DAY OF DESTINY

Dear Kelly, Kim and Mike - Forty years ago - December 5, 1968 - your mother and I met for the very first time! She was 29; I was 38. Seems like quite an age-spread, we know. But with your mother’s charm and serene, ‘other-worldly’ grace (and I might add, her physical beauty!) and my own immature, boy-priest mentality, we were actually close in age.

Since we both were only a few months removed from our past, previously cloistered lives (yes, with Vatican permission), we had few social contacts and even fewer social graces. Tom and Grace decided it would be ‘cute’ to invite us to dinner in their Bayside, Queens apartment. I arrived first. I must confess: as an ex-monk bachelor, I anticipated forking down a free home-cooked meal more than meeting Tom’s sister, Pat Stephens (there were lots of ex-nuns floating around back in the 60’s).

Anyway, Tom walked in the door with this gorgeous young woman! “Who is this ‘dream-thing’", I smiled to myself, "decked out in her gold dress and Jane Fonda boots? Guess Tom’s sister couldn’t make it tonight.” I’ll never forget Tom’s immortal words at that moment: “Chris, this is my sister, Pat!” Man! I went into a mild state of shock - Tom's very own sister, the most beautiful ex-nun I had ever seen! Wow! Then we all sat down to one of Grace’s great dinners and conversed politely the rest of the evening.

I can’t remember what we ate or what we said. I recall only my intense awareness .....of this ‘heavenly presence’ sitting next to me!

“And thus it came to pass"...mom and I were engaged on Valentine’s Day ‘69. Married on a steamy hot August 13th and honeymooned at the Pink Sands in Bermuda. Within 5 short years we were a sprawling, bawling family of five tucked away in the idyllic little village of "Seaford-by-the-Sea", Long Island. Why did all this happen to your mother and me? Luck? Chance? Happenstance? Blind destiny? Or, was it the Providence of a loving God, guiding us to this crossroad in our lives? You know what your mother and I believe. Once again, we’ll be celebrating December 5th at our favorite Delaware restaurant, the“Dome”, out in Hockessin. Another dinner celebration of our life together. The gold dress and Jane Fonda boots are long since gone. But the memory of that first evening dinner together, chez Tom and Grace, is still so strong within us. We have so much to be thankful for…..most especially, for the three of you!

BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAIN CAPER!

Pat and I just returned from our weekend caper.... over in yonder Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. One of our favorite scenic destinations (as you may well remember by the previous blogs we've inflicted......uh, shared ....
with you in times past).

Chris! Watch out for those deer ahead!

Huh? Oh, Pat. That's so sweet...you called me....'dear'!

Passing thru Emmits-

burg, MD, we decided to visit (once again) the Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton (1774-1821) Basilica at the foot of the Catoctin Mts.....no , we didn't stop by to visit their neighbor....Barack at Camp David.

If you remember, Elizabeth Seton was a married society gal from New York (1774-1821), widowed at age 30 with 5 young children to raise alone. After joining the Catholic Church, Elizabeth retired with her children to a donated farm in Emmits

burg, MD. Hard times for her and the kids, esp. the poverty. Soon, however, other dedicated young women joined her in community and founded the Daughters of Charity. From that tiny nucleus, today the Daughters number over 7,000 vowed religious. Master educators in high schools and colleges.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Ann_Seton

Hey, Pike Creek Pat! Let's hike down to yonder valley! It's only about 10 miles! C'mon, girl!

Sure, Chris! You hike. I'll drive the car down. See ya' later!

Hey, ol' man! You've been napping in that front seat for 2 hours. Move it!!

EPILOGUE: Once upon a time, many years ago.....when Kelly, Kim and Mike were working their way thru the throes of typical teenage self-assertion (uh, in-your-face confrontations)... one cold Winter nite I was expounding one of my "pearls of wisdom" at the family dinner table. In the corner of my parental eye, I caught the three of them rolling their eyes while faking gags and coughs over some assertion I had made. "Dear ol' dad" they finally blurted out at me, "your stories are so corny ....so...ugh!...cornball! Enuff already!"

Okay! As fate would have it, years later cyber blogs came along and I had to choose an apt pen name for my novice blog. "Aha, I thought to myself....why not follow up on the kids evaluation of my communication skills! By their own admission, I'm good at corn...I'll be the Cornmeister, master of trite, well-worn corn. Ever since, I've blogged up their email systems with plenty of down-home .....CORN! Retribution? Who? Me?





This is so inspira-

tional. Iconic corn!










CORN! BRING IT ON!

---THE END -- (WHAT ELSE!)

