982 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 22 Life is Stranger Than Fiction

Simply put:
Grandma and Grandpa served beer
Risa and Sari attended high school and college
My dad, now employed as a brewery truck driver
Delivered cases of beer, all around town
And thus did repealing prohibition, coupled with realism 
Add income to the family coffers, which
Grew ever more solvent, over time

By the time my dad swept my mom off her feet
At the dance where they'd met
Jennie's prince charming
Who'd fallen in love with farming—
Had crossed the ocean twice—
And as this pioneer farmer
Had thought to move forward with the times
My dad found himself fated to
Create safe haven for his family
By trading in liquor
For the rest of his professional life
Suggesting, once again

That as each person's path unfolds
The nature of historic events
Creates unexpected twists and turns
Which often prove stranger than fiction 

And thus, if you work hard

And find that your dreams actually do come true
You prove to be a lucky duck, indeed

Tomorrow, I'll post Aunt Risa's email response to my questions concerning how Grandpa Yacob earned his keep before Grandma Bailey and seven year old Jack joined him in the new world …

After that, we'll take an intimate look at Jennie's childhood to see why my mom had had sound reason to consider my dad—Prince Charming :)

Gosh!  Have you noticed what a circuitous path my think tank is taking while cycling round to my high school days?  I mean think about it:  Our time machine has zigzagged from my gradeschool years in Bully for Me to my pre-teen years in First Kiss, then back to my early childhood in Twinkle Twinkle Little Star before leaping way back on the time line to the early 1900's, suggesting that I've chosen to heal my pain at having lost my parents by diving into their youth insteading of diving into my high school adventures, which will be posted right after my mom and dad marry, because stories, describing highlights of my character development during childhood have already been posted, suggesting that if my subconscious comes up with another stall—we'll need to ask:  What truth must I fear uncovering while diving into the deep end of my mind during my high school years???

981 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 21 Bathtub Brew

During the early 1930's, one of the innocents, who could have gotten into big trouble with the law was Will's quiet, petite, apple-slice-baking Grandma Ivy.  Seriously, where did Grandma Ivy learn to brew bathtub beer?   During the days of her youth in Rumania?  Makes me wonder ... know what I mean?

Have you ever wondered how your gentle-mannered grandma spent her time before silver streaks replaced blond or raven, free flowing tresses?  What if no one's left to ask?  Thank goodness, family stories are passed down, fleshing in surprising details, which would, otherwise, fade into nothingness.

As the story goes:  Once Grandma Ivy had bathed and tucked the youngest of her five kids into bed, brewing bathtub beer is exactly what she did.  In fact, Will's Uncle Denny, quite the mischief maker in his youth, swears that his mother's bottled brew earned him his high school diploma.

You see, every time Denny'd played hooky, which, to hear him tell it, was more often than not, he'd show up for school the next day, carrying a brown paper bag filled with bottled brew, which had been placed discreetly on the desk of his first period teacher, who, otherwise, would have marked Denny's absence, the previous day, using a pen instead of a pencil, suggesting that as long as this educator wet his whistle, all trace of Denny's absences had been erased, pointing to the fact that Peck's bad boy got off scott free, repeatedly :)

Though fearful imaginings cause many to let go of that which we enjoy, time spent reflecting over the past inspires my think tank to come up with simple plans of action, offering me opportunities to enjoy moments of pure joy, which my conscience had decreed impossible until positive focus broadens my scope.  Once positive focus kicks in, common sense suggests that my first thought was not my best thought, and upon second thought, my mind works to separate idealistic impossibility from goals that prove realistically acceptable.  In other words—I don't throw the baby out with the bathwater :)

Once temperance softened and prohibition was repealed, gangsters turned to other endeavors.  Needless to say those endeavors did not interest Grandma Ivy :)

As long as we are not gangsters, who know no boundaries concerning mutual respect—as long as we do not injure others by driving drunk—as long as we do maintain a clear-eyed hold on the line of control, we can create safe haven by reconsidering boundaries with respect for personal space, because, historically speaking, balance in all things makes terrific sense, don't cha think? :)

When it comes to personal choices, some feel the need to stay so close to the nest that self constraint clips our wings (been there, done that).  On the other hand, opening one's mind in hopes of absorbing expansive trains of thought often leads us toward re-evaluating yesterday's self imposed limitations.

Ultimately, while reflecting back with attention to detail, our minds remain grounded in logic as new possibilities arise.  And once brainstorming culminates in realistic change for the better, our spirits have reason to soar as high as the sky :)

Any way you look at it, I've offered you a bird's eye view of experiences, which caused my grandpa, the scholarly idealistic, world traveler and my dad, the little greenhorn who'd loved farming, to evolve, by way of necessity, toward embracing a path, which led both to partake in professions that neither would have thought likely … and if you stop to think about it ... Well, that's life.

