Words from the Heart

My Brother, Barry and I at Duxbury Beach 1959 The Beach, Parades and Hoodsies A recent visit to my cousin's home created an avalanche of childhood memories.  We laughed ourselves silly, remembering our antics together and with our other cousins.  As I reminisced, later, I realized that there are recurring themes in my memories.  The beach, parades and Hoodsies all hold a prominent place in the slide show of my formative years. The beach was just three blocks from my home growing up.  I swam before I could hardly walk!  Some of my happiest times were playing in the sand at the L Street Bathhouse in South Boston.   The Bathhouse was built thanks to James Michael Curley , Mayor of Boston, back in the day and was divided into three sections - the boys', men's and women's bathhouses. My mother, one of the first women life guards in Boston on a public beach, took us to the "L", as it was fondly called, almost every day in the summer. ...

Every so often, I feel the need to share information on a difficult subject.  As a mother, grandmother and survivor, child abuse is one of those subjects that I refuse to sweep under the rug.   Back in the 70's there was a sign I would see that said, "It shouldn't hurt to be a child." Today's guest, author Chynna Laird is speaking to this directly. After her post, learn about her new book, White Elephants , a memoir of her childhood.  Listen to the Children: How to Know When A Child Is Crying Out    April is an important month for several different awareness campaigns. There are a few that run during this month that are particularly close to my heart. One of them is Child Abuse Prevention.    There are so many movies, television programs, books and media coverage on this issue but, sadly, it still isn’t focused on or understood as much as it should be. Most of this is due to the fact that people tend to focus on what’s obvious...

Image via Wikipedia The last thing I thought I would be writing about today is bullies at school in kindergarten.  But, that was before I read a post by my daughter on how my granddaughter didn't want to go to school for fear someone would make fun of her.  This is not an isolated incident.  She had stopped wearing a shirt because someone started teasing her when she wore it. My mother cat spirit immediately shows her hackles when things like this happen.  It makes me so sad to hear stories of children being abused by their peers.  Immediately, my mind starts looking for a way to end this problem.  Wisdom tells me, though, that we must find a reason why the problem begins in the first place. Great minds in child development feel that bullying stems from insecurity and the need to feel powerful.  I understand this, but why do kindergartners need to feel powerful?  What is it in their environment that causes them to need to hurt others verbally...

Whether you are five or fifty-five, the death of your mother has a profound affect on you. Whether you had a close, intimate relationship with her or had the relationship from hell, when your mother dies, something in your heart/soul cries out, "No!" ~~~~ Momma loved to shock. Just a few months ago, as we were leaving the nursing home after a visit, she patted the male nurse on the bottom as I wheeled her to the elevator. "Momma!" I cried. She giggled and said, "He didn't even turn around!" I looked back at the nurse and he was simply smiling and shaking his head. As the elevator doors began to close, I said, "Behave, OK?" She gave her most mischievous smile and said, "Not if I can help it!" ~~~~ I must have been about three because Barry was an infant and Momma was pregnant with Timmy. It was one of those summer days that happen every once in a while when the air, the temperature and the weather are perfect. Momma took us for a...

Many years ago, when I was raising my four daughters, we lived in a neighborhood that still had woods and ponds and brooks unscathed by the desire to turn every inch of land into mega-mansions and ultra-malls. Most of our neighbors had sons, much to the girls delight and/or dismay depending on what area of maturity they were at in their development. During a time when the boys were yucky, they (the boys) got together to build a tree fort directly across the street from our home at the top of a rise that elevated their view directly into the second story rooms. When the girls spied the boys in the tree fort, they would pull down the shades, squealing with delighted disgust that their privacy was being invaded. The boys would whoop and holler, make gun sounds, jump from the limbs of the tree and run commando style through the woods. During the time that the boys had become cool to be with, the tree house served as a place to meet. From the vantage point of my bedroom window, I could s...