September days

While training for the Avon Walk in the early fall I was struck by the distinctive September days, distinctive now perhaps because 9/11/01 made crystal blue skies with white puffy clouds and a hint of chill in the air the collective memory of September days for those who lived through that unforgettable time. I pondered the tenth Anniversary of September 11th and the tenth Anniversary of that magical nite where nearly 300 of us gathered and toasted
In loving memory of those we lost...
In grateful tribute to those who serve...
We shall raise our glasses and celebrate life tonite.

During those ponderings it occurred to me that September seems to be a month of change. I am not saying that this is simply because of September 11th. It seems that this has always been, from the changes in the weather or the countless years I headed back to school or September 1996 when our beloved Nicky passed and three as yet unborn children, Abigail Nicole, Nicholas, and Gianna Nicole, received their names, or September 28th of 2001, the day I married my best friend or September of 2007 when Mom was diagnosed or September 2010 when Abby headed off to Kindergarten in an outfit that Grandma Goose Goose didn’t buy.
While so much of my life is as I imagined it would be after ten years the idea that Mom would not be here to celebrate and remember was definitely not what I imagined. As time marches on and does it job of dulling the pain and drying the tears of the past ... the emotions can still be easily brought to the surface by something as simple as a white puffy cloud. The toast made that night reminds me, and perhaps now some of you, to recall not only what we lost on September 11th 2001. 411 souls who perished running in to the towers, and 2585 more who perished trying to escape them, the Pentagon and a plane in Pennsylvania. We lost a sense of security and innocence we should never fully regain. And less globally perhaps, they serve to remind me to celebrate and appreciate what we have and those we cherish because you never know how a random Tuesday could be the day that changes your life forever...
So, as I have the past three years I will head out in a sea of Pink, to Fight the Pink Fight… so that Abby won’t have to… face any more than the changes in the weather and back to school in her many Septembers to come.

Why Do I Walk...

Another year has passed, this year has been different than any other in my 40. It has been a year of firsts, not the happy firsts of previous years but the year of firsts without Mom. I am walking with NYBlue for Pink once again in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. It seems these days that everyone is walking for something and sometimes I wonder as I am sure many of you do what the point is in walking, just donate the money and go about your life, right? What I have learned in my three years thus far is that the actual event is not about the money that is raised but about the awareness that the sea of pink provides. If just one woman looks out her window and remembers that she needs her mammogram then our aching legs have paid off. If one woman decides to join the Army of Women (check out my page to find out what an amazing group that is) then our job is done. If one woman who feels alone in her struggle to fight the pink fight gets a sense of community about her disease then our job is done. That my friends, is why we walk

September 11th

Much like it did on 9-11-01 and many 9/11's since, my phone rang just before 9a today, the voice and location on the other end were the same but rather than being filled with fear and uncertainty, the voice had a sense of nostalgia and tradition. Outside, it was a distinctive September day, distinctive now perhaps because 9/11/01 made crystal blue skies with white puffy clouds and a hint of chill in the air the collective memory of September days for those who lived through that unforgettable time. I wondered if this anniversary would be any easier than the past eight. As the day has progressed, I am struck by how easily the emotions of that day and time are brought to the surface.
As time marches on and does it job of dulling the pain and drying the tears of the past we must never forget...
As many of you may remember we gathered on 9-28-01 and toasted...
In loving memory of those we lost...
In grateful tribute to those who serve...
We shall raise our glasses and celebrate life tonite.
Those words rang true that magical nite nearly 9 years ago and serve now to remind me, and perhaps now some of you, to recall not only what we lost, 411 souls who perished running in to the towers, and 2585 more who perished trying to escape the towers, the Pentagon and a plane in Pennsylvania and a sense of security and innocence we should never fully regain. They also serve to remind me to celebrate and appreciate what we have because you never know how a random Tuesday could be the day that changes your life forever...