So having said that, I wonder if you can guess at Yacob's and Jack's next professional steps forward as these real life adventures of father and son continued to evolve until their separate paths became one and the same?

980 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 20 Will's Fourth PSA Test Results

Sunday  April 6, 2014

So ... after speaking with Will's urologist, we continue to engage in a wait and see mode.  Will's most recent test results show his psa number unchanged, and originally, Dr. B said if that proved true, he'd recommend radiation.  However, today, Dr. B suggested continuing a month by month approach for this reason:  In view of post surgical margins not being clean, the rise in Will's psa was of concern, and though that's still true, upon further consideration, Dr B wants to see if this number remains constant, month after month, because if that's true then this number may prove the new normal for Will.

As chronic urinary and rectal problems may follow in the aftermath of radiation and as this monthly assessment proves non threatening, Dr. B has revised Will's course of action. Since Will has faith in his surgeon's thoroughness, he's agreed to this conservative wait-and-re-evaluate approach. As for me, I'm at ease with whatever these two surgeons have decided and relieved that radiation is not scheduled to begin, next week.

Tomorrow, let's turn to a lighter subject—that being the brewing of bathtub beer …
Your friend,
Annie

979 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 19 Rent-A-Truck

So anyway, we'd left Yacob and Bailey eking out a living, running the deli, their daughters, sleeping in a rented room, attending school, and I've no clue as to Jack's gainful choice of employment when the candyman, the hardworking soul who'd replenished the deli's candy counter, offered my grandparents a suggestion that never would have occurred to either one left on their own:  'So, Yacob, now that prohibition has been repealed, have you thought of serving beer?  Business at the other deli is booming.'

Do Grandpa's eyes open wide?  Does grandma's brow furrow?  I don't know.  What I do know is this:  Both my dad and Aunt Risa had agreed that once their parents had listened astutely to that which the candy man had to say, necessity, being the mother of invention, suggested that adding beer to the menu made sense, because shekels made from serving beer added up much more quickly than soft drinks ordered with pastrami on rye, and life in the back room had become less easy to bear, over time.

As the candy man had serviced many eating establishments, he'd offered knowledgable information to which my grandparents listened openly, suggesting that, in this case, change for the better resulted after three heads, on the same page, proved better than two.

Once the Candyman left
Grandma and grandpa talked
Grandpa rented a truck
Father and son hauled cases of beer from
The brewery into the deli's storeroom where
They'd slept
And the fact that everyone had
Listened to each other openly
Is the primary reason why clarity welcomed
This new found source of income into their midst
And thus did it come to pass that
That which had once been considered forbidden fruit
Came to be seen as mana from heaven
And in this way did brainstorming toward
Change for the better
Offer my family the opportunity to
Create a safe haven
Within a spacious apartment, which came equipped
With reason to exercise, daily, as it was situated
On the third floor :)

Tomorrow, a funny story, concerning Will's grandma, Ivy, before prohibition had been wisely reconsidered and repealed ...

PS
After reading about my dad's lodgings during his youth, I'm sure you can imagine the boundless nature of his joy (which I'd had the pleasure to witness) when my father poured over plans for his dream house.  Once Dad's dream underwent construction, I'd watched his blue eyes beam with pride every time we'd drive out to the suburbs, approach our spacious, corner lot, park the car and stand in front of Dad's creation, which, upon completion, had served as safe haven for Jack's beloved Jennie, Annie, Lauren and Grandma Ella.

Upon reflecting back with an eye attuned to insight into my father's idealistic attitude toward life, stories, rich in history, suggest that Dad's realistic achievement of creating safe haven was a 'tacha machiah'! (which, translated, literally, from Yiddish, suggests 'a small good thing'; however, upon considering the history of one man's life, my father's creation of safe haven had achieved a many wondrous thing :)

Or, in the words of Mother Teresa:
"We can do no great things … only small things with great love."

978 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 18 Transcending time and space …

Though life is transient in nature, the opposite proves true of love, which, in its purest sense, transcends time and space.

The fact that life proves fleeting does not equate with love being as transient as facial expressions, which come and go.

Each time I experience a conscious awareness of the fleeting nature of life, my attachment to certain people, with whom I connect soulfully so deeply as to mean more to me than words can express, heightens exponentially.  And though I may have felt that to be true, intuitively, time spent in reflection offers me a magnified sense of clarification concerning the depth of heartfelt connection which had existed, all along.

Whenever I absorb insight as rich in meaning as that, concerning the transcendent nature of love, my think tank percolates on its own until a safe haven comes to mind where a spiritually uplifting connection feels free to live and breathe, comfortably,  anew.  And much to my surprise, I find that that safe haven has been within reach, all along, waiting to welcome a clear-eyed pair home ...

