Speak to Me Sunday: Family Sundays

I like how some traditions begin without fanfare, like a seed slowly and gently emerging from the earthy soil, soundless as it reaches toward the heavens until, one day, you notice the seed has become something substantial. 

A pumpkin vine, an oak tree, a daisy.  

Several years ago, we changed our family weekend routine. Instead of attending Mass on Sunday morning (something we have done since the beginning of our marriage), we began attending Saturday evening. We do not remember what prompted this change, but we tried it once, then again a few weeks later, and soon that the little seed of change grew into something that has become a tradition of Family Sundays.  

On Sunday we sleep a little later, but not too late because we plan an outdoor family activity--usually a hike or bike ride. Today, for example, we biked 18 miles from our house, all the way downtown to the 13th street bridge, and back home again. We really push our bodies during these morning excursions, and when we return we are hot and sweaty and we walk into the house on wobbly legs. We are totally depleted and we feel great. 

Lunchtime is our big meal. Pre-pandemic the lunch was either at our house or my parents' house, but due to Covid-19 our lunches have turned into backyard visits. We miss our big lunches with the Nonni, but we know they will happen again; in the meantime, the point is to spend time together, and sitting in my parents' backyard that is exactly what we do. Nonno tells his stories, Nonna gives Timothy some candy, and we discuss movies and politics and hold out hope for the end of this darn pandemic. 

And then comes my favorite part about our Family Sundays ... Sunday afternoon.

A time to do something or nothing, but the key is to do that something or nothing at home. We do not go anywhere. We watch a movie, or take a nap, or curl up with a book. We work on a hobby--scrapbooking or model cars or a Star Wars puzzle. Sometimes the boys have an epic video game battle in the rec room while Joe and I watch something like The Godfather on televisioin. During the summer, the air conditioner provides a near constant hum as we take refuge from the hottest part of the day; during the winter, everyone finds something to do in the family room where there is a fire going. 

Finally, Sunday evenings mean phone calls from the older boys. One from Little Rock, one from Atlanta, and we hear about jobs, and girlfriends, and highlights of their week. Later, Joe and I go to bed knowing that our boys are safe. All is right with the world. 

And such are our Family Sundays. The tradition may have snuck up on us, but our Family Sundays are like wildflowers blooming on a city sidewalk ... we appreciate their presence and are grateful for the gift they offer. 

Friday Favorites (vol. 8): a big race, a little humor, and a potential crime scene

1- World's Toughest Race: Eco-Challenge Fiji

Wow, this show on Amazon Prime had us hooked. Sixty-six teams from around the world come to Fiji for an epic adventure challenge hosted by Bear Grylls that pushes contestants to their physical and mental limits. Kayaking, mountain biking, mountain climbing, swimming, paddle boarding ... it's non-stop for 11 days. Other than a required 90-minute rest at checkpoints along the way, teams choose when (or if) to keep racing or when to stop and sleep. 

It's like Survivor, but without the political shenanigans. It's like The Amazing Race, but more intense. It's like both of them put together, but more life-threatening (concussions, infected wounds, hypothermia, and several medical evacuations). 

And the show is inspiring. Last Sunday Joe and I went on a 20-mile bike ride (two miles up from the week before), and because of the show I thought of pain, discomfort, and fatigue in a different light. I embraced the challenge of those 20 miles, and you know what? Those 20 miles felt like nothing. 

2- Covid Humor

There are so many Covid memes out there that, because they contain an element of truth, can be really really funny. This is one of my favorites ... take a look at that comment!

3- The Guest Bedroom

We are re-doing the older boys' room and turning it into more of a guest room. Because we already have two queen beds and 1 king bed in other bedrooms, we decided to keep twin beds in this room to give us more sleeping options when we have guests. BUT, I wanted to change out the twin beds we had for an XL length. I ordered these beds from (of all places) Home Depot! The photo below is from Dallas Lifestyle blogger Cassie at hi sugarplum! She gave me the idea and it was spot on. The beds are truly lovely.  

4- Still Alive

Yesterday I felt like I was participating in a crime: two strangers, meeting in an empty parking lot, car trunks open, a package transfer, and an exchange of cash.

