My step-father died recently.  Unexpected.  The experience has been very difficult for my family.  The emotions evoked through the loss of a loved one are nearly impossible to understand, let alone control as they are expressed.  In an effort to heal, I would like to explore some of the words and emotions that arose during the week I stayed with my family; a most trying time for us all.

Empty.  I cannot speak for my family, but my world seems flat.  Colorless.  Confusing.  Shattered. My life will never be the same.  Altered without my permission.

Grief.  The ache in the belly.  Inability to breath.  Blinking becomes difficult.  Exhaustion.  When grieving, we become motionless and time has a way of standing still.  For some, they revert to expressing joy for relief.  A memorable toast of champaign or a party to send off the soul.  Sometimes the only way back to sanity while grieving is to become insane and to lose it all so as to make way for the new way of being.

Unity.  People united to help each other through the muck and mire of making immediate decisions during such a horrible time.   People coming together for the life of those surviving.  To help heal.  To help live.  Knowing we are not alone enables us to cope.

Trust.  To trust that others are capable of doing for us when perhaps we cannot.  To trust others to care for us when we are at our most vulnerable. To trust that we will be okay without our loved one.  Trusting our Higher Power that all is as it should be.  Trust requires the release of control.

Secrets.  They are private.  The exposure of a secret can be painful and can overshadow the beauty and joy that one contributes to the world when they are alive.  Dusty magazines stuffed under the seat of an old chair, money no one knew about saved in a bank account, a card or letter found that expresses love from someone the survivors never knew. Secrets are private and should be kept so, even after passing ... but it's hard not to look, not to know, not to share.

Anger.  Quick and sudden in expression.  Usually dripping in judgement.  Deep are its cuts.  Making all vulnerable.  Purging and clearing the slate of all that is confining, constricting, too truthful, too hurtful.  Committed under a subconscious effort to move on.

Comfort.  The holding of a hand, a hug, or the look that passes between two knowing souls.  To come together and comfort each other with stories of a person's impact upon this earth are expressions of kindness, of love and bring warmth and light into the cold darkness of loss.

Compassion.  Forgiveness.  For all the moments that weren't stellar, but human.  For all the moments that might not have been great, but were just "good enough."  Understanding that we each have the right to live our lives as we see fit and not according to another's point of view.  Knowing that with time, the greatness of this soul will far outlive its struggles.

Celebration.  Honor.  Joy.  These words go together for me because they were expressed together in regard to my dad.  We celebrated his life and his love.  We gathered together and remembered him in the best of light.  The light of love.

Exhaustion. The mind and heart grow tired and weary of having to feel...to make sense...to be polite...to hug and to hold.  To cope.  To know ... to know about death is exhausting.

Acceptance.   To know there is nothing we can do to change what has happened.

Continuation.  As we all heal from this experience of great loss, we are nudged by the Universe to continue.  To live a little more deeply, with more intention and care.  To value each other a little bit more and to know that the gift of life is but a fleeting one, so we had better make the best of it while we can and hold tight to that which is of most importance to each of us, whatever that may be.

Turning Changing Realizing Accepting Becoming

Recently I had a birthday - sigh -

My father and step mother, my beautiful
sisters and me.

However, it didn't start out with a sigh but a giggle.  Beginning with a 7:00 a.m. wake-up call to breakfast with my friends the Greenbergs.  We met at a delicious little pancake house in the Ranch.  Larry chose the decadent dutch pancake that rises sky high before falling flat, exhausted and ready to be consumed...dressed with an ample sprinkling of powdered sugar; food for the soul.  Yvonne and I also experienced a touch of the naughty, ordering omelets stuffed to capacity with goodies that would make anyone overeat while still taking half home for later snacking.

We greeted each other as if we had met the previous week only it had been months...many months since we had seen each other.  This is the experience great friends have.  Duties, family and careers can pull us apart, but love snaps us back into place, even if it is for brief moments captured here and there in the business and messiness of living life.

Looking beautiful, these two friends of mine, had joy and laughter and sarcasm adorning the air around them. We talked about current family events...updates on everyone.  Talked about business challenges, soulful heartaches and the promises of the future.  My friends.  A successful couple in all ways possible.  Brave, strong and fun.  Two peas in a pod, enhance the promise of love for me.  One can only hope to attain the bond of friendship and love they exhibit between them.

My ma'ma, Whacky Jackie

So this is how I began my day.  My special day.  Well.  The rest of the day was filled with rest, contemplation, walks and text messages from my family and friends.  How lovely.  People don't really do cards any more, and so there was none of that.  Just quiet reflection with a happy heart.

I thought about the challenges of the past year (my birthday occurs in January and so it is my time to review and set goals); what I had learned seemed so small compared to the obstacles that seemed insurmountable at the time.  And, the goals I have set for this new year are just as important...and as overwhelming.


