Darby Girl's Perspective

Deep into the holiday season. Dog walk at 9 AM and here comes Santa Claus on the firetruck . One of his elves tossed Rikki a bone. Good start to the day. Then on the road and a leisurely breakfast at Two Birds Cafe where we had a scone for dessert (can you have dessert after breakfast). Beautiful December weather, clear, sunny, crisp but not freezing and I am glad we waited until today to visit the cemetery . We always fuss over who gets what wreath and the condition of the gravestones and how it’s weird that both our families ended up in the same cemetery neighborhood without trying. It is our tradition. One of our Christmas customs. This is the 20th year we’ve been doing it together. I mention that we are growing old together too, as I lean on the car and supervise Caesar Caramanico pushing the wreaths into the ground. And I am grateful. For having lived and loved and been present for all of it.  

M y Dad and I bickered over everything. The price of gas, which way to drive somewhere, the best way to cook something, clean something and big important things too. Politics, abortion, racism, women’s rights, religion. We spent a full two weeks arguing over where you go when you die. He said “in the hole” and I disagreed.  He was a contrarian. Whatever opinion he had today, he might argue as heartily two days later for the OTHER SIDE. His education was limited, his intelligence was vast. He consumed knowledge (read two newspapers every day from front to back) like it was wine, which he consumed an awful lot of too.  He protected the underdog, animals, little kids and old people. Not in a nice fatherly way, but in a way that empowered people to try to do better themselves.  He was difficult but open minded. You could change his mind if you had the strength and will to prove him wrong. And I did. It was exhausting but it also prepared me for the challenges in life that I n...

I did my radiography training at Crozer-Chester Medical Center 1980-82. As a first year student, every few weeks we were assigned to the burn unit where, every morning, we'd accompany one of the senior techs to do portable chest x-rays. The machine was a monster to push through the halls, the cassettes were heavy, we had to prep by scrubbing in and donning gowns and gloves. It was a laborious process and I worried about getting everything right because it was much worse for our patient.   During a really tough week, working with a no nonsense, very experienced tech who expected nothing but perfection, we came upon a badly burned younger patient who was in great pain. It was Friday, my last day on this rotation and the tech had barely spoken to me all week. We worked as quickly and carefully as possible but the ordeal was very difficult. We finished up and I pushed the cumbersome machine alone onto the elevator while she waited giving me a look of exasperation. Instead of pushing gr...

It is my birthday. It is nearly Thanksgiving. The two celebrations dance around one another each year, occasionally landing on the same day. That is appropriate. Being born. Being present another year. Even the tough years, I am grateful for the experience of being alive. Born and reborn again as time changes some things, but not everything. At least not at once.   So, on the anniversary of my birth, I wish to thank the people who make this fragile but resilient thing, we call life, a happy one for me. For the gifts they give me each day of the year. Thank you to my children, Ali & Mark, who have grown into adults who rescue kittens, help old people, say hello to everyone and are optimistic about the future. You give me hope. Thank you to my partner, Caesar, who walks alongside me even when I am literally and figuratively tripping over myself. I can’t think of a more patient person willing to consider my “brilliant ideas” nor a more adventurous companion to m...

I was in the basement storeroom tonight, looking for something that I never found. Instead, I came across this, the eulogy I wrote and presented at Mark's funeral in May 2000. Maybe he wanted to remind me and you and all of us one more time.  Mark was an optimist. When we were just married and our basement flooded with two feet of water, he joked that we had the first row house with an indoor pool. Then he rolled up his sleeves and cleaned the place up. Mark was a man you could count on to get the job done and who found pleasure in the doing. In turn, those around him found themselves laughing too. His good humor was infectious. Mark was gentle. I think Mark plucked his gentleness form nature itself. I would watch him in the last light of a long, summer day standing by the lake at our campsite. Fishing pole in hand. He'd throw his head back, scan the cloudless sky and sigh. His peaceful moment broken by the shouts of Ali and Mark who caught yet another sunny and Big Ma...

  The story of Smokey begins with Fellini, half a year even before Smokey was born. After school on a spring day a couple of middle school kids came down our street with a box of kittens. “Free kittens!” Ali said breathlessly as she came inside, with the emphasis on “free”. Her Dad looked at her and replied “you’d have to PAY ME to have another cat in the house”. Even before she could argue, Little Mark was behind her, kitten in hand. “Look, Daddy,” Ali was taking the sweet path, “look how cute. You can’t not want to have him”.   Ali is batting her eyes at her father, smiling warmly as she presents the striped tabby kitten to him. I am watching, hoping even, that she can talk him into it when the tiny cat hisses at Big Mark and tries to bat at his face. Mark jumps in, “Dad, he is really little. You scared him. He is a nice kitten.” Big Mark is not convinced, not interested and not even willing to consider adopting the kitten into our home. “Out” He points to the door. T...

I am not sure where to begin with this story because what I want to share is a feeling that can be expressed through a particular memory but I am afraid that even that won't sufficiently convey the emotion. It is 1984 and my husband and I have just celebrated our one year wedding anniversary. We are proud homeowners of a rowhouse in Colwyn, Pennsylvania. An end of the row, with a small side yard where we hold big parties. We meticulously remodel, redecorate and clean and shine our little castle. It is Wednesday and it is sunny and warm and a perfect Spring day. It is June 6th and the concrete is being delivered at Noon. I just started a new job but when I heard who my Dad lined up to help him with the concrete I decided to take the day off to be there to help. In case. My father arrived at dawn and while waiting for the sun to fully rise he stood in the garage cutting wood for the concrete form. My husband hurries off to work, worried now that Dad's help may not arr...