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A Rising Tide
Gratitude, Gothenburg, Sweden, photo by Sail Training International Today is the anniversary of my father’s death. As of today, I have lived half my life without him.
I’m not writing this for sympathy or condolences, rather, I am writing to share what half a lifetime of trying to understand my grief has taught me.
A lot has happened in my family during the intervening years since my father’s death. There have been births, graduations, marriages, milestone birthdays, more births, and, alas, more death.
All of these events have helped me focus on being grateful for the people I’ve had and still have in my life and the simple joys that surround me. Searching for things to be grateful for was a defensive strategy at first, but, over time, practicing gratitude became a reflex.
Slowly I realized that all the self-ravaging I undertook in the name of grief didn’t improve a single circumstance or ameliorate a moment’s pain or sadness. Now when the emotional sea becomes too choppy, I change tack and set a course for gratitude.
Grief has the power to alter us, but not the means to determine the form that alteration takes. That’s up to us. And it’s not an easy choice to make. How do we move forward without feeling like we’re leaving our loved one behind? For my father, it’s by remembering that, because I carry him in my memory and my heart, he is always with me. That and I have one of his dimples, a need for progressive lenses, and his swagger.
I am smiling today because, for the first half of my life, I had the best father on earth. Then, from that moment on, I’ve had the best father in heaven. How lucky am I?
If you are also missing someone, I recommend reading the following poem by Henry van Dyke. It has been a great comfort to me over the years.
Gone From My Sight
by Henry van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side, spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone."
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast, hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone," there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"
And that is dying...
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Not Coolatta, Bobby
US Secretary of Health and Human Services, RFK Jr., has Dunkin’ in his sights. Too much sugar, he says. Ya think? Massachusetts Governor Healey posted her reply:
From our cold, dead hands, Junior. Keep in mind most Massholes’ hands are cold from holding a Dunkin’ Iced Regular all winter. We’re highly caffeinated and ready for anything.
His timing is impeccable. Today is the 256th anniversary of the Boston Massacre. On behalf of the Dunkin’ devoted in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts… Bring it.
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A Lion In Winter
A lion called March,
with snow in his shaggy mane,
stalks my hope for spring. -
Relative Measurements
Winter storm Fern did not finish her tour of the US without visiting New England. It snowed all day yesterday and overnight. This morning I opened the curtains to discover…
We got almost a Fit of snow! 🚗❄️
A Honda Fit, that is. *snort*
Yeah, I’m not even remotely sorry.
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A Muse at Christmas, December 25: The Company You Keep
It’s Christmas Night. The twenty-four-day countdown of Advent has finished. Now the twelve days of Christmas are underway. I hope you enjoyed this year’s Muse at Advent series. It was a pleasure to write, and I appreciate your spending time here reading my stream of consciousness. Before I leave you to enjoy your Christmas night, allow me to share one more Yuletide musing.
Christmas cookie and candy tins for the fam. December 25, 2025
Today was filled with good food enjoyed with family and friends that have become family. Thoughtful gifts were exchanged and deeply appreciated. And there was so much laughter, I brought some home with me. It was a very good day.
After we enjoyed dessert, some sat around the dining table and talked about everything from book recommendations to cornhole boards. Others watched football on TV and bemoaned the poor broadcast coverage.
As I took a moment to look around and appreciate the assembled company, I noticed that everyone was relaxed and at ease. That’s when I heard a little voice in my head say, “This is the best gift you could ever ask for.” Amen.
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A Muse at Advent, December 24: Feeling Feasty
So many of our holiday celebrations center around food. The meals we share with friends and family at Christmas are the wellspring of memories that we carry with us and share with the subsequent generations.
Open Door number 24 if you’re feeling peckish.
December 24, 2025
This is it! The big night is here. It’s Christmas Eve!
All of the shopping, baking, parties, and wrapping are done. Tonight, we’ll enjoy a festive meal with friends and family, perhaps attend a midnight service, and hang our stockings. Children everywhere hope Santa will bring them their fondest wish while grownups reflect on the gift of Salvation. It’s a big night. But first, we eat.
Whether you prepare an elaborate Feast of the Seven Fishes or order your favorite takeout, Christmas Eve meals launch the festivities which carry into the feast day of the Nativity of the Lord. Every family has its own tradition that they enjoy. Sometimes it’s passed on to the next generation, and sometimes new traditions are born and take off. Dinner on Christmas Eve is an integral part of the celebration.