No worries ... nothing illegal happened! I was at the Georgia Welcome Center to meet a woman from North Carolina who drove all the way to Augusta to purchase a painting I had listed on Augusta Fine Furnishings. I brought Joe with me just in case I was meeting a serial killer! But all went well. 

5- Photo of the Week

Somewhere in Italy, September 2019

Speak to Me Sunday: Walking Behind

 We helped our son move to Atlanta this past May.

When we last saw Jonathan, he was sitting in his brand-new apartment hooking up a 55-inch television (a graduation gift). He was surrounded by boxes that still needed unpacking, he was one week away from starting his new job as a tax associate, and he was excited to be on his own. When we hugged him goodbye, we told him we would be back soon.

We did not see him again for three months.

At first, we wanted to give him some space. A new apartment, a new job, an exciting new life living in Atlanta … he was discovering his independence. Then the pandemic hit, and we had to shelter-in-place. No one was going anywhere. It was during this time that a tree fell on Jonathan’s car as he drove home one evening during a thunderstorm; he was not injured, but his brand new Toyota Rav4 was totaled and due to Covid-19 he had to handle all the insurance paperwork, arrange for a rental car, and purchase a new car by himself.

And just when things were settling down, in early July Jonathan tested positive for Covid-19, coming down with symptoms a few days after his office closed due to confirmed cases.  Fortunately, he recovered quickly (his worst symptoms were loss of taste and a little cough). He was never very sick, and he continued to work remotely from home. But during the self-isolation, waiting for test results, and recovery period we were stuck here while he was there.

We got through it with prayers, phone calls, texts, and several care packages (which included everything from a pulse oximeter to Lego sets he could build during his down time).

A lot has happened these past three months, so you can imagine how good it was to finally see him.

I hugged him and saw that he was healthy and whole. He still flashed his dimples when he smiled. Unabashedly, I poked around his apartment. It is always fun, as a mother, to see how a son sets up housekeeping. The little boy I raised keeps a neat apartment. The kitchen and bathroom were clean, his bed was made (but then, growing up he always made his bed), and he had hung some posters on the wall. I opened his refrigerator and saw what brand orange juice he drinks, a detail I noticed only because the refrigerator was so bare. Go shopping, I told him. I opened his freezer and put inside homemade cookies, a loaf of banana bread, and a lasagna.

We talked, explored his apartment complex, went out for lunch, and hiked a trail at a nearby park.

That was when I took this photo.

As the trail meandered through the woods, I watched my two sons walking ahead of us and realized that our “baby” is now taller than his two older brothers. Timothy and Jonathan were chatting and smiling and talking a language that Joe and I do not comprehend—a language of video game battles and board game strategies and YouTube personalities. And although Nicholas was far away in Arkansas, I felt his presence and knew that if he lived closer, there would be three of them walking together instead of two, with us trailing behind.

So Joe and I listened to them talk and watched them smile and I felt things shift, just a little bit. We were parents of two grown sons, and one almost grown son, and every day the three of them walk taller and stronger and faster into this thing we call LIFE.

Our role is changing. Joe and I used to walk in front. Like a lighthouse on a rocky shore we offered foundation, faith, and guidance. We illuminated the darkness so they could see possibilities and pathways. Then came the day we gave each of our sons a flashlight and stepped back, allowing them to explore on their own. We no longer walked in front, but alongside them, even as they explored further and further.

And now they have pulled ahead, and we walk behind, which is a little sad but also all kinds of wonderful. From our vantage point we see them forge pathways and explore hidden lands and see and do things we have never done. Now it is their turn to shine. And so we watch. 

It is hard. It is scary. It is sad. 

It is beautiful. It is inspiring. It is exciting.

It is as it should be.

And it is all good. 

Standing Tall Together

There is a line from the hit musical, Hamilton, in which the opinionated Alexander Hamilton says to the obfuscating Aaron Burr: “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what will you fall for?”

It is a profound question, one which compels us to explore our beliefs, morals, convictions, and affiliations. It probes our intentions and incites us into action. More importantly, it inspires us to stand strong in a tide as opposed to being swept up in one.

It is a thinking question and it cannot be answered quickly. Or lightly. What do you stand for? The words are important. Life-altering.

