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.

Resolutions

"You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream."
         C.S. Lewis
   
As the New Year began, like many of you, I made my usual list of resolutions: Of course I wanted to lose more weight and vowed to exercise more. When I finished writing everything, I realized I had written a full page of dreams. It felt more like a bucket list and all of them were revolved around my writing. I almost laughed out loud; still having dreams at my age, until I remembered the quote from C.S. Lewis. And my spirit was once again renewed in believing that I could do everything on that list. But setting goals and keeping them are two different things and as we all know life gets in the way of lists, plans, and blogging.

The good news is that I made goals that were reasonable and reachable. I did lose weight and with that also lost my high blood pressure &  high cholesterol.

Now we're in April and the time has gotten away from me. So much left to do.

The full completion of my first novel,"Finding Summer" is still in progress but there is light at the end of this tunnel and hope you will follow my new journey as I share the trials and errors of writing and publishing.

 Until next time, keep building your dreams.

Dancing In Thanks

Giving thanks is not always as easy as it sounds especially for those who are suffering a terrible illness or facing difficult circumstances. Perhaps they've lost their jobs or even the roof over their heads. Others may be struggling just to put food on the table. Surprisingly, these are the ones who are fervent in their thanks and gratitude.

I was thinking about this as I was stuffing my face with turkey, and all the other traditional side dishes. It was easy for me to say a prayer of thanks for all my blessings. I was surrounded by loving friends and I was blessed again when my extended family including my son and his wife joined us for left-overs. Our dining room table was filled with love, laughter and perfect harmony.

There were also memories of those I  lost who were no longer physically sitting at my dinner table. But, I can still see their smiles; feel their spirit and remember all the prayers they said for me and my family. I believe they still are. After all, they've got Higher Connections now.

There's always an extra chair. It remained empty but I never stop praying that one day she will surprise us all with her beautiful smile and loving heart and say, "I'm back."  No matter where I am or what I'm doing I always miss her.

I'm in constant prayer for her and realize I'm asking for a miracle.I'm sure God has answered me over and over again and I refuse to listen to what He's telling me. For some reason He's telling me "NO. It's not the right time." But when? I ask with a desperation that threatens my faith.

Maybe it's the Italian in me and my stubborn traits come out. I'm just not willing to hear the music when things aren't going the way I want them.

I think this may be true for all of us. We get discouraged and even angry in not getting our prayers anwered immediately. We're not used to waiting for anything. We live in a society that doesn't even like to wait in line or wait for our dinner to arrive after a certain amount of time. I believe a very impatient person must have invented the microwave.

Maybe I've lost the KEY: To hear the music and listen to the song down deep in my heart and Hear ONLY His Voice. I suppose many would call this blind faith. A strong belief that no matter how things appear at the moment things will get better and work for our highest good. Believe and ye shall receive. My mother always said to give thanks BEFORE a prayer was answered. And she was so confident and so grateful even before it actually came to pass. She never felt discouraged and remained faithful. Her heart was filled with music and she heard a never ending supply of music only she could hear. I  vow to never stop searching for it; listening for it.

I understand that Giving Thanks isn't reserved for one day and instead of viewing all the things that I don't have or what's missing in my life I will focus on what is right in front of me. Yes, I give thanks for everything and everyone in my life. I'm humbled by all that He has given me. I marvel at the prayers He has answered and duck my head in shame when I hear my negative thoughts.

I believe that every person who has crossed my path has been placed there for a reason. And there must also be a reason for those who aren't beside me at this moment in time. I trust Him. He knows things I can't possibly understand.

So the next time you see me dancing, I'm trying to listen to the music that's buried in my heart; the one that likes to play hide and seek on me. I'm trying to listen to His Voice; His Will, nstead of my own.

Join me next time and if you can hear His music, we'll dance the gift of Thanks and Promise together.

ANGEL IN-LAW

In-laws have been the brunt of comical jokes; a source for songwriters and an easy target for movies like "Monster-In-Law.  Portrayed by Jane Fonda, she  gave the audience a vivid picture of someone who was unbearable and manipulative.

I've heard horror stories from friends and family members whose own mothers-in-law subjected them to ridicule and open hostility. I adore my mother-in-law. My special name for her is, Granny Mom.

Long before I fell in love with my husband, Dave, I fell in love with her first. I thought if he had only half of her many qualities, he'd be perfect. Of course, back then, I didn't realize he'd also have half of his father's characteristics. (Just kidding).

I've learned a lot from this genteel soft-spoken Southern lady. She never says anything unkind and has taught me tolerance and commitment. Her mantra has been: "I may not always like my husband, but I will always be in-love with him."  She is the personification of a devoted wife and mother; self-sacrificing and unselfish and placing everyone else's needs above her own. 