I asked my husband what his Italian family did for Christmas Eve. His uncle owned a pizza place in Queens, NY, and made pizzas for the whole family. That sounds like a lot of fun! I can imagine the smell of fresh dough and tomato sauce. The warmth from the kitchen combined with laughter and conversation must have been intoxicating. His uncle’s generosity and talent made for an evening to remember.
Meanwhile, here in Massachusetts, my father brought home Chinese food from his friend’s restaurant in Boston’s Chinatown. The cuisine was authentic. There was nothing else like it and we looked forward to it eagerly. While sitting in traffic, Dad would sometimes “sample” an hors d’oeuvre. He called it his delivery fee! His friend learned to double the order of Dad’s favorite treat so they’d survive the trip. We laughed at the half empty container when he unpacked the bag.
The memories we gather from these meals while in the on-deck circle for Christmas, often turn out to be our fondest. The gathering is usually smaller and the atmosphere more relaxed than Christmas Day. On Christmas itself, meal preparations are ongoing while wrapping paper is gathered up and everyone gets dressed and goes to Mass. There’s not much time to breathe before the guests begin to arrive. Tonight, while you eat your fish or low mein, absorb the moments; they are the next stitches in the tapestry of your Christmas memories.
We’ll be dining with my mother tonight. I asked her what she’d like to eat. We ran through a list of delicious options from Thai takeout to meatloaf. It all sounded good to her. When I asked what she really, really wanted, she said, “Honestly, I don’t care what we eat. All I want is your company.” On this Christmas Eve, indecision may keep us hungry, but rest assured, our hearts are full.
Merry Christmas, friends.
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A Muse at Advent, December 23: They Name Reindeer, Don’t They?
The holiday season is the one time of year that adults are allowed a modicum of whimsy. It’s a shame. As the old saying goes, “A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”
Door number 23 lets the whimsy fly.
December 23, 2025
When we were kids, we were encouraged to imagine flying reindeer from the North Pole landing on the roof. We knew each one by name. But as time passes, their names fade and we need to refer to poetry, stories, and songs to remind us. I wondered why that is until I realized that the imagination needs exercise like the rest of us. Use it or lose it.
The easiest way to get your imagination out of its recliner is to engage your sense of whimsy. Whimsy is imagination manifest. Let your mind wander a bit. Don’t think or rationalize, just be. Children have this skill mastered. If there are small humans in your life, watch and relearn.
Whimsy lives in the present. It requires releasing the past and future to fully embrace the moment at hand. Go for a stroll where there are lots of Christmas lights and be transported to another land and/or time. Read a story out loud and use different voices for the characters. There are so many ways to release imagination and engage whimsy. Each method is unique to the person who devises it.
I’ll share an example of mine. Today while running last minute errands for Christmas dinner, I saw a van parked with its rear doors open. Inside I discovered a moment of whimsy.
Jerry the Can To me, the red jerry can in the back of the van looks like a face. If you look too long or study it, the illusion quickly falls apart. That’s the nature of whimsy. It’s fleeting, but joyful.
Do yourself a favor right now. Wake up your whimsy. Try to name St. Nick’s eight reindeer without Googling. Better yet, get some friends or family involved. Make up some names and try to convince your cohorts they’re real. Anyway, who’s to say they aren’t? Clement Clark Moore only named eight in his poem. The rest of them aren’t out there flying around anonymously! The best part is, you’ll find that whimsy is contagious. It will be soaring like the reindeer themselves.
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A Muse at Advent, December 22: Season’s Wheezings
Yesterday I wrote about my affection for the Christmas carol “O Tannenbaum.” Today it seems fitting to reflect on evergreen trees as a symbol of the winter season. It’s customary at this time of year to
take them hostagebring them into our homes, decorate them, and sing about them. But for some of us, decking the halls with fresh greens is a fir pas.Door number 22 scratches a Yuletide itch.
December 22, 2025
The Evergreen is a symbol of life persevering in the face of a long, cold winter. Its fragrance is singularly invigorating, particularly indoors. It lends visual warmth and brings an atmosphere of freshness to the home. Unless, of course, pine is one of your worst allergies. *Raises hand*
While I love spending time with evergreen trees in the woods, singing their praises in German, and seeing them decorated at Christmastime, once inside my home their pungent fragrance sets my immune system ablaze. Because I wasn’t aware that I had this allergy until I was tested, my parents nearly killed me on an annual basis. Maybe that’s a little dramatic. But when you ‘re congested and wheezing, it feels that way.