What. Do. YOU. Stand. For?

Amid this current political atmosphere, I return to this question again and again, not only asking it of myself, but expecting others to ask it of themselves. And this is where it gets tricky because while I know my thoughts and beliefs, you must TELL me yours, which means I have to be able to trust that what you say—your WORDS—are reflective of YOUR beliefs, morals, convictions and affiliations. Not anyone else’s. YOURS.

And the question does not leave room for obfuscating. To answer honestly and with conviction, one must have a voice that is not simply an echo of what is being said by others. 

What do you stand for? It is a specific question that demands a specific answer; the weight of it pins one down, and to squirm, dodge, or even deflect the question is very revealing.

Conversely, one can broaden the question’s scope to ask this: If you stand for EVERYTHING, then what will you fight for? This, too, is telling. If one believes all things, panders to all people, and tries to be something for everyone … then what does that person ACTUALLY believe?

I think a person who is vague about what he believes is equally as dangerous as someone who believes in everything. Both go wherever the wind takes them. It is only when you have both ends of the equation—knowing where a person stands and knowing where you stand—that you can decide. After that, it takes courage to take a step forward, or honesty if you need to step back and reevaluate.

Politics today may not be any better than they were in Hamilton’s time, but we can glean some lessons. In the election of 1800 Hamilton had to decide whether to endorse Thomas Jefferson (a person he never once agreed with) or Aaron Burr (his political adversary). In the end, Hamilton chose Jefferson, simply because Jefferson had beliefs whereas Burr had none.

What do you stand for?

Ask yourself the question. Delve deep for an answer. And then proceed with strength, conviction, and most of all, understanding of others who are trying to figure this out too.  

Finding God in the Ordinary and Mundane

Ordinary and mundane. That's how I've been thinking about life lately. There's not a lot of excitement; rather, there is not a lot of GOOD excitement because bad excitement ... there is plenty of that. Sometimes it feels as if I am either wafting through an ever present smog of ______ (fill in the blank), or holding my breath waiting for a better tomorrow.

If I'm being honest, though, there is a lesson here. I can allow myself to get caught up in a tide of worldly concerns, or I can embrace this time as an opportunity to bloom where I am planted. American theolgian Frederick Buechner once said that a sense of emptiness and unease can be the sound of God's voice in a world that has explained him away; that the sense of unease, that longing for something more, means finding God in the unknown.

And so I will find my way ... even in the ordinary and mundane. 

The Year Time Stands Still

Imagine a small, Medieval Tuscan town festooned with colorful flags draped from windows and balconies or carried by excited fans through a maze of narrow streets, alleys, and contrade (neighborhoods). There is a palpable buzz of excitement as people yell good-natured insults, talk strategy, and sing catchy tunes that encourage participation. The entire town is waiting for the start of Siena’s Palio, a 90-second bareback horse race around the Piazza del Campo.

Over 500 years of tradition are behind this very moment in Siena.  

We were in Siena just last September, and that beautiful Tuscan town was, without a doubt, a favorite with those traveling on the Girls’ Trip to Italy. As we were making our way to the Piazza del Campo and learning about the Palio, something incredibly special happened … we were introduced to Rosanna Bonelli. In 1957 this stately, elegant woman was the first (and only) female to race as a jockey in the Palio.

It was a moment filled with layers upon layers of history.

And this year—for the first time since WWII—Siena’s Palio has been cancelled.

2020.

The year time stands still.

Rosanna Bonelli

Siena's Palio, 2019

Siena

flag of the selva contrada (neighborhood)

photo credit: mavizpj

St. Catherine of Siena

So excited to meet Rosanna Bonelli

Siena collage

Siena

the stuff of gold

i have a chunk of time

a hunk of chunk of time

no corked bottle

but a crystal goblet

filled with sparkling possibilities

and possibilities for sparkle

 

tick tock, tick tock

goes my hunk of chunk of time

 

i could dance til’ I’m dizzy

or sit like a lady

sing a song of sixpence

or rock an 80’s tune

maybe read a Tolstoy novel

or a book by Dr. Seuss

 

tick tock, tick tock

goes my hunk of chunk of time

 

i could be outrageously silly

or somber and stately

bake almond biscotti

or lick frosting off oreos

perhaps do something backwards

like eat breakfast after lunch

 

tick tock, tick tock

goes my hunk of chunk of time

 

the stuff of gold

this hunk of chunk of time

a whole lot of nothing

or a bunch of something

slipping through my fingers

whether I do or do not

 

tick tock, tick tock

goes my hunk of chunk of time

Poor Joe

Every year Joe and the boys purchase a Street & Smith's College Football Preview magazine. They  then read, discuss, analyze, and argue about the upcoming fall football season.