Last year I cleaned my friendship house, so to speak.  I moved past some toxic experiences and friendships with guidance and wisdom through the internet, a counselor and my mother...my wise, and beautiful mother.  Sending friends on their way; separating can be difficult but made easier when you know it is the best for all concerned. Closing the door as if to guard my heart.  But in this process, making room to let the light of new friendships in....I have grown so strong and well, stable.

Making new friends, being more selective has been fun.  More intentional.  Better.  Finding friends who not only match my interests but may also challenge me, and I them.  I have a diverse and interesting group and am grateful for every one of them...albeit,
scattered across the globe.

One of my paintings in progress...

My goals for this next year involve more "art parties" at my home, blog entries, and writing gigs as well as painting gigs.  I have published artwork and also an article last year with the intention of combining my ability to paint with my ability to write.  There will be a new website designed to support these two ambitions.  I would like to interview interesting people.  To share them with the world.  Not the ones who are already "out there" but to share with the reader someone who could be living next door.  Someone who lost their mother at an early age and overcame the thread of abandonment that coursed through her life as she went on to accomplish great things from one country to the next.  I would also like to elevate my style of painting by bringing the element of story telling into the compositions.  My style is rather clean.  "Brought down to the basics," an avid surveyor of my work shared at my art show last year.  I'm rather minimalistic.  I'm finding people want more.  And so I will stretch and grow in this regard.  My first attempt is on the right:

And so I invite you.  Come with me on this journey.  I'm happy you are interested.  It will require living deeply: Getting involved.  Embracing the messy and then making order out of "it."  Seeing Humor in all things.  And then laughing. Being intentional.  Accomplishing joyous achievements.  Sprinkling in a little sarcasm.  Being positive - even when it hurts.  Moving through experiences.  Letting go.  Creating.  Hoping.  Designing.  Searching.  Enlightening........hey!  I've only got 30 or so good years left so, let's get cracking!

A Gesture of Kindness

Holidays can suck big time at the airport.  Socked-in airfields, delayed flights and lots of pushing.

As I ran to catch my connecting flight to Minneapolis from San Francisco, I began to lose breath.  The excitement of the Holidays had mounted and I wanted to do everything in my power to get to my connecting flight before its departure…I was 45 minutes behind schedule…didn’t want to make a mistake and so I ran down the corridor toward gate 72 with my luggage, computer bag and purse. 

As I rounded the corner and arrived at the gate, I was greeted by the most handsome of men. Oh yeah!  There were passengers all around and I had a beautiful man ready, able and absolutely willing to share the great news that our flight had not yet departed.  Catching my breath, I thought this was the greatest of tidings.  My friendly greeter realized I was out of breath and offered me a bottle of water.  I graciously accepted and began to guzzle the refreshment, albeit as delicately as possible.

We were enjoying small talk when I began choking due to the challenge of drinking and talking at the same time.  Ugh, I thought, in front of this most handsome and classy guy, I’m dying before his eyes.  A polite “excuse me” to use the bathrooms and off I went with tears running down my face and the inability to speak because of my situation. 

Upon my return he smiled and told me it was okay – to breath and relax and that all is well.  Calmed and refreshed, I boarded the plane ahead of him.  Instantly I felt relieved and somewhat calmed.  Our seats were a few rows apart…however, I felt connected and confident I would have no further choking (believe me when I say, I was coughing a good ten minutes).  We were going to make it to Minneapolis after all and I would live to see it.  Yay!

It’s so nice to have the Holiday Spirit in our hearts as we make our journeys to reconnect with loved ones over dinners fantastic, memories revisited and stories of promise.  As I look forward each year to this holiday season, I am reminded of the small gestures of kindness that can be so easily given and so gratefully received.

With joy in my heart, and a clear throat, I leap into the next year!  Thanks Mohamed for the refreshing water, peaceful state of being and your kind, beautiful face in the crowd.  In the Spirit of Giving I shall remember your gesture to help a traveler in need, and Merry Christmas!

Love Letter Found

I have been working in a home that has recently changed ownership.  Making things beautiful: plastering a wall to match existing venetian plaster; ensuring there is congruity throughout the bones of the home; tinting metals, chandeliers; waxing built-ins and painting frames of mirrors to look as if they'd been 100 years in a French Chateau.  This has been a huge task but one that I just love, to no end, ensuring the home is ready for my clients - its new owners.


A few days ago, I was sanding the edges of some drawers I had painted a soft creamy white and saw something in the bottom of the cabinet.  I reached in and my fingers grazed the edges of an envelope.  I pulled it out, dusted it off and opened it.  I read the most touching sentiment from a wife to her husband.  The card was a beautiful champagne color with glitter and the foil from a champagne cork with a grosgrain ribbon on threaded on the left side.  Very elegant.  A satiny feel under my fingers as I turned the page; apparent that love was in the choice of this card.

