It's 3:00 In The Morning.

I'm sitting here in the wee hours because I can't breath when I try to lie down. I can't seem to recover from the October, 2005 hurricane here in Florida. This is 4 nites in a row now. I've had, over the last year, mega doses of steroids perscribed by my pulmonologist and endless courses of antibodies that are making my hair, eye lashes and eyebrows fall out, not to mention the water under my eyes. However, the hair on my legs and face are growing wonderfully. Isn't that always the way? If I wasn't walking around like a zoombie, do you know how much I could accomplish?

I know things could be worse, (and they have been), but I still think that one morning I'll wake up and be normal again. Is that niavity or wishful thinking, or am I just crazy? To wake up breathing and greeting the day with anticipation like I did most days of my life. I do so miss those days with such purpose and direction. I dislike feeling useless and isolated.

I know today is March 2nd and I think of Laurie and that beautiful, bright face, and I smile. I remember the first time I met her, when Greg and Cher got married in Texas so long ago, such a beautiful little girl. My prayers are with her and the Boncimino Family always, but especially today. I have such admiration for the grace in which they handle this terrible lossl God Bless Them Always. This month is also my mother's birthday. I miss her so much.

My mother and father were incredible people. Looking back, I wonder how in the world they raised 6 children in the 30's and 40's. I was the only one born in the 40's. Do you know that birthcontrol was against the law when they were married. Doctor's and women, were put in jail if suspected of dispensing or using birth control. How far have we come since then. And would you believe, I was the only baby planned? Per her doctor's advise, it would solve her "women's" problem. Typical for that point in time. Also, I grew up learning how to curl up under a desk at school when the sirens went off. It was a drill for nuclear attacks. I was born 4 days after Japan surrendered and just months after Hiroshima and Nagusaki. But it was the norm. Mom and dad never made a big deal out of it. They were always the united front. But they did decide to buy a farm, whether to get away from the city, for a better life, so dad wouldn't have to work so hard, in case someone, (Russia) did drop an atomic bomb, I think, all of the above. Mom had 3 sisters and 2 brothers also. We had gobs of cousins and they all spent the summer at our farm. It was a fun time and mom made sure everyone ate to being stuffed. Dad's mother died at childbirth with him. His father left him with another family and found himself another wife in Italy. He had 6 half siblings, but the family was not close.

It was a most picturesque property. 25 acres, hills, blueberry and raspberry patches and apple orchards. A huge 8 bedroom farm house with a cold room or mud room where my father hung whole provolones and salamis. In winter, milk, butter and meats. A kitchen with a black iron stove fueled by wood. Food never tasted so good. My brother Ted, probably 14 yrs. old, had 12 eggs, 1/2lb. of bacon, loaf of Italian bread and 3 glasses of milk for breakfast as did my brother Dick, the oldest. Ted was so special. He was a truly gentle soul. Beside cooking 3 huge meals a day, mom, jared tomatoes, peaches, blueberries, raspberries and apples. She baked resturant sized pies. Dad made wine and peach brandy, yum. My job was picking the fruit. They and we were happy. Mom also fed or 'slopped the hogs." One day, at first snow, she went to their pen with 2 stainless buckets full of scraps. When they saw her they started running toward her. She started running with buckets in hand and lost her boots in the snow.

Of course there were cows, pigs, chickens, dogs, cats, birds and anything else my sister Esther could tame, which was most anything. Even an armadillo and a crow that had a broken wing. It was in Fishkill, NY. Way, way up state NY. And of course, the six of us. It was hard work, although I was 5 when we moved up there, but so much fun....the egg fights, the milk fights, the kittens born in the hay barn and the best of all, watching the first calf being born which I was allowed to name, Twinkle. She followed me all around the farm and would, most days, greet me at the school bus that stopped in front of our house.

My sister Elinor was my major care taker, being the oldest girl. What a beautiful soul she was. We were extremly close. She named her first child after me. I remember always having to have her in my sight. When she got married just a year later, I was devistated. I missed her so much. My sister Esther decided the armadillo was to sick to leave alone, so she broght the thing to Elinor's wedding. When it got out of a closet, there was women and men jumping on tables all over the room. My aunt screamed so hard, she broke a string of pearls around her neck. Needless to say, mom was really upset. But that was Esther. She kinda always did her own thing, especially at dinner time. She would find a new way to eat every nite. One nite, Mom just had enough when she started cutting peas in half and sliding them on her knife into her mouth. So Mom threw the first thing she picked up off the table, a fork. It stuck in her forehead and we all started laughing. Mom felt terrible and went in the kitchen to cry. But the very next day, my brother Dick was torturing my mother. He was such a brat, and the oldest and used to getting his way. He wanted something and mom said "no" and he just kept at her. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner and mopping the floor with this huge old mop and I quess hit her limit and threw that mop at him thru 2 rooms. It hit him in the b ack of the head and knocked him out. Think he was 19 at the time. Again, she was crying in the kitchen. But what a scootch he was.