An Open letter to 2010 and and Invitation to 2011

Dear 2010, As your inevitable and much anticipated end is within sight I am struck by an unxepected sense of melancholy at your passing. For as much as I have wished you gone, I now realize that I was wishing away precious time. Time that will take with it, moments with my children that will fade to distant memories, and moments...just moments with mom that will never be replenished. While I will not miss your relentless stream of angry insults to my well being and that of those around me I have come to realize that your passing brings with it still more loss, aaahhhh the irony that is life.
But for all your angry wrath, and attempts to break my spirit I am still standing. A little bruised and obviously battered, not quite who I was before but still standing and ready to face your successor. Sincerely, MJ

Dear 2011, BRING IT. MJ

An open letter to 2011

Dear 2011,
First, I would like to thank you for being far more gentle to my fragile self than your predecessor. Yes, fragile, that is perhaps your greatest gift to me, the acceptance of my own fragility. Your June brought an end to the year of firsts without Mom and the beginning of the year of seconds that has proven to be different and in many ways more difficult. This was a phenomenon my dear friend and neighbor Carol warned me of. But I am still standing. Your July brought my 40th birthday, not nearly the life event I thought it might be. But I am still standing. Your fall brought with it my a-ha moment about Septembers and the legacy that month will forever hold in my heart and mind. Ten years has passed since I married my best friend and watched the towers fall. Ten years and We are still standing, together. Still standing, with two beautiful and healthy children that give me all I need to keep standing. Your second half has brought me a very different life than I had imagined but one that I am determined to appreciate and enjoy. While I admit that I was not hopeful when you started with a literal bang, as you come to a close I find myself a bit wary at your passing as you have in many ways endeared yourself to me. Yeats wrote, "Being Irish he had an enduring sense of tragedy that sustained him through temporary periods of joy." This quality is one I unfortunately posess, leaving me somewhat concerned for the arrival of 2012. But I am still standing...so 2012... BRING IT! Sincerely, MJ

Standards and Expectations

I am an ICU nurse, therefore my standards for and expectations of people are low. For those of you who function outside of my world where everything is "stat" and triage (prioritizing) is a means of survival (for me and those entrusted to my care) not just a mere necessity, I will explain the first sentence. In the simplest of terms...if you are not dead or I am not pounding on your chest to keep you from being dead ...you are golden. Unless of course, you are one of the many unfortunate persons whose family thinks that continuing to live long past the expiration date of ones vital organs (and yes the mind is a vital organ) is an entitlement. For these unfortunate souls, the opposite applies. If you are dead and I am no longer being forced to keep you alive to satisfy some member of your family who has obviously lost one of their vital organs, you are golden. On the other hand, my standards for and expectations of myself are very high. They have to be. If they are not, people, (not the ones in the second category listed above) die.
I am not oblivious to the fact that not every job is quite like mine and that my sense of reality (not to mention my sense of humor, smell and sensibility in general) is somewhat skewed by what I do. However, I am at a loss for understanding why so many people are willing and apparently very much able to let their standards and expectations of their profession of choice go consistently unmet.
I realize that no one will die if I can't get a couch or if I have to make two trips to the tire place to get the holes fixed ( ok... so the tire thing, yeah someone could have died, but they didn't and that's not really my point). But is it really outside normal expectations to think that the people entrusted to get me a couch and fix my tire do so in a timely and effecient manner. By this I mean, less than eighteen months for the couch and fix both holes the first time and not send me off with my two kids on a leaking tire. I won't even mention the personal standards of the guy cutting his nails in the waiting room of Mavis Tire.
I often wonder why the powers that be seem to have such a twisted sense of humor when it comes to my life. The best I have come up with is that it is a big Karma b****slap for my own twisted sensibility.   Yes, this entire rant was all the result of a single 24 hours in the life that is mine.  I am however grateful for the evening that ended it all and apologize to the children who's plans were altered as a result of the chaos that is me...