The severity of my allergy came to light when I went for allergy testing. Trees and grasses were on my left arm. Animals and food were on my right. The conifer skin pricks lit up like, well, like Christmas. Oak trees turned out to be pesky too, but that’s only a problem if we sand the hardwood floors. My right arm is the subject for another door.
Prior to the tests we started to track the evergreen allergy on our own. My folks bought an artificial Christmas tree and used faux greenery garlands. I was breathing easily and enjoying Christmastime more. I could sing “O Tannenbaum” with sincerity. It was a relief to us all.
Some people think it’s a travesty to forgo a real Christmas tree. Having a real tree is a delight. So is breathing. If you’re blessed with the ability to do both at the same time, that’s awesome. For those of us who can’t, displaying an artificial tree allows us to enjoy tree trimming and placing gifts beneath its lovely, hypoallergenic branches while respiring freely. Win, win.
Whether your tree is real or artificial, the spirit of the evergreen’s enduring beauty during the depth of winter endures and stands, in our living rooms, as a symbol of persistence and strength. I think my faux fir does its inspiration proud.
My artificial tree decked out for Christmas.
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A Muse at Advent, December 21: Carols at the Spinet
The holiday season has many traditions, and we each have a favorite. For some people it’s baking, others enjoy all the parties, and some look forward to finding the perfect gift for that special someone. I enjoy all of those things, too, but my favorite part of the run-up to Christmas is singing Christmas carols.
Bang on Door number 22 to tell me to keep it down.
December 21, 2025
I have an old soul. When I was a kid the Bing Crosby and Perry Como Christmas specials were the highlight of the season. I would ask my parents let me stay up past my bedtime to watch them. They always said yes. I also waited with excitement for all of the animated specials and Rankin-Bass productions to air on TV. They all had catchy tunes which I would sing. My siblings and parents would take turns watching Christmas specials with me. I swear they had assigned a rota to prevent burnout. I was indefatigable.
The classic Christmas fare on TV and radio every year was, and still is, great fun. I also enjoyed the hymns at Mass during Advent. But my old soul longed for more. Then my father introduced me to the carols and hymns sung by English choirs on our local classical radio. His favorite was King’s College Choir. It became mine, too. Through the years we would buy the latest album, cassette, CD. The songs were the same, but the voices and arrangements differed. It was like hearing them again for the first time. Don’t even get me started on the descants.
Not to be outdone, my mother leaned into my Bing and Perry obsession and showed me that Johnny Mathis, Harry Belafonte, Herb Alpert also had the holiday spirit at their command. I soon had all of their albums, too. While my classmates were wondering “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” I was on a “Sleigh Ride” with Johnny.
To this day, I listen to this music with reverence, joy, and nostalgia. The records have long since worn out. Anyone who ever owned cassette tapes knows what happened to those. And nothing I own has a CD player in it anymore. My old mp3 player is around here somewhere. Now I have a digital playlist that I carry with me everywhere in a slab of glass that I can play at will. With so much music at my fingertips, I’ve developed my own holiday tradition. I make a playlist of Christmas music that is unique to the year. It’s a fresh rotation of choral favorites, classics, covers, and contemporary additions. It’s my personal holiday groove.
This year’s playlist features one of my favorite Christmas carols “O Tannenbaum,” known in English as “Oh Christmas Tree.” There are many arrangements of this choral masterpiece, but there’s something about listening to a German lyric version that makes it more magical. Perhaps it’s because the tradition of bringing evergreen boughs and trees into the home for the winter solstice originated in that part of the world. Give it a listen. This one has German and English subtitles. I hope you enjoy it. I know Dad would.
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A Muse at Advent, December 20: Writing in the Dark
A violent storm packing hurricane force winds has downed trees and knocked out power to many Massachusetts communities, including mine. Today’s post started out on good old-fashioned paper and worked its way back to the digital age over the course of 24 hours. Let’s open Door number 20. It’s around here somewhere…
December 20, 2025
Darkness is conducive to poetry. For me, undistracted thought after the sun goes down usually leads to haiku or altered song lyrics. Today’s entry is a brief observation based on the last 24 hours spent without electricity. I don’t trust that the power will stay on, so let’s get to it!
In case you’re curious, I stitched the sampler. Not in 1721. I don’t actually have a time machine. My designs are inspired by 18th century needlework. Power outages
are a writer's time machine
back to quill and ink.
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