My siblings pretty much treated me like a toy. My sisters always fussing with me, Dick always teasing me, Ted always protective of me. They were each a hoot. Barbara, was 2nd youngest, 8 years older than me, and very responsible because she was my next care taker. She had a lot of accidents on me as I remember. But we got along, after all, she was very young too, and the youngest for a long time before I came along.

It was a time I treasure, memories of all the people that I loved. Gone now, but never forgotten. I will never forget them and I truly thank "HIM" for my life with these spectacular and unique, loving people.

I hope everything is well with you, God Bless You and Keep All of You Safe.

What Would My Mother Say?

Coming from an Italian household and being the last of six children, I have to say I've had a wonderful childhood. The nearest sibling to me is 8 years older, but of course, we never, ever discuss age. I really never got a chance to say much as a child. My sisters, all older, (second, third and forth mothers) were always intervening for me. I know they did it out of love, but it made me rather shy and self conscious growing up. In any event, I find in my later years, I have so much to say.

What would my mother say about this? " You keep your feelings to yourself, be strong, don't let anyone, especially your children here about any problems, financial, emotional or otherwise, and whatever you do, don't let friends or family know." It's so wierd that I can hear those words like she is standing right in front of me. But my mother came from such a different time and place than me. Things were so different for her, coming to a new country, living thru the Depression, predgudice, marrying my dad, who made Antonio Bandaras look ugly, raising 6 children. Things were always kept quiet, not to make a spectacle or disturbance or draw attention. But she and Dad made sure we had all the advantages that they did not. They did a spectacular job, don't you think?!

Well, getting back to the fact that I have so darn much to say, I'd really like to start at the point of Marrying Bruce. I thought it was forever, I made the promise, so did he. He even had to take classes before we were married about my religion, RC, and signed a paper after completion that we would bring up the children RC. I believed everything!!!! He thought I was a religious fanatic because I went to church on Sundays. Somewhere between marrying him and Christopher and Cheryl, a span of 8 years, he suddenly stopped talking to me, stopped performing husbandly duties, and never, to this day, would tell me what was wrong. After 31 years, I still do not have any closure. I don't know why. I was 28 at the time, 108 lbs. and to everyone else's discription, quite good looking. So what was it? Was I too stupid, to thin, too what?

The hurt took a long, long time to get over and it manifested in many ways, I must say, sabbotaged many of a relationships I could have had, but, I know there are 2 sides to every story. He would just not ever tell me what his was. After 2 years he remarried to an 18 year old. So maybe I was too old? In any event, many years of spitefulness and hurt, I'm ashamed to say, on my part, went by. And of course, my children suffered for it. If I could take that back, erase their pain, die instead, I would do it. I am so sorry they suffered for our mistakes! There is nothing I can do to take it away, but maybe ask them both to forgive me. Tell them that I was 19 when I married their father and I truly thought we would be a loving team like my mother and father. And also tell them that in spite of me, they have loving and loyal relationships and marriages, and I couldn't be more proud of either of them. I don't know if I'm going to have the courage to publish this. There is so much more to the story, like marrying Mr. Wonderful #2. If I could take back one thing in my life and change it, it would be ever knowing him. But he's dead now, and I struggle each day to forgive him. I thought I had forgiven Bruce, but recent events just stir up old, painful memories. I really think he married me because it was time for him to be married. I don't feel he ever respected me or the fact that I was the mother of his children. But we will never know.

I can't even believe I'm writing this. You must think I'm an old embittered women. I have so much to be thankful for. Most of all Cheryl, Greg and Chris and Dannyelle. I bless Our Father everyday for letting me be Cher and Chris' mother and giving me 2 more children in Greg and Dannyelle. I can remember working when Cher and Chris were home, all the time. I was so scared all the time of meeting bills and providing. I was happy when they were home, but wish I could have provided more. I had no back up and no support. I, unfortunately, went it alone. I never thought to ask for help from family or church. I wish I would have now. I have so much more to say, but I'm slowing down because of the hour, but I want you to know that I am reasonably happy, considering my circumstances. And I do so enjoy your pictures, blogs and emails.

Cher and Greg, tell me your not ashamed of me for letting some of this out of my system. I don't think I could bear causing any more pain to you. Please remember I love you always.