AN EXISTENTIAL MOMENT....

.....DOWN ON THE FARM! What farm! Okay....so it's only a little garden on our condo deck. Pat and I are celebrating the arrival of our very first tomato of the 2009 season. Thanks to Burpee Seeds and the elements. Come, take a look!



Left click pic for full succulent radiance! Then the return arrow to come back to the blog. Go ahead!










Notice the sisters Stephens pic gracing this bucolic setting.












More tomatoes. Just hangin' around.















And more tomatoes. Hey, Joe, keep an eye out for the crate of these red beauties Pat and I are sending for your next sauce jamboree.

The Chef!












We have two humming birds that stop by every hour on the hour to suck up sugar water. Magnificent! Each little guy hovers motionless in space, tiny wings afflutter....dipping his needle nose deep for a heavenly fix. Their names? Herb and Humphrey, of course.

We also have three resident cardinals: the reddest of red, show-off male accompanied by two plain jane female friends. He actually picks up a sunflower seed in his beak and feeds it to the girls....followed by a kiss. His name: "Cardinal Chris"!


Zinnias are our favorites. True to form we have a name for each. This guy is...Zorba!

I forgot to mention we have a titmouse or two with their tufted topnotches. And the golden finches along with their cousins, the purple finches. And a brace of clutsy mourning doves. No wonder we have to stock the feeders with pounds of sunflower seeds and niger thistle.
Hey, it's small price to pay for the entertainment.















This retirement gig is great fun....no such thing as "wasting time" when you're retired.

Live it up! The hell with the sciatica and the hemorrhoids and the....and the....(I forget what else). Bye!

[For now....]

WE KNOW THE SQUIRRELS BY NAME!

One of the reasons... we bought this Birch Pointe Condo back in '96 was the view! From our deck you could take in the whole panoramic view of lovely Pike Creek Valley and its meandering golf course below. Stretching for miles westward toward the Pennsylvania hill country.

Morning coffee on the deck put our day in focus.

That was then....

.....but as the years went on, Mother Nature began to have other plans.

A copse of adolescent trees stood

about 20 feet off our deck. Ever so gradually over the years these leafy

green guys grew to maturity. Higher

and higher until....







.....yes, until Pike Creek Valley

disappear

-ed from view. And a solid green leaf-wall reached to the very heavens. I felt like we were living in a treehouse. We even know all the squirrels by name. Hi, Rusty! Hey, Elmo! Beat it, Benny!
And you should see our other fine feathered friends in their feeding frenzy at the feeders. Cardinals, Gold Finches, Purple Finches, Tufted Titmice and more. We had to run out and buy a bird book, by gosh!

To this day Pat and I still have our tiffs about all this. She prefers her hearty green wall of leaves, the treehouse effect....I prefer my green valley. Now only a memory...ah yes, "How Green Was My Valley"!

A compromise was defintely in order. Of course, the wall of green remained. But we created our own valley, of sorts, with flowering plants, bird feeders and shrubs. All this, deckwise!

Pat dear! Now...don't forget to talk to the plants! And wave to all the pretty butterflies!

Chris...dear. Just drink your coffee and....(censored!)

Hey! Rollo!

Leave the birds

alone!!

Pat. Another coffee

....please.

HEADIN' ON UP TO MANHATTAN

Tuesday of this week.... Pat and I jumped in our ol' RAV4 and this time headed up to Manhattan. This is our third annual pilgrimage back to New York in the merry month of May to celebrate Pat's birthday ....thanks to the loving kindness of Pat's sister, Elizabeth, who owns a "time-share" suite at the Manhattan Club on 56th and 7th Avenue.

This year was special...we celebrated Pat's 70th birthday (yeah...the big 7-OH!)

So classy! The more plebian elevators only go up to the 26th floor. Then, on the 26th Elizabeth led us by the hand over to the penthouse elevators that took us on up into the more rarified atmosphere of the penthouse suites. You know...the ones "up in the clouds"...with marble-encased bathrooms...the suite itself: plush here, plush there, plush everywhere ("so this is how the other half lives!")....and, of course, a "view to kill for!"

All around us! These steel, glass and stone structures reaching up to the heavens! Very uplifting! Very humbling!




















We spent 2 nites and parts of 3 days in "sin city"....livin' it up! Pat and I retired from Long Island 13 years ago. But for this short interlude we were once again.....(accent and all) real Noo-Yawk-uhs!!