Yesterday, Joe came home from work, walked over to his desk to pick up his copy of the magazine, and then walked into the kitchen to ceremoniously drop it in the trash.

He didn't even want to talk about it. 

Speak to Me Sunday: Finding Meaning in Michelangelo's David

Last night I was listening to our pastor's homily on the Gospel reading of Peter walking on water and how, in the midst of what was an incredible miracle, there was fear. Peter was experiencing something powerful and unknown, something which was unexplainable, and when his fear because bigger than his faith his steps faltered. How different was David's reaction in the Old Testament when he walked forward to face Goliath armed only with a rock, a sling, and a deep faith in God.  

And because I was thinking about David, I thought of Michelangelo's interpretation, so I give you this ... an excerpt of a presentation I did before our trip to Italy last September. 

Michelangelo's David

1- Michelangelo’s sculpting methods: Unlike most sculptors who circled around a block of marble chiseling from all sides, Michelangelo worked from the front to the back. He believed that an object was imprisoned in stone and it was up to him to release it.

2- The Prisoners: As you walk down the Galleria Hallway and see David in the distance, notice the unfinished works along the wall. Known as the prisoners, captives, or slaves, these are unfinished works by Michelangelo. Because he sculpted from the front of the stone to the back, the unfinished figures look as if they are emerging (or trying to escape) from the stone.

3- David by the numbers: Michelangelo's David is massive at 17 feet tall and more than 12,000 pounds. When it was completed it took four days and forty men to move the statue just half mile from Michelangelo’s workshop behind Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral to the Piazza della Signoria. 

4- Using the flaw: The block of marble that Michelangelo used had been discarded more than 50 years earlier by Donatello who claimed that it had a flaw.

5- Breaking with tradition: Michelangelo chose to depict David at a different point in the Biblical account. Most artists and sculptors portrayed David after the battle with Goliath—often holding his severed head; however, Michelangelo broke with artistic tradition by portraying him just before the battle.

6- Ready for action: While it may seem as if David’s pose is casual, he’s not. His face in concentration, the rock hidden in his right palm, the veins standing out  in his hand, and the slingshot casually resting on his shoulder hints at him waiting for the right moment to attack—that is, he’s feigning casualness to spring the element of surprise.

7- The ultimate Renaissance man: The slingshot he carries over his shoulder is almost invisible, emphasizing that David’s victory was one of cleverness, not sheer force. He transmits exceptional self-confidence and concentration, both values of the “thinking man” which was considered perfection during the Renaissance.

8- Out of proportion: As with his Pieta a few years earlier, Michelangelo played with proportions by giving David an unusually large head and an imposing right hand. While this may have been because the statue was intended for the façade of Florence’s Duomo, some scholars believe that Michelangelo intentionally over-proportioned the head to underline his concentration, whereas the hand’s exaggerated size symbolizes the pondered action.

9- The hand of God: The asymmetry of David’s hand can be studied even further. Some believe it to be Michelangelo's clever nod to David's nickname, manu fortis—which which means strong of hand. Additionally, the large hand also represents the hand of God guiding David to victory.

10- More to give: Five years before David's debut, Michelangelo's Pieta made him famous. But he had been so young that many weren’t completely sure if he could produce another masterpiece. But it was his David that defined the 29-year-old High Renaissance artist as a master sculptor. And just imagine, four years later (in 1508) he would begin work on his greatest painting achievement in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  

Whoever has seen this work need not trouble to see any other work executed in sculpture, 

either in our own or in other times.  

~Giorgio Vasari, Italin painter and architect (16th c.)

