Focused at Fifty

Happy New Year! So once again as this year draws to a close we are being bombarded with of the "end of the year" lists and reviews. I guess this one is especially poignant as it is also the end of the decade. The news outlets are each doing a reflection and review of the 2010s. I will not bore you with the specific ups and downs of my life. If you read my blog or follow me on social media, you pretty much get the gist of how my year has gone. I do want to tell you that through the year's disappointments and heartaches, laughter and fun times, I have survived and I've come out stronger that I was before, albeit a bit grayer too! I recommend therapy if you want to rip yourself down to the core and build yourself back up. 😛  It's extremely insightful in figuring out why you tick. But it was also an extremely emotionally exhausting journey which I am still on. I've never felt more aware of my existence as well as my reasons for making certain

"MAX, the snuggle-bug" Certain mornings I feel weary from the world, Just laying in bed with just enough energy to gaze outside. Birds are chirping, even on this cold early winter morning. The sun dapples so brightly through the remaining pin oak leaves. Those leaves,  although crinkly and brown, remain ever so steadfast holding on for life. To my right I feel the soft warm body of my lovable snugglebug of a tom-cat Max. I smile as I nudge him; he purrs in response, stretching out a paw towards my hand, then a cold little nose to my palm. Perhaps I will stay in bed just a little bit longer, another 5 minutes, another 30, another hour. I drift in and out of sleep. Max’s purrs now become light snores. The weight of my comforter envelopes me, cocoons me in safety. So warm and so safe. Evergreen branches scratch at the window, beckoning me to finally rise. In a few minutes I say to myself, in a couple, maybe in awhile. Fow now, the pea

"Gossip - At every Sip a Reputation Dies" ***Blogger's note:  I did not write this but wanted to share as it is an important reminder on the dangers of gossiping! "My Name is Gossip" (author unknown) My name is Gossip. I have no respect for justice. I maim without killing. I break hearts and ruin lives. I am cunning and malicious and gather strength with age. The more I am quoted, the more I am believed. My victims are helpless. They cannot protect themselves against me because I have no name and no face. To track me down is impossible. The harder you try, the more elusive I become. I am nobody's friend. Once I tarnish a reputation, it is never the same. I topple governments and wreck marriages. I ruin careers and cause sleepless nights, heartaches, and indigestion. I make innocent people cry into their pillows. Even my name hisses. I am called Gossip. I makes headlines and headaches. Before you repeat a story, ask yourself: Is it tr

Marc & the Big Ragu, World's End  This Fall has once again shown me that I have much to be thankful for. I am blessed with close friends and family, a solid career, a warm home, my new lil SUV, the Blueberry, two loving pets, the awesome force in my life known as the Big Ragu, and my health! I will attempt to curb my minor complaining. I have gained some weight as of late so if you hear me complaining, feel free to shove a beer or a snack into my face to shut me up. I have had some dissappointments this past year but I have learned from them. After cabin hunting across New England this Fall, the Big Ragu and I did not find our dream cabin/retirement home yet but that's ok. I am blessed enough to be able to be even thinking about getting a second home. That's pretty lucky so I shouldn't complain.  My heart grows heavy thinking about those that aren't even sure where their next night may be. I have no doubt that our vacation home is out there, we ju

"Sunflowers for Cynthia"   My good friend is nearing the end of her life. When it comes time to begin thinking of saying goodbye to a close friend or family member there are so many thoughts and emotions that one goes through. My mind races from the past to the present and back again. I have been through it before, but each time it is just as emotional and difficult, but as it should be. It should not be easy to say goodbye. It’s not meant to be. For some of us, the good bye will have to be from afar. We are unable to get the time off. Unfortunately more often than not, our employers do not give us off for the bereavement of friends, even if that person has been more like family than one’s own family. Others cannot handle the visual repercussions of illness, accident or trauma. They cannot bear to see their friends or family member in such a state. And that is OK, there is nothing wrong with that. We are all different and should not be made to feel guilty

