Birthday

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EVERY SUNDAY is a New DAY and YOUR BIRTHDAY

It is Sunday, for many considered a day of rest that may consist of sleeping late into the late morning or early afternoon hours.  Years ago, Sunday was my lazy day, waking up to a new week, brunching or lunching with my husband, running errands in joyous harmony to GOLD CIRCLE™, prior to the TARGET™, days.  We always found a bargain or two while picking up the essentials like toilet paper, napkins, laundry soap as well other fine household items we didn’t need.  As we sauntered through the aisles we knew at the end of this weekly journey we would take our stash home and realize we forgot the most important item of the week, but we never identified what that item was!

Remember Yesterday – Live for Today

Those were the days when we first bought the Sunday newspaper, The Plain Dealer™, and cut out the coupons and checked out what was on sale before we stepped inside the doors of our Sunday retreat.  The newspaper was more golden than the GOLD CIRCLE™.  The Sunday edition was packed full of fun stuff like the comics in living color, and Parade Magazine™ that was sure to have a story of fun-filled information for reading, not scanning.  That paper went to breakfast with us, and we staled out our time as did many weeding through the paper from the front page headlines to the comics, magazines, ads, and flyers.  Great articles appeared in The Plain Dealer™, Jane Scott, Michael Heaton, Connie Schultz, Terry Pluto, and my friend Chuck Yarborough, just to name a few.

“Sunday, Sunday here again in tidy attire
You read the color supplement, the TV guide”

Today, Sunday is just another day, working; as most of us have more than one job in today’s economic debacle.  I feel blessed as I am about to reach the big 69 tomorrow that I am able and capable to be on my feet supporting sales and earning a few extra dollars.  I do this because I have learned through my upbringing that we must continue to venture through life and not only adapt to changes but to change for the betterment without bitterness.  I may have been raised in the 50s and 60s with the voice of encouragement telling me that if I worked hard, I too would have a suburban home, two cars in the garage and much more than just a chicken in the pot.  However, to maintain all that I was encouraged to work hard for comes with a price.


Appreciating Yourself so Others will Too!

I could complain that as I reach this pinnacle in life that I am still scratching and clawing to build a better lifestyle (not necessarily all financial), that will allow me to live fully.  That lifestyle includes working on Saturday and Sunday and meeting new people and supporting their wants and needs providing guidance.  My weekend gig is much like my weekday life with newclevelandradio.net, I work with various individuals, and I am their guide and support in sharing their message, compassion, and life providing us all options on which fork in the road will lead us to Sunday, the first day of the week.


Treat Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday

As the Days to Love Yourself and Wish Yourself

A Happy Birthday

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

Tomorrow
March 4th

 

Happy 24 3/4 Birthdays MOMMA

Another birthday without my mother, D’VASHA, is upon us as she is not here on earth to celebrate.  Being a Leap Year Baby, my mother would be celebrating 24 ¾ years-old or in reality 99!  My mother had a dream to live to be 100 years-old as she wanted to be recognized by the POTUS; although she would not want it to be our current President (and I use that term lightly.)

 

My mother was the first generation born in the United States after her parents immigrated from the hell hole of the POGROM life in Russia.  As the story goes my Baube and Zayde, and various family members ran and hid on several occasions when the Cossacks barged into their Sheitels killing whoever was not fast enough or strong enough to get out of their path.  My mother’s father, my Zayde Friedman, came to the United States by ship riding steerage among hundreds of other looking for a better life.  In the early 1900’s you had to be sponsored to come to America, and he was through cousins who came here before him.  When Zayde came to America, he left behind my Baube Ida and their first born, my Aunt Jean.  He first settled in Boston, Massachusetts and after a short time moved on to Detroit, Michigan where additional relatives helped him establish a life and a career as a tailor.  Once he had enough money saved up, he traveled back to Russia to bring his family home to America.  What he found upon his return was a deserted village, and in time he reunited with his wife Ida and daughter Jean, and a second daughter Ann.  Zayde did not know his beloved Ida was with child when he came to America to prepare a home, can you say surprise?  (Within years they became citizens of the United States.)

It would be many years later on February 29, 1920, that my mother was born she was one of seven children of which only five lived into adulthood, my mother the last one of her family living until October 11, 2016.

I was born on March 4, 1950, and although I would not be a Leap Year Baby, my momma was determined that our birthdays would be shared.  For the majority of my life, we shared one birthday cake, and I became a year older several days before my official birth date.  In recent years I would manage to get up to Detroit to spend our birthday together whether it was a party for her special day, on her 75th, 90th, and 95th imparticular.  At her 95th birthday, my mom gave a little speech, and she reminded us, her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren as well as nieces and nephews that she was in charge because she had earned the right at 95-years-old!  It was on that day she proclaimed she would live to be 100 so she could receive a proclamation from the sitting president, who would have thought?

 

My mother was in excellent health, who would have thought she wouldn’t live to be 100 years old?  And who would have thought that our government would be in such dismal shape as we approach the year, 2020?  My mother was a work of art; she was a kind caring individual; she would think about others before herself, and yet she was not perfect.  If my mother liked you (loved you), you would know it, and she liked most people.  However, if she didn’t like you because you scorned her or her family, she was unforgiving.  She truly was a Grizzly Bear when she felt it was necessary.

 

My mother and I had a very tough but loving relationship.  Most of my life I felt like a disappointment to her, and because of that I often misread her words and actions.  However, I was lucky to learn that I was liked and loved by my momma, we shared her last weeks together expressing our thoughts while the elephant sat in the room and we never mentioned the words that identified death and dying.  For me, there was no need because I knew that my mother would live on in me, my brothers, my children and theirs.  We hold the DNA that provides me the opportunity to hear her voice, see her smile, and even her look of dismay that makes me sit up straight and think, how would momma like me to be today?

 

So today she would be 99 and a year from now that milestone 100.  This morning before Alex left for work he said; we need to celebrate her life next year.  She was our matriarch.  She nursed my dad through years of ill health bouts and never once complained or uttered a disparaging word even when it meant turning their life upside down.  My mother was empowered (and she may not have known it) but it is her strength that has provided me with the capacity to seek life and commemorate the lives of others.

 

Just a side note, I have learned that our current POTUS does not indulge in sending out the 100-year birthday proclamations.  I guess he is too busy trying to build a wall.