As Monday Comes Again

As another Monday arrives, again I sit back and wonder where the weekend went.  Three days passed by as quick as a flash and once again I find myself getting ready to return to work.  Friday seems so far away at this point, and, because next week I will be on vacation, I'm not looking forward to a quick-moving week.  Isn't that the way it is?  When one is eagerly waiting on their vacation, the days just seem to crawl on by.  So, why do the holidays come and to so quickly?  A bit of a paradox there I have to say.

The 1940 Census is finally here. I've waited years for this. It hasn't been fully transcribed, per se, and you can't look up your family members by name, but Ancestry now has all of the  1940 U.S. Federal Census images online, and, with a little bit of patience   lots of patience you can find your family and if you know where to look.  It's actually pretty tedious work going page by page looking for a familiar name, and then, when it is found, you jump and clap for joy before moving onto the next person.  On Friday, I managed to find my maternal grandparents, mom, and her sister and brother, and my maternal great grandma. I also found my paternal grandparents, their children, and my great grandma, Constance Mary...not to mention all the aunts and uncles I came across during my search.

Before the day was out, the tears were beginning to flow, not from hours of searching through some pretty sloppy handwriting at times, but  over the sense of loss I began to feel.  Maybe loss is not the correct word.  You cannot lose something that you never had. And that is the key.  There is a large portion of my family that I was never given the opportunity to know. Mom had been adamant that I was not to be brought around 'any' of my dad's family, and aside from one visit to my grandmother and one visit from one of my dad's sisters when I was ill, I had no further contact with aunts, uncles and cousins. 

It wasn't until I got into genealogy that I realized they were there, but 'seeing' them on the 1940 census, alive so close to when I was born, brought it all into reality.  There they were Constance Mary, my dad and his twin, their brother Willard and his wife, and their daughter, and all of them gone now.  There were cousins who died young, leaving children I wouldn't even begin to know how to find. It's times like this that I feel so very much alone. Yes, I have my hubby and my sons, but that's all I have.  I have many wonderful memories of my maternal grandparents but, there are nothing except from the few little tales  I've gleamed of them since working on my tree. 

Otherwise, I had a rather uneventful weekend.  After some housework, I took a long, long nap on Saturday afternoon to catch up on some much needed rest.  Sunday morning I baked a cake for Easter, a chocolate sheetcake with little blue  'peeps' for decoration. My eldest dropped by in the afternoon for a short visit; my youngest has a life of his own, but that is what we raise them to do.  In days past, the Easter bunny would have visited while the boys slept on the evening before Easter, and when the rose on Easter morning, the Easter bunny has hidden eggs, a symbol of renewal, rebirth and new life,  around the house and left behind candy filled baskets.

We grow older, and our children move on to start their own lives. One day they will have their own children, their own eggs to color, baskets to hide. We have passed the torch, and the journey of life continues. But, some things will never change. The Easter baskets may be no more, but, by golly, I still do love chomping into one of those big old chocolate Easter bunnies. And, just as I did as a child, the pretty little candy eyes are the first to go, followed by the ears.  So, in a way I guess I can say, tradition does continue.

Legend of the Dogwood

At the time of the crucifixion, the dogwood had reached the size of the mighty oak tree. So strong and firm was the wood that it was chosen as the timber for Jesus' cross.

To be used for such a cruel purpose greatly distressed the dogwood. While nailed upon it, Jesus sensed this, and in his compassion said. "Because of your pity for my suffering, never again shall the dogwood tree grow large enough to be used for a cross. Henceforth, it shall be slender, bent, and twisted, and its blossoms shall be in the form of a cross–two long and two short petals.

"In the center of the outer edge of each petal will be the print of nails. In the center of the flower, stained with blood, will be a crown of thorns so that all who see it will remember." 

Wishing you all a wonderful holiday weekend.  I've started mine a little early.  Took myself a mental health day of rest. See ya all on Monday.

Life Is by Mother Theresa

She was such a very special woman.  She was unselfish, courageous, with a great love for all. This was a woman of peace.  The following was written by her.

Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.

Life is a dream, realize it.

Life is a challenge, meet it.

Life is a duty, complete it.

Life is a game, play it.

Life is a promise, fulfill it.

Life is sorrow, overcome it.

Life is a song, sing it.

Life is a struggle, accept it.

Life is a tragedy, confront it.

Life is an adventure, dare it.

Life is luck, make it.

Life is too precious, do not destroy it.

Life is life, fight for it.