The first night, a great dinner over at McGee's Pub. Followed by a "must walk" down to Times Square, a few blocks away. Something new this year! Broadway thru Times Square is now a Pedestrian Walk. No cars! Hundreds of folks were sitting out in the middle of Broadway on folding chairs taking in the sights....like in the town square of "Small Town" USA. Of course, there was a battery of police cars blocking the backs of these brave souls against the onrush of crazy New York traffic!
And, oh, the color! The glitz! The pulsating mass of humanity! The foreign tongues! Pashtun! Urdu! Iroquois! Brooklynese! Almost makes you wonder...could Times Square really be....like....the very epicenter of world civilization! I dunno'!

Next morning we decided to hike (15 blocks!) over to the Hudson down in the 40's to see the newly renovated Intrepid Aircraft Carrier Museum. Past May visits we had toured many of the high-brow museums up by Central Park. The "Intrepid" experience turned out to be great, too! Highly recommended!

Quick stats: commissioned in 1943. 900+' long by 192' (today's nuclear carriers are 1100+') long etc. Fought valiantly in the Pacific, WWII. 3,300 crew. Smashed into by Japanese Kamikaze suicide planes five different occasions. Retrieved Gemini space flight astronauts in the mid 60's. Finally, decomissioned in '74. Now a part of the Intrepid Sea, Air, Space Museum since '82.

Who knows...
maybe Pat could have been a Navy pilot back in '57....but decided to enter the convent instead. Ha!













Never had a chance to fly one of these babies off the Intrepid during the Korean War in '51. I was busy being a monk!










The Concorde is also a part of the Museum. So sleek and futuristic next to the Intrepid along the the Hudson. Paris to New York....4 hours! Of course, it's now grounded and obsolete....a forerunner of future supersonic craft....waiting for a successor.






Uh....Pat and Elizabeth....you can board this beautiful Concorde....but you're not goin' anywhere! No Paris!











Saw the Broadway musical
"Mamma Mia!" Wed. nite! The best musical comedy we've ever had the pleasure to see, hear and stomp to!








After how many years on Broadway....a full house the nite we went. Oh, man! These three dolls could sing....and dance... and prance. The supporting cast was.....like....outta this world, too!


That's about it! Great time! Thank you, Elizabeth!

This afternoon....back to dear ol' buccolic Pike Creek Valley. It's so quiet....so peaceful....so evergreen down here. We're home!

WENDING OUR WAY....

....down the Blue Ridge Mountains.
First stop, Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. So much 19th century history unfolded in this small town where the Shennadoah and Potomac Rivers meet. Occupation of Harpers Ferry by the Union and Confederate Armies seesawed back and forth eight times during the Civil War. And this is where John Brown's ill-fated Slave Rebellion ended tragically in 1859. Six years before Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Brown_(abolitionist)



John Brown (1800-1859), the Abolitionist. Lincoln referred to him as a "misguided maniac" because of his efforts over the years to free the slaves by violent means. Historians agree that Brown's raid in '59 was a major cause of the Southern secession a year later.






Harpers Ferry today. Still has an 1800's "look and feel" about it.











Pat, do we really have to buy more Civil War souvenirs?












Chris, ya' gotta get outta' the car now and then. Do your stretches. Let's take a walk.

Pat, can't we just have lunch?

Any time we're down in this neck o' the woods, we like to visit the Trappist Holy Cross Abbey near Berryville, VA. This stone building, the main part of the Abbey, was originally built as a hunting lodge back in 1784.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trappist

The Abbey chapel open to public. The Trappists are a worldwide contemplative religious order of monks. Formal name: The Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance with a lifestyle based on the Rule of St. Benedict (6th century). A life of prayer, penance, silence...and hard physical labor.

Holy Cross Abbey farmlands grace the west bank of the Shennandoah River just north of Berryville, VA. The Abbey, true to the ancient Benedictine tradition, is for the most part self-sustaining: they raise their own crops and cattle. And before the Christmas Holidays mail order out their renowned, homemade Christmas fruitcakes by the hundreds.

//www.topnotchgiftshop.com/aab1001.html?gclid=CJvN3LDMq5kCFQMnGgodd12jKA

A couple of contemplatives --

Trappist Fr. Thomas Merton and friend...the venerable Dalai Lama (back in the '60's)


Merton is probably the best known American Trappist. His autobiog: The Seven Story Mountain.

Pat! I wanna' join the Trappists and be a monk again!

No, Chris! Forget it! The Trappists aren't going to accept a rickety 78 year old codger like you. They want long-term investments.

Get back in the car -- NOW!!

Yes, dear.

And with that, Pat and I once more....went jauntily wending our way down the fog-shrouded Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. [Sing it again, Stan and Ollie!]