She can discuss sensitive topics with intelligence and tact. Even at 89 years old, she has an open mind and a desire to learn as much as she can. Her mind is as sharp as a tack; her heart still tender and though her body is now frail and weak, she finds strength to carry her husband's coffee to him every morning on a tray.

Because of her, our dinner table is filled with animated conversation and sometimes heated debates. You would love to be a fly on the wall, hearing her and her son going back and forth. She is a strong Democrat and my husband listens to Rush. Need I say more?

She has been such a comfort to me;  tolerant of my faults and sincerely loving me in spite of them. Without fail, she is gracious and compassionate and always makes me feel appreciated.

The truth is, whatever I've given her, she has given it back ten-fold. I've been blessed in having this beautiful soul in my life. 

I don't know many people who can claim to have an Angel-In-Law.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN......

When my Nanna died of cancer in October of 1977 I had too much on my plate to deal with losing one of the most influential people in my life. Though the pain was staring at me like a plate full of disgusting Brussel sprouts, rather than eating it and digesting it, I shoved it all around my plate and separated it in a little compartment. I locked it up. I covered it without giving myself the time to heal by placing a napkin over it. Like Scarlett,

My Nanna on the far left with my Momma and my son David as an infant.

"I would think about it tomorrow". I would cry my eyes out tomorrow.

Tomorrow never came and I robbed my Nanna of something she deserved: My undivided heart. I was numb and I moved on with my life like a robot because the grand-daughter she loved more than life was too self-absorbed in her own personal problems; a pregnancy; a pending divorce; a custody battle and a search for a job without a penny to my name, not to mention having to buy a car.

On the day of my Nanna's funeral, I wasn't allowed the dignity of mourning her passing. A process server found me by her gravesite and handed me my divorce papers. But that was no excuse. How self-centered of me! She deserved more from me and it's past time for me to make amends. I have no doubt that she forgave me.  I'm the one who never forgave myself.

I've been told that I take after her. I hope so. Maybe there is something to be said about that old gene pool. She was always ready to go anywhere at any time in a moment's notice. Despite the generation gap, she was the one who went with me to the USF campus to hear Mark Lane speak about his book and the assassination of JFK. My Nanna is the one who marched with me through downtown Tampa in protest of what happened at Kent State.

This woman had no fear; no reservations in speaking her mind and more importantly in following her heart. She enlightened my definition of truth because it isn't always absolute. She didn't follow; she liked to lead. She wasn't a Democrat or a Republican; she voted for the man she felt would make a great leader; one who would be strong enough to carry through on promises that were made and one who would fight to preserve peace. If she was alive today, who would she vote for?  I would venture to guess that she wouldn't vote for either candidate. She would have probably initiated her own campaign, organized a different party and would have promoted a new voice in government. And she would have won. Yes, she was that powerful and yes, I'm exaggerating.

She didn't particularly like to cook but loved to entertain and could set a table fit for a king as long as it was understood that she was the queen that reined. She loved to travel and attended the opera and plays on Broadway; She could discuss politics and make a politician break out in a sweat with her brilliant mind and sharp wit. I witnessed it myself. Her free time wasn't wasted on trivia. She read all the literary classics. Once I saw her take an encyclopedia and read it from cover to cover. She taught herself how to read, write, and speak French, Italian and Spanish. She spoke English as if she were born in America without a trace of an Italian accent.

If I have an ounce of courage or any small measure of her intelligence I consider it a direct blessing from her. If I am an avid reader it's because of her. If I write anything at all, it's because of her encouragement and her faith in me and my ability. Her unconditional love definitely overrated me and my talents. I lack her ambition and her perseverance. I am neither a leader or a follower. I am disorganized and rather scattered where she was neat, organized and highly motivated. Taking action was her mantra.

But, I do have her passion for life; her quest to seek justice and truth by listening to both sides of an argument and to keep an open mind.  No matter how old I am, I still have a desire to learn new things and explore different avenues. What would I have done without this amazing woman who helped my mother raise me? Yes, we are a dramatic lot, us Italians and in our case slightly dysfunctional. But, we knew how to love and laugh and even fight without losing respect for each other. She got so mad at me once, she cut up my Indian moccasins with a pair of scissors. But, the next day, with tears rolling down her face, she patched them together again. Would you believe those shoes became even more special to me? I wore them with pride and a little humor accompanied each and every step I took. How many shoes have a story to tell? That would be an interesting avenue to take. Maybe on another blog.

So, this is for You, my beautiful Nanna - a dedication long over-due. My anguish and guilt; my tears of pain have been replaced with tears of joy and gratitude for having you in my life. I remember your words of wisdom and can hear the sound of your laughter. I can still see the twinkle in your eyes as well as the love behind them. That's a blessing in itself. What I've written today is embedded in my soul; it will travel beyond to other dimensions so that you can feel my love, devotion and respect.  I LOVE YOU NANNA with every beat of my heart. Until We Meet Again...