Tag: family

Brooklyn, In Memory Most Green

Brooklyn, In Memory Most Green

history, justice, memoir
The courageous immigrants of the elder generations cast the shards of their hopes and dreams across the landscape of this continent as prophecy. They worked hard and long for their visions. These people included my Lebanese maternal grandparents with their first-born children. They arrived in New York in 1897 on a boat from Syria. They petitioned for citizenship in 1925. Included also was my Turkish father who arrived here alone in 1919. He was just seventeen, eager to make good and to earn dowries for his four older sisters. The distaff side eventually settled in Brooklyn. That's where they were when I was born and that's where I was raised. These were people who came to America in “the days of sail,” as the great New York writer, Irish-American Pete Hamill, would say. Today's
Gratitude for Sam

Gratitude for Sam

Gratitude, mindfulness
I have been able to spend some time with my youngest godson, Sam, this week. I love him dearly just as I love all of my godchildren, nieces, and nephews. Yet, I am so grateful to have one of my kids live in the same area! It's been such a joy to watch him grow, see his artwork, experience him learning to ride a bicycle, and playing with his growing imagination. He's quite a character and his creativity knows no bounds! Sometimes when the weight of the world's evil and suffering overwhelms me, I find hope and joy in Sammy's eyes. These beautiful children of mine give me the motivation to keep striving for a kinder world, a place of acceptance for them all. I am so grateful Sammy is a part of our lives. (I even think Sam is Sherlock's favorite person in the world.) "To me there is no pic...
Gratitude for Grief

Gratitude for Grief

Gratitude
Today's post is hard to write. I've been putting it off. Two years ago I said goodbye to my Mom standing in the front foyer of the house I grew up in. She was crying because she didn't want us to leave. I told her I loved her, kissed her, and hugged her. I cried as I walked away. That was the last time I saw my mother alive. Grief this week has been strong. I miss the way she was always so sure of herself. I miss her determination to enjoy life every moment she could. I miss her telling me she loved me which she did every time she talked to me. I miss sitting the living room and pontificating on life with her. I miss doing projects and events with her (though sometimes this drove me crazy too). I miss how she never knew a stranger, everyone was welcome at her house. She would say, "We w...