Friday Favorites (vol. 7): Sculpture in a Garden

My weekly roundup of a few of my favorite things will include only one thing today. Because sometimes you find the one thing that says everything ...

GIVE

by Lorenzo Quinn

This is the most recent creation by Lorenzo Quinn--an artist known for his iconic hand sculptures. Found in the Boboli Gardens in the heart of Florence, GIVE depicts the hand of a man and a woman cradling an olive tree, the serene scene underscoring the relationship of the hands to each other, to the tree, to the earth, and ultimately to humanity and the world. It conveys the act of giving without expecting anything else in return. 

And in a world that has gone all topsy turvy lately, this sculpture offers a moment of peace and reflection. 

Pesto Passion (and a pesto secret)

When we were in Italy last September we spent several days in the region of Liguria, the third smallest of Italy's 20 regions. The Italian Riviera, with its resort towns and rugged coastline, is located in Liguria, along with the series of picturesque fishing villages known as Cinque Terre. Because of the unique geography of mountains and sea, the climate and the land is similar to what you might expect in southern Italy with palm trees, citrus fruits, flowers, and olive trees growing on the terraced hillsides. 

As you can imagine, the region is known for its delicious seafood, but perhaps the most famous of all its culinary offerings is pesto because the mineral-rich seaside soil and temperate climate produces the three main ingredients to make it: Genovese basil, Ligurian extra virgin olive oil, and pine nuts. 

During our stay, one of the towns we visited in Liguria was Portovenere where we all discovered the deliciousness that is pesto. It was sold everwhere--at a tiny stand at the entrance of the town, in all the restaurants, and in most shops. They even featured it as street food--pasta made with pesto in to-go cups, and because we were curious, my sister and I each bought one and walked around the town's tiny alleys eating cold pasta with a plastic fork and oh my goodness it was so good. 

Before we left Portovenere I stopped at a small stand to buy some jarred pesto, and it was there that I made a tragic mistake, one which every traveler makes who is worried about luggage space: I only bought one jar. 

Once I returned home and served pasta with the pesto from Liguria, the cheers turned to groans when my family realized the jar was finished. Done. Finito.

Now, before you lecture me about making my own, please know that I do make pesto. The ingredients are easily accessible BUT it never tastes as good as the pesto from Liguria. It couldn't possibly. I need the Genovese basil, the olive oil from olives warmed by the Ligurian sun, and the pine nuts from pine trees planted in the rich, seaside soil. 

BUT ... and here it is ... MY PESTO SECRET!!!

Basil Pesto from Costco. Folks ... this pesto is awesome. Do you know why? Look at the label: 100% imported Italian Basil D.O.P. (Genovese Basil). And in case you're wondering, the D.O.P. label stands for Denominazione d'Origine Protetta / Protected Designation of Origin (which guarantees that the product is produced, processed, and packaged in a specific geographical zone according to tradition). 

Basically this means that the Costco pesto is made with basil from the Ligurian region, which makes it a good substitute until we can return to Italy and get the real thing. 

And since we're all about basil and pesto ...

Tips: 

-In Italy, pesto is rarely cooked; to use, simply stir into the pasta at the last minute.

- Pesto has a strong flavor, so a little goes a long way.

-While there are different ways to make pesto, the traditional way uses fresh basil leaves, pine nuts (lightly toasted), fresh garlic, high quality extra virgin olive oil, sea salt, and either Parmiggiano Reggiano or Pecorino. 

Fun Facts:

-The Italian word for pesto (pestare) means to pound, or to crush. Pesto was orignially prepared with a marble mortar and wooden pestle. 

-Among fresh herbs, basil is king. The name derives from the Greek "basileus" which means king or emperor. 

pesto pasta in a to-go cup

2019 Girls' Trip to Italy: exploring Portovenere

Climbing up to Portovenere Castle

Portovenere seaside

taking in the magnificent view

exploring, lighting candles in the castle chapel

The Weird and Wonky First Day of School

In the school or no school decision, as a family we decided that Timothy will attend school. He was not keen on the Learn From Home (LFH) option, and he's been working at Publix anyway, so this morning ... off he went. But there is no denying that this First Day of School is like none other. 