The Bear Cub

I  run my groups differently than my co-workers here at work do. I don't feel that standing up before a chalkboard and lecturing on the different types of drugs or 'telling' clients 'how' they should think as my office mate does, are the ways to bring about a sustained recovery. First of all, in my opinion, substance abuse is the outer manifestation of an inner conflict that the client has not been able to face. Hence, they drink or use drugs not only to mask feelings, but also to bury the pain even deeper. Until issues are addressed, they will continue to fester until they eventually boil over. So, in my groups, I like to encourage them to talk. I do this by handing out a motivational quote or a parable like the one that follows:

"The bear cub was miserable. Her father, the leader of the pack, had left a month ago to find them winter shelter and had not yet returned. Everyone went on as if nothing had changed.

One evening the cub had a dream in which her father appeared and said, Daughter, I know you grieve for me, but your burden is too heavy to carry alone. Share it with the others and let them comfort you. Sharing will only lighten your load, and if you can accept help now you will find it easier to give when others are in need.

The next morning the little cub woke with a much lighter heart. As it turns out, everyone in the pack shared the same dream. There was much hugging and crying and reaching out and healing.

We can easily lighten our loads by asking support from those who love us, knowing our turn to help will come."

As we read through this little tale, it brought to mind all special support I have found here in the world of blogs. We all have a need to connect with others, and blogging offers us the opportunity to meet people from around the world. It offers us a way to let someone into our lives. When one of us is ill, we worry about them and send them healing thoughts. When another is going through some sort of personal turmoil, we assure them they don't have to go it alone. We are there for each other, and that is such a good feeling.  Just wanted to take this opportunity to thank  you, dear friends, for helping to lighten my load.  I love all of you.   

Before closing, I wanted to share a little something special with you all.  There is a new client who was recently placed on my caseload.  Not only does he have a diagnoses of substance abuse and mental illness, but also some degree of retardation.  He's almost like a child. He caught me yesterday with a tear in my eye over the fish and assured me that it would be all right. 

Later I was seated at my computer and caught him passing by out of the corner of my eye.  He had a shopping bag in his hand, and he headed right into the room where we keep the tank with the little goldfish.  Through the curtain, I saw him reach into the shopping bag as he stood over the fish tank.  I flew out of my chair as clients have, in the past, attempted to feed the little fish bread and other items, killing them.  He looked up at me and smiled, "I told you everything was going to be all right."  No lie, he must have had over 100 little goldfish in one bag, 50 guppies in another, 2 beautiful goldfish types with a gorgeous blue coloring, and 2 little sea frogs. It was totally overwhelming, and luckily we do have an extra tank. His little gesture brought a smile to all of our faces and joy to a day of sadness.

A Bridge Called Love

My little fish is not doing well. Yesterday I had hope; today I know that his time has come. By the end of the day he will be gone. I've said my good-byes and told him it was okay to go. Such a little trooper he is, and it is so hard watching him suffer, struggling to stay with us. He's brought joy to so many people throughout the years. Such a legacy he leaves behind. I'm going to miss him so.

It takes us back to brighter years,

to happier sunlit days

and to precious moments

that will be with us always.

And these fond recollections

are treasured in the heart

to bring us always close to those

from whom we had to part.

There is a bridge of memories

from earth to Heaven above...

It keeps our dear ones near us

It's the bridge that we call love.

Author Unknown

The Month of April

And Spring arose on the garden fair,

Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;

And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast

rose from the dreams of its wintry rest."

- Percy Bysshe Shelley -

Welcome April !!!  When March was the first month in the calendar of the ancient Roman year, April was the second; in later times, when January became the first month, April moved to the fourth place. The Romans called this month Aprilis, stemming from the Latin verb aperire meaning 'to open' as this is the time of the year that the earth opens up to new life with the blossoming of trees and flowers.  Others say that this month was named for the Greek goddess, Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. The Anglo- Saxons called it Eosturmonath or Easter-month after the goddess Eoster, to whom they held festivals in this month.

The sweet pea and the daisy are the flowers for April. The daisy represents purity and the innocence of youth. Maidens wore daisies in their hair to proclaim their virginity.In Ossian's poems, the Daisy is called the flower of the newborn—most expressive of innocence.  In support of this statement there is a lovely old Celtic legend which says that   'each unborn babe taken from earth becomes a spirit, which scatters down on the earth some new and lovely flower to cheer its bereaved parents'. 

In another way the Daisy speaksof love. It is the oracle ofyouthful maidens. While plucking away the snowy petals, the fair questioner of fate should murmur low to herself the cabalistic formula...

"' He loves me, loves me not,' she said,

Bending low her dainty head

O'er the daisy's mystic spell.

