army Reserves and had to work a full day at the hospital and then report to Bethesda Naval Hospital for another 8 hours for several months.

I remember at the time thinking that this was an event that would we would never forgot, and we would always remember where we were when it happened, much like when President Kennedy was assasinated, or with the space shuttle Challenger exploded.

On this day of rememberance, I thank God for the service men and women who work to protect us twenty-four hours a day and thank them for their service to our country. I pray that, as the years go by, the families of those who lost loved ones will find more peace in their lives. We certainly live in more dangerous times with many new threats to keep us vigilant (and I grew up during the Cold War with bomb shelters in our neighborhood-that doesn't seem as scary to me now). Time seems more unpredictable in this day and age.

Who says 60 is old?

I'm really going to try to make an effort to blog more, so I'm sitting in the computer room waiting for the satellite to come on (not sure why it's off this morning) and thought I would post a little something about our recent vacation.

We just returned from a 7-day cruise to the Western Carribbean - Grand Cayman, Cozumel, Costa Maya and Roatan in Honduras. We didn't have to adjust to the tropical weather as we had experienced that same weather through much of the summer at home this year. We were in 4 ports in 4 days and planned excursions for most of those ports. We decided to try snuba, which seems to be a cross between snorkeling and scuba diving - you are using a breathing hose, but can go under water to a depth of about 25 feet. We had to fill out a massive waiver form, which asked all sorts of questions, one of them being "have you had any recent surgery". Being raised to tell the truth, I noted that I had knee surgery in April (4 months ago). After consultation with 3 of the representatives from the tour company, they decided I couldn't participate because of the surgery - according to them they were concerned about the possibility of air bubbles in my leg and the development of a possible blood clot. Even though I work in a hospital, I'm not a medical person so what do I know?

The company was going to issue a credit for the tours and we needed to decide on something else to do that day. We were talking to one of the cruise staff who suggested we try another tour - a visit to an island with some reference to twister. We decided we would try that and off we went.

We boarded a speed boat with about 20 other people. The crew explained we would be traveling about 25 minutes to an island to spend several hours basking in the sun, enjoying the warm and very clear water of the Carribean and just relaxing. As were headed to the island, music was blaring and fortunately the songs were ones I was familiar with and even liked! Part of the tour included a buffet lunch and drinks (as if we needed more food since we were crusing). The crew explained that when we were getting close to the island, the captain would execute a move where the boat came to a halt and spin around 360 degrees and we would end up getting soaked from the water. Note - we were harnessed up very securely with a contraption that went over our shoulders, and then buckled down to the seat (and we had life preservers to contend with as well). They assured us that no one on the boat would escape the water.

Well, they were right. The first time the twister movement was made, we all got soaked. We were like little children - laughing and shouting for joy. They made this twister movement about 6 times before going to the island. What a riot - by the time we were finished, we were dripping wet and coulding stop laughing. One of the crew even lost his hat in the ocean on the way to the island.

Did I mention we were definitely the oldest participants on the tour? There were two cruise staff on board (one of them who suggested we take the tour) and they were having a great time. Several other people had heard the drama of our first tour being cancelled and they kept asking if we were okay and having a good time, which, of course, we were. We spent several hours on the island and then headed back to the ship. We got to enjoy the twister movement several more times before arriving at the dock. It was such a great tour and we really enjoyed ourselves. The cruise staff asked us if we liked the the tour and we told them it was fantastic. The other participants asked us if we liked it and we said it was a lots of fun. So, the 60+ couple and all the 20 and 30 somethings on a tour together, laughing and having a wonderful time - who knew?

When we got back on board the ship, I read the description of the excursion and, of course, there was a warning - people with back problems shouldn't participate. Well, guess what? I have those back problems and didn't notice any issues with my back after the experience. Good thing I didn't read about it before we left or it might have stopped me from signing up.

Lessons learned - don't be afraid to try new things no matter how old you are. We had a blast and would do it again in a heart beat.

I'll upload some pictures with some more cruise stories in my next post.