Here's why:

There was no traditional back-to-school shopping for clothes (except for a pair of sneakers). We went through Timothy's closet, he was fine with what he had, and as a result we stayed out of the mall, Target, and Old Navy.

Timothy went shopping for school supplies by himself. After going through what we already had, he only needed the following: notebook paper, notecards, pencils, colored pencils. For the first time he not only drove by himself to get the supplies, but he insisted on paying for them. Grand total for the supplies: $8

This will be the first year EVER that I'm not driving Timothy to school or picking him up afterwards. This has me all mixed up. On the one hand I am really, really going to miss our conversations in the car to and from school; on the other hand, it will be nice waving to him from the driveway with cappuccino in hand. 

Attending school on alternate days. This will be interesting. Home today, school tomorrow. Home, then school. Home, then school. It's like the mask rule: mask on, mask off. See next wonky item on the list.

Going to school wearing a mask. I keep a basket of cloth masks by the back door so he can grab one when he leaves. When he comes home, he will drop it in the laundry room sink to be washed. 

A modified school building: reduced class sizes (many of his friends who attended yesterday said they had several classes with 6-7 students), desks spaced apart, hallways designated as one way to keep students flowing in one direction, hand sanitizing stations, lunch tables with alternate chairs marked off (no students will sit next to each other or across from each other during lunch), and no loitering in common areas (students report directly to class as opposed to hanging out).

 So, there you have it. Sometimes the road ahead is clear and straight, and sometimes (like this year) you can't see around the bend, but that's life--ordinary and normal, but also weird and wonky. 

When I was Princess (a Once Upon a Time story)

Once upon a time we were sitting around the dinner table when I asked each of my boys (big and small) for one word that described me. I'm not sure why I did this, and in hindsight I see how this could have gone very badly, but I found their answers delightful. 

How my boys (big and small) described me ...

Joe: procrastinator

Nicholas: Italian

Jonathan: helpful

Timothy: a princess

Now, compared to Joe, the ENTIRE WORLD procrastinates, so I didn't take offense with his response, but for the record, I liked Timothy's answer best of all.

Then, a few weeks later we were driving to the beach when I had the following conversation with Timothy:

"Are you a princess?" he asked me.

"Well, actually I am a queen and Daddy is the king," I replied.

"A queen?!" he was indignant. "That's too old. Nope, you're a princess."

And there you have it. A princess. It may have been Once Upon a Time long, LONG ago ... but still. Once a princess, always a princess.

That's how it works in fairy tales.

A Life Lesson . . . Spot on

Life lately seems to be so much about labels--democrat, republican, black, white, mask wearer, non-mask wearer--that we forget there is a person behind the label...

A few years ago I needed to find a way to teach my son not to always focus on the negative. So one day as he was having his afternoon snack I placed a red circle sticker in the middle of my forehead and sat down across from him.

"Hi, sweetie," I said. "Do you notice anything?"

"Yeah, Mom. You have a sticker in the middle of your forehead."

"Is that all that you see?" I asked.

"Are you trying to be like those women from India with those red dots on their foreheads?"

"No, I'm not trying to be anyone else," I assured him. "What else do you see?"

He thought about it, and tried again: a target? (no); a zit band aid? (definitely no); a third eye? (the better to see you with ... but no).

I finally took pity on him.

"I know you see this red spot on my forehead," I said. "But don't you also see me?"

He was a little taken aback. We then talked about how focusing on one aspect of a person limits our understanding of that person, just as focusing on the negative makes it all too easy to let the one thing that hasn't gone right distract us from everything else that has. 

He's a bright boy; he got the point.

I used this same lesson one day when I was teaching high school and some of my students had been laughing at another teacher's quirky character trait, a teacher who stayed after school to help students with their homework and who attended every single sporting event to cheer for them. I drew a circle in the middle of a big piece of paper and went around the room asking everyone what they saw. They saw a circle, a black hole, a planet . . . but NOT ONE person said they saw a piece of paper. When I pointed this out to them and mentioned the teacher's name, they became quiet.

They, too, got the point.

We can complain because rose bushes have thorns,

or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

~Abraham Lincoln

 

Timothy, Italy 2006