Actually, I have a feeling that today's musings describe the quality that my son, David, professes to love most about me in that if we peer deeply into my soul, this is what we'll see:  Experience, infused with education, has offered my heart and mind sound reason to grow indivisibly entwined—and having chosen this path where heartfelt emotion and logical reasoning combine, my adoption of speaking and listening skills serves as a source of inner strength, namely:  a mind, flowing with compassion for human vulnerability—be it yours or mine :)

As compassion filters naturally into my thoughts while speaking and listening, I've grown accepting and thus, forgiving of human nature, classic to us all :)

And that's why you can believe me when I say that speaking from a positively focused perspective, common sense suggests recreating a safe haven where trusted soul mates, who'd felt uplifted during the best of times, may re-energize each other's spirits, most especially when life's most trying times lay directly ahead no matter which path each chooses as one's own.

If it's true that the heart proves to be a naturally driven powerhouse of high spirited energy then imagine possibilities for change for the better, which may evolve, once the heads and hearts of two souls, empowered by different aspects of education, feel free to join hands for the betterment of everyone concerned.

So, can we have it all? Well, honestly, that's not true of one living soul; however, once positive focus emerges in full bloom, we, who subscribe to self control within reason, can enjoy a walk through the park, every once in a while, and what, I ask, could feel more uplifting than reflecting over a thought as joyful as that?

Somehow, my foggy state of mind is clearing, suggesting that the Candyman may take center stage, tomorow :) 

977 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 17 Musings

Well, evidently, it's emptied out and is in need of replenishment:  My energy tank.  I've been expecting this.  Running on fumes.

My last drop of creative energy, at least for this morning, was spent placing anxiety on the back burner while offering Will a positively focused smile, before and after kissing him goodbye as he was leaving to take his fourth psa test, which will determine whether radiation is in order or, hopefully, we can breathe easy for a while.  This year, spent flying back and forth between Mom's need of me coupled with the same proving true of Will, has culminated in my inability to release pent up grief, stored deep inside my mind.  Though writing stories about my parents, who are, once again, reunited, has offered me a measure of peace, many months of coiled stress combined with an immeasurable sense of loss are manifesting a fogginess of mind, suggesting it may be best to offer my think tank a rest by not writing much more, today, than an expressive paragraph or two.

Recently, my son, David, had reason to hug me while rolling his eyes at what he sees as my addiction to hopeful idealism.  After we'd taken comfort in our hug, my son shook his head and smiled while admitting that of all my traits, this strong sense of idealistic hopefulness is the one he loves best.  In answer to David's perception of me, I swiped away at tears, smiled at my son and offered this response:  It's true that I'd lived most of my life as a hopeful idealist; however, experience has altered that trait in this way:  Experience has reshaped me into a positively focused, optimistic realist—and you can be sure that that change for the better has takes tons of work in that I'm forever questing toward insight in the still of the night, most especially during dark times, when the best side of me needs to give the rest of me a good talking to, because my spirit needs shoring up.

Later, this insight came to me:  Resultant of engaging in nocturnal pep talks with myself, frustration releases in such a healthy manner that, upon falling back to sleep and then re-awakening, the rocks in my path seem to roll off my back.  So rather than forcing my spirit to tote a heavy weight behind a brave smile, I walk forward on a path, paved with common sense, until a simple plan emerges from my mind, and suddenly, that which had seemed impossible proves absolutely doable.

Each time this peaceful sense of clarity is mine, I find that, lo and behold, the safe haven, awaiting discovery, has been in front of me, all the while, and with thoughts of possibility filling my mind, I go about my day wearing a spirited smile, reflecting self trust, as seen emanating, naturally, from the sparkle in my eyes.

And as I've just injected my mind with clarity into personal strengths in need of a rest, I'm about to hang a gone fishing sign on my brain while offering whomsoever I may meet throughout the day a warm spirited smile, floating on a white cloud of serenity, starting right now :)

Hopefully, my spirit's pitcher will feel replenished, eager to lean toward pouring free flowing insight into story telling, tomorrow.
Your friend,
Annie

976 THE LOOK OF LOVE Part 16 The Candyman is Held In a State of Suspended Animation

Something has come up
A young mother, a good friend who is expecting her third child
Has called with need to meet
And as meeting the needs of young parents meets my needs, as well
I'm off, suggesting no time to write
So, once again, I leave you with this choice:
Check into insights, which I added to post 975
While engaged in the editing process, this morning, before
Answering the phone and finding my plans in need of
Changing in hopes of doing my best to encourage my friend to
Create a new mindset, concerning 'change for the better' while
Her rambuncsious little guys are in preschool …
And as it's Tuesday, which highlights date night beginning
In the late afternoon with Will …
Thus must The Candyman hang in a state of suspended animation
Until you and I greet each other with smiles, tomorrow …