The Feast of St. Joseph's



St. Joseph is one of the most beloved saints among Italian-Americans. As the patron of workers and the protector of the family, he's honored with a feast on March 19th.

A table is blessed by a priest presiding over a statue of St. Joseph. A stalk of lily blossoms, votive candles and a lace tablecloth are used to decorate the feast table. All are invited to partake of the traditional meal of pasta with a meatless sauce, fish, St. Joseph's egg bread, and Italian pastries. Optional donations are given at the table and given to the poor.

Keep in mind this is an open house, free food for friends, family, and strangers.Can you imagine the amount of food that had to be made? Our backyard looked like a fair. And as a child,  I HATED IT. I thought it was boring and more importantly, I didn't believe in praying to him. 

Then, like all of us, I had a year of holy hell.  I prayed to God, to Jesus, and nothing. He wasn't listening.
How could God allow this to happen to me? I had done nothing wrong! My mother kept reassuring me to have faith. I didn't, not anymore.

A few months later, my mother took me to the Sons of Italy for the Feast of St. Joseph on March 19th. I almost laughed out loud, but again, to please her, I attended.

The feast table was massive and in the middle was the largest statue of St. Joseph I'd ever seen. I mocked it. I talked to it disrespectfully, "I don't believe in you. But I'll make you a deal. You answer my prayers and I'll honor your day for the rest of my life...but ONLY if you give me some kind of tangible proof."

On March 19th, the following year, all my prayers had been answered. And believe me, they were massive requests. Since that time, he's been gracious to answer many more of my prayers: for my husband to find employment, for my step-son's healing, and for countless of other requests for my friends and family.

He denied me once in 2009. And I'm still praying.I can't believe only when everything is going my way. It's my turn to prove my faith to him.

This year I'm celebrating my 35th year, hosting the feast of St. Joseph. Join me if you can. March 23, 2014 and RSVP me.

It never hurts to believe in miracles.

PERSONAL WRITES: You Must Be the Change..

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world." - Gandhi

Like many of you, I am a Baby Boomer. I'm also a Flower Child of the sixties and I can't help but wonder what happened to all of us?

I believed we would be the generation that would change the world into a loving and peaceful universe.





We, as a united country and nation, need to take a closer look and resolve this problem. Boundaries have to be established NOW.

No weapons, licensed or otherwise, should be allowed inside schools, recreational family areas, movie theaters, malls, etc.

Airports don't allow a passenger to carry any weapons.

When I was in Europe in 2004, banks had one entrance and everything, including purses, wallets, keys, were placed in a locker before you could get inside the bank. Once you conducted your banking, you were led to another exit to the lobby where you could get to your locker. Everything inside was bulletproof. I remember thinking then that it was a little extreme. Well, I've changed my mind and think they were much smarter than us and much more proactive.

If it means we have to install equipment in every establishment, I'm willing to pay it because life is much more precious to me than anything else.

After what happened at The Groves movie theater this week, I'm forced to face reality. Violence is becoming more common in our world. I don't ever remember fearing for my safety if I entered a mall, a movie, or a school. As a pacifist, I've never believed in guns and I still don't. I do understand that we have a freedom that's priceless and I respect the right to carry a concealed and licensed weapon. But too much has happened in recent years for me to feel comfortable about it.

 A man was killed by a trusted, retired officer of the law, because of a petty argument. If this man hadn't been allowed to bring a gun inside, the argument could have been handled differently. It's too easy to pull out that revolver when tempers are flaring. It's too easy to pull a trigger when someone on the road cuts you off or tail gaits you.

Yes,  I want to have the right to defend myself in my home. Yes, I want everyone to keep their rights, but I don't want lives to be taken when other people are violating those rights. Too many people are getting away with murder. And I hope this man's attorney doesn't get him off on an insanity plea.

I'd like some feedback. Nothing angry, just open discussion. It's okay to disagree with me. Maybe we can come up with a resolution that will make everyone happy and a lot safer.

Peace be with you.

Fill Your Paper With The Breathings of Your Heart - William Wordsworth

Welcome to my new Blog: PERSONAL WRITES. This site will still be as up close and personal in sharing as much of my heart as humanly possible.

I hope all of you had a great Holiday. I was blessed this year to spend Christmas Eve with my Italian side of the family in Tampa. It made my heart sing and my head spin with the beautiful noise of Italians speaking over each other, hands moving in different directions just to make a point, and the room getting louder and louder by the minute. I loved every minute and thanked God I was there with them. So, I’m thanking my cousin Debbie for opening her heart and home to all of us. And I won’t make your mouth water by describing all the great food.

Believe it or not, this was the first time my son and his wife had the opportunity to celebrate Christmas with that side of the family. When he was little, he spent those holidays with his father. As an adult, my son would divide himself every other year at one house in Indiana or mine. And for all these years, I’ve always hosted a Christmas Eve at my house, so it was always a conflict to be with the Italians.

 I am so grateful to have been invited to be a part of that side of my family. I’ve missed that vitality and sincere demonstration of love in its purest form since my mother died.  Italians don’t hold anything back, as my previous blogs have demonstrated in a quieter way. You can’t always hear my words or see my hands moving, but I’m hoping you can feel them.

My husband, on the other hand, was huddled in a corner, holding his head in his hands, to block the noise and confusion. He claimed he was getting a headache. I merely asked him to pretend he was at the clubhouse at Southport, drinking with his buddies yelling across the table to be heard over the music. It’s the same thing, right?

On Christmas Day, my beautiful daughter by marriage to Dave, hosted a wonderful dinner at her house. Again, I felt blessed to be with my husband’s side of the family and having my son and daughter-in-law with me as well. Two holidays in a row, I was beside myself.

I made manicotti from scratch with tomato sauce and Cathy, Dave’s ex-wife, brought the steaks. Yes, isn’t that wonderful?  We had all recently taken a cruise together celebrating Dave’s 60^th birthday and it resulted in opening more doors to include everyone in the Dundas Household. To me this is the real gift we all shared on Christmas Day. We were joined in love and gratitude for all of our blessings.  I thought about Granny Mom that day because she had always been the thread that bonded us together. She would have been so proud to have seen us all in such harmony. Personally, I believe she did.

Now the New Year is upon us and all I can say is Be Kind, Be Loving and most of all Be Forgiving.