As I read the the promising message, my heart clenched.  You see, the previous owner of the home had been in the middle of a renovation when her husband passed away.  He had been the love of her life and when I had met her, I could feel the weight of her loss and the burden of having to quickly move on with her home and her life.

In my hand was a letter of love and hope for the coming year.  So beautifully written.  So mature in its sentiment.  It must have been in the bottom drawer as a keepsake.  Dated a couple years prior, I imagine it was very special for him to keep it.  I felt fortunate to witness such a love that comes with maturity.

Sitting in the room, with paint up to my elbows, sandpaper on the floor, and dust floating through the air, I wondered about the magic of this moment and what I should do with this special message of promising plans, hope and deep abiding love.  Should I find her address and mail it to her with the message of where I found it - letting her know he had kept it?  Should I leave it in the bottom of the cabinet for the next person to find - maybe fifty to a hundred years from now?  Or should I just make note of it, cherish the moment and toss it in the trash - perhaps saving her from reliving the grief of her loss?  hmmmmm......

What would you do?

Convenience Stores

Convenience Stores.  It's been a long time since I heard those two words....but I've been thinking lately about words and their meanings...about convenience stores and how they have changed over the years.  When I was a young girl, the convenience store in our neighborhood was Brooks.  Down West River Road from our house about 1/2 a mile or so.  A good walk for kids looking to spend their allowance on slow pokes, rocket candy and ice cream bars.  Brooks was the place where most kids tried their hand at steeling for the first time and most were caught and forgiven if the items stolen were returned.  The place where first time cigarette and condom purchases were attempted, as well.  A few ruffians would hang out by the ice machine and smoke, watching girls coming and going.

The convenience store was also the place where one went to gladly part with a few more pennies for the convenience of a loaf of bread or gallon of milk at nine o'clock at night.  Sometimes referred to as the corner store, they all had personality or something that defined them as part of what was known to be your neighborhood.  Our store (sense the ownership?) carried a butcher in the back and we would order the most fabulous hot dogs ever made!   The meat would be ground and cased right there in the shop.  The excitement and the smell (I know...sounds weird but they would add spices I still can smell) would be the pre-empt to our Friday night dinner.  I no longer eat meat but if one of those dogs was in front of me, I would make exception!  :) yum.

Usually, I would feel claustrophobic at Brooks, as I was so small when I was a kid - still am rather short at 4'11".  I would be face-to-face with merchandise, peoples legs usually dodging the occasional careless smoker as their hands would brush by my head with lit cigarettes between their fingers.  A unique ambiance, there was the smell of beer in isle 6 and the smell of chocolate donuts in isle 2 and bleach in isle 4 - all laced with the ever-present smell of tobacco.  The lights buzzed and there were always flies trying to get out of the store by way of the solid glass paned windows.   A place where the men from the neighborhood would make a quick run to the store last for an hour as they groused about this and that with "the old lady" at home or brag about the winning touch-down Johnny who's-it got at last Friday night's game.

As I became a teenager, I found the convenience of running to the store for last minute things a saving grace.  Pads of paper, pens, tampons - usually hidden amongst the pads of paper and pens, and the occasional can of Tab.  It was great having this little store in the neighborhood.

Somehow, we have lost the quaintness of having the cashier know your name and that of your folks. No longer a store owned by a family for two or three generations where you could buy a few groceries on trust until pay day.  Now it's all about coupons and vitamins and drugs.  There really isn't anything personal about our stores today as they are just a place that sucks the money out of our wallets as quickly as possible so that we can be on our way in our busy days.

Do you have a favorite convenience store memory?

Putting myself out there!

Isn't Life Grand?

My life is and always has been charmed by events that come full circle in some way or another.  It's fun to look back and see the threads that weave the most amazing chapters in my life.  Like the time, when I was in radio, and met Robert Hayes when he was touring and promoting the movie "Airplane."  Thirty years later, I meet him at a friends dinner party and learned they went to school together.  :)  Full circle.   Fun.   Insightful.

Well, here's a story that will definitely give you a tingle up your spine:

My father's grandfather was an immigrant from Belgium.  His name was Albert Van Overberghe and at this time, 1914, his residence was in Manhattan.  He was married to my great grandmother Julia who was from Paris...they had met on a ship bound for America.  He found work with Barnum and Bailey Circus as a high wire act and a clown.  Attached are two photos of him at that time....in costume as both the high wire performer and the other as the clown (I think he looks like Jack Nicholson in his clown garb!).

Who would ever think that decades later, on the opposite side of the United States, his great granddaughter, me, would end up working for Mr. Barnum's offspring as an artist painting woodgrain on his study door in his home in Pacific Palisades, CA?   We had a good laugh about it as we connected the dots between our families.

  Here's to you, Great Grandpa Albert!