Spare Parts

On Monday, July 21st, my cousin Karen gave birth to Sarah, her second daughter. The next day, her sister Kathy gave birth to Lucas, her fourth child, and her only son. These are our miracles - babies born at this time that my mother will never meet, speak to, or hold. They are here to breathe new life and stand at the threshold of new beginnings for a family battered down by sadness and trying to lift itself back up on the wings of tiny angels. We have come back, swatting away the cobwebs of sorrow to reveal new light on which to go forward. The Saturday following the lovingly anticipated births, the expanse of our heavily branched family tree gathers in Pennsylvania to meet and greet the new additions. There is quite a bit of laughter and good cheer. “I didn’t know everyone was going,” says my sweet husband, genuinely surprised. “Of course!” I cry with great enthusiasm, “Babies were born! The family is growing! You think we’re just going to send a card?” That’s okay, I think, he a

The sound filled the air gently. I heard it as soon as I turned the corner to walk the 8th Avenue tunnel. As soon as the music came, I was somewhere else in another place and, more importantly, in another time. This is new, I thought. The sound was so consuming, so enveloping and so tranquil. It seemed misplaced, but also perfectly situated. I walked slower than I usually do, when I race this tunnel to spend as little time as possible within its restrictive, suffocating tiled walls. Today I lingered and was drawn to the sound like a moth to a streetlight as twilight descends. The sound was everywhere. I looked about to see who else it was affecting as profoundly as it was me. It was still early and quiet. The people were few and spaced apart in large gaps, like an assembly line in a factory whose days are numbered. As I walked, the beautiful sound became louder, vibrating in my ears. The notes were so penetrating and beautiful, each painfully sad or endearingly tender. They came with

Every month, when I get my Oprah magazine in the mail, I am given another opportunity to read through the stories that – for the most part – make me truly think, feel, learn or realize something new. What I love most about that magazine is that it deliberately deviates from the usual magazine fodder that has become so banal and transparent. Although I do receive quite a few magazines at home each month, O magazine is the one that I read cover-to-cover every time. Even when I think a story has zero to do with me, or is a situation I have never experienced, or is so far re moved from anything I would know, care about or see, I always end up finding that one common denominator that proves to me that we really are all the same. Sometimes, if I think I can gain another perspective from a piece, I will actually read it again. I enjoy O ’s larger sized pages and the heaviness of it in my hands. It arrives like a welcome book, because it reminds me that there is still much to read and learn a

Holy moley! What a storm! I made it in on time this morning purely by the grace of God. There was an accident on the bus route and we sat for a while as it cleared out. It seems to me today that the gates of Heaven have opened up allowing torrential rains to pound the earth mercilessly. It has been almost non-stop since yesterday evening. Before I say another word on this, just as an FYI, No! We’re not flooded. That too is a miracle because the amount of rain and its consistency of this storm have all the necessary evils to cause such a catastrophe. I suspect this storm is somehow tied to the narrow end of that Hurricane Dolly that slammed into the Mexico and Texas border. However, since it is still raining (and is expected to continue all day), I cannot cry victory just yet. (For safety’s sake, I put my remaining photo albums and Coach bags on top of our high bed. Priorities!). Better safe than sorry and I learned that lesson the hard way! It’s sad that each time it rains this much I

I’ve been a bad girl! There have been no new writings in my blog in days! I was on hiatus! OK, I really wasn’t, but I feel the need to lie. Before that, I was away. That part is true, though. I want to say that the blissful state in which I returned to work a week ago, following my visit to the Hershey Spa, is to blame for my inability to write, but why lie (I did that before - look up!). Truth is I’ve been lazy. Finally, I am back at the keyboard! Nothing says, “You’re getting old” faster than when you realize you’re living through something you went through years ago. This current, seemingly unending, concern with fuel and energy costs and the domination of the topic in our media, is not the first, but the second crisis of this nature in my lifetime. During my first crisis, in the mid- to late 1970s, our country was more concerned with oil shortage than with rising oil prices. There was a fear of running out that was ever present. Rising energy costs, decreased supplies and regional

A while back, before I was married and when I was more heavily involved in writing in my every-day existence, I spoke with a young woman on the phone that was a freelance writer. Freelancing is a nice gig, if you can get it. Although she was supposed to be interviewing me for a piece in a medical journal, in typical Marilyn fashion, I was doing most of the questioning. Inadvertently, I was getting a lot of useful information out of her that I still believe to be true to this day. One of the things that this young woman said has stuck with me all this time later. Freelancing is what you do when you know someone who knows someone who knows someone else in the business. A-ha! Not an easy chain to link on to, I thought. The young woman’s name was Alyson and she was Orthodox Jewish. She was recently married and expecting her first child. She was all of 21 years old. If you know me, you know that for whatever reason – alignment of the moons and planets to the sun, or whatever – I tend to

After a full and very welcome 10-day separation from the office, I am unhappily back at work. In the interim, I was completely separated, as well, from Internet and my blog. However, I am back to reality and this is the first entry. Sit back and relax – this will be a long one! Joe and I spent the time off traipsing through the beautiful state of Pennsylvania. Accompanying us this time around was our new favorite gadget, the GPS. What a marvelous little invention this is with its countless loaded maps, restaurant and local shopping directions and superior knowledge of all points of interest, as well as random addresses and little known streets. The voice of the “woman” who navigates us is equal parts stern (like a librarian) and pleasant (like a reassuring travel companion). As a result of this addition, we were emboldened to set out for unknown regions with fearless abandon. In truth, we did have set plans that were, for all intents and purposes, set in stone (or credit card bills).

On the road again! Joe and I are off to see the beautiful state of Pennsylvania! Hershey! Lancaster and the like! No blogs until I return! ~~~~~~ xoxoxox ~~~~~ xoxoxo ~~~~~~

Okay. So here it is…my birthday…July 6, 2008. ***Disregard the date above - This blog is on some strange Pacific time*** It is just about two hours into it. First thing I can attest to is that at 38 (yes, there, I said it!) I have yet to master sleeping. Of course, I sleep. However, I am not a good sleeper. It’s like this elusive skill other people seem to have that I lack. So it is exactly 1:45 a.m. and I am up, waiting for sleep, like it’s going to suddenly knock on my door and ask to come in and stay awhile. So while I am up, I thought why not jot a few things down for posterity? What are the thoughts running through my head at this late (or incredibly early) hour? How can I document 38 in a meaningful way? To start, I am quite saddened that I did not get to see my niece for my birthday and before her first plane ride for vacation. Such is life. I am accepting that she is not mine and moving on. Also, as I was in the bathroom washing my face and applying my anti-everything fac

“Starbucks run! Any takers?” It’s just a few minutes after 3 p.m. Tuesday afternoon and I have come to expect this announcement almost daily from one of several people in the department. In fact, I gauge the time by it so much so that I don’t even need to look at my watch on our about three o’clock. Personally, I am not a fan of Starbucks coffee in the least, so I disregard the coffee mating call, or politely decline. It is the responsibility of Robert and Melissa today to make the all-important trek to the Starbucks on Union Square. Never mind that the company provides free Starbucks brand coffee in the coffee makers all throughout our building for free. Never mind that if they needed the so called Starbucks fix, they could just as easily walk over to the kitchen on their respective floors and pour themselves a cup of it free-for-nothing. Never mind that the fully stocked refrigerators have every choice and percentage of milk known to man, plus the necessary sweetening agents and no