'He loves me, loves me not, he loves,'

She murmurs 'mid the golden groves

According to a Roman myth, the Daisy owes its origin to Belides, one of the Dryads, female spirits of nature who were supposed to preside over the meadows and pastures. One day, while dancing on the turf , it seems that she attracted the admiration of Vertumnus, the deity who presided over orchards.  To escape from his advances, she was transformed into the humble Daisy, the Latin name of which is Bellis. 

The vividly-colored Sweet Pea is a native of Italy were first imported to England from Sicily in l699. It symbolizes happiness, blissful pleasure, and has been used to say good-bye.  In Victorian times, a gift of the Sweet Pea symbolized, "Thank you for a lovely time". Sweet pea are always given to celebrate the birth of a new baby and included in wedding flowers or a wedding bouquet According to Irish lore, it is believed if you plant the Sweet Pea before sunrise on St. Patrick's Day,  it will grow to be a lot larger than other Sweet Peas and be a lot more fragrant. 

Among the proverbs of this  month are the following:

A cold April 

The barn will fill. 

An April flood

Carries away the frog and his brood.

April showers 

Bring May-flowers. 

When April blows his horn 

It is good for hay and corn. 

April the First stands marked by custom's rules, 

A day of being and of making fools. 

In my opinion, Spring is not really here until I see the cheerful glow the Forsythia. Its blooms are not only a reminder that spring is on its way, but it also serves of a gentle reminder of days gone by, of childhood dreams and fantasies, of loved ones who passed away many, many years ago, but still remain in my heart.  My grandparents had a forsythia tree in their back yard, not to far from the chicken coop.  Those were some spunky little chickens who sent me running every time I walked past the coop to pick some forsythia for my grandma.  It's almost as if they 'knew' that I was afraid and were getting a kick out of putting a scare into me. 

This past Saturday when I went to the market, it was cold, dreary, and wet, a steady cold drizzle that chilled one's body to the bone. It was a depressing sort of day, the kind of day that all you want to do is complete your chores as quickly as possible and hightail it back to the warmth and comfort of your home. It was then that I saw it, that telltale bush with the yellow, star-like flowers that shout out 'Spring is coming, and all is well with the world'. Its flowers offer one  hope that better days are on their way.

"Forsythia is pure joy. There is not an ounce, not a glimmer of sadness or even knowledge in forsythia. Pure, undiluted, untouched joy."

- Anne Morrow Lindbergh-

Monday Morning Blues

The names of the days of the week are derived from a period in Anglo-Saxon England when the people worshiped the same pagan gods that made up those in the Norse pantheon. Monday, as the second day of the week, was so called because it was the day the ancients deemed as  sacred to the Moon. Hence, as  the first day was named in honor of the Sun,  the second day was named in honor of the Moon.

But, poor Monday sure does get a bad rap, doesn't it?  How many times do we here someone say, "I hate Mondays?"  Why, I even say that myself...almost every single Monday. We wake up Monday mornings with this cloud hanging over their heads as we leave our weekends behind. We don't even feel like getting out of bed, let alone getting dressed and leaving the comfort of our home. We're feeling too tired to face the week.  We suffer from the Monday morning blues. Actually, for some of us, myself included, they start as early as Sunday night as we are forced to come to terms with the fact that the weekend is almost over. 

Some people literally hate their jobs, and others dread the fact that they have to work for another five days before they get some time off. Sometimes our weekends are so busy that we have little time for rest and recuperation before we have to return to work. But, in most cases, the 'blues' come from a disrupted sleep-wake cycle. We stay up late and sleep in on weekends, then go to bed just 10 hours later in preparation for the new work week, often ending up with Sunday night insomnia. By Monday morning, our sleep cycle has shifted, making it difficult to get out of bed, leading, of course, to the Monday morning blues.

I dislike Monday mornings with a passion, but the fact is, there is no way around it. I did play the big lottery in the hopes of finding a reason to retire, but since that didn't work, it's up and out there to make a buck.   So, to make my Monday morning a bit more manageable, I take care of whatever I can on Sunday...lay out clothes, prepare lunch, set out accessories, get my purse ready, make sure keys and metrocard are where they are supposed to be, and, of course, have coffee pot set for ten minutes before my alarm goes off. Still dislike being rudely pulled away from 'dreamland', which as I grow older has once again become quite vivid, and climbing out of bed, but having all this accomplished does somewhat take the edge off. If only the weekend could include Monday, it would be perfect, wouldn't it? But, think about it. Then it would probably turn into the Tuesday morning blues.

Happy Monday!!!