"Dad and Me 💓" The following blog was written during my visit in August to see my 88 year old father. He just had heart surgery to fix a flap and was doing remarkably well. He was kept overnight and released the next day. I arrived the following day to Arcata, CA to begin a long weekend of serious father/son time. No activities were firmly planned. Maybe an idea here and there but nothing set. My main goal was to visit with my father and connect on a deep level. I am lucky that what I had wanted was achieved back to me ten-fold. Some of the following is written in present tense prose. I sit quietly as my father sits in the corner of his bedroom on a rush seated ladder back chair; he is deeply involved in a book he wants to discuss with me. It is one of the major books by the esteemed author, wood block artist, Lynd Ward, who also happens to be my Dad's father-in-law. A compilation of Lynd Ward's incredible works. With each movement, the wooden chair creaks e

It was Winston Churchill who so eloquently stated, “If you are going through hell, keep going.” We all have them, those emotional rough patches. They can be triggered by family, relationships, friends, work, physical issues, or finances. I’m sure you can come up with other triggers as well. It’s those times in life which become so overwhelming you are at a loss of what to do. I recently hit a rough patch which effected many areas of my life including work and friends. My rough patch was triggered by these two subjects. And so goes the merry-go-round of emotions, each making the other worse by exacerbating my existing issues. As I stare out of my 3 rd floor office window (and yes, I write over my lunch while at work), I gaze out at beyond the Allentown skyline at the Blue Mountain range stretching from as far West as I can see to as far East as I can see.  What is beyond that view? I cannot see it but I know it is there. For me right here right now, it is hidden from

"My Commuting Buddy"  I was commuting the other day on Route 78 by Lehigh Street in Allentown and passed an senior citizen driving along in his little colorful car. He looked to be in his upper 70's early 80s and was still working. How do I know? Because he was driving a colorful little auto parts store, bright green, yellow with writing in orange. My commuting buddy looked exactly like that cartoon character old man in the movie where his house was lifted up by a huge mass of balloons. EXACTLY like him. Rather comical. Anyway, I passed the old guy and smiled. He was focused so intently on driving. Good for him! The next week, perhaps Monday after work, I stopped at the Wawa on Lehigh Street for gas and who pulled up to the pump behind me was the my favorite colorful senior citizen commuter! I looked over and nodded to him. He nodded back in greeting. A couple days later, I was driving on Martin Luther King Dr, crossing Oxford Drive and my little old friend passed

"Burden"  I feel crushed as the weight of this world pins me down. It rests fully upon me, Upon my body and my tired soul. I stare up at the wispy clouds overhead, my breath labored. The clouds are floating freely, so light, Changing their shape ever so slowly, So angelic, filled with colors unseen. Why can't I change my shape, my attitude, my mindset As these clouds do along their journey? Sometimes I don't know, how will I continue. Whether it's the burden of past decisions which forces me down Or the burden of past ways which have hurt others. My cross to bear, my rock to push up the hill, My Earth resting so precariously on my shoulders. A hand reaches downward from the Heavens, lifts me up. My guardian angel caresses my face, wiping away that salty tear. I am here to help, to give you strength. My son! We all bear those crosses, of different shapes and sizes. You are not the young man of your twenties. You are not the naive fool wa

I climb the mountain until my hands are scraped, bloodied. I wander through the forest until I find a clearing, weary from exhaustion. I get swept out to the dark sea by oppressive waves, My arms outstretched towards the fading light as I sink deeper in the abyss. Do you see how I've grown? Do you see I've suffered along the way? I am afraid of not when the sun sets but when the dawn breaks. The new morning's light may bring me that fearful clarity Which could ultimately destroy our fortress. I wonder when calm will come to the thunder raging inside. My soul yearns for comfort, for serenity, but at what cost ... Thunderclaps shatter the glass around me Piercing me to my core, my shield not yet strong enough. I fear these torrential rains mean the sun won't shine And if I have to, I will sit in these rains alone, waiting for them to end. I will wait for that light to warm my soul once again, That summer light which warms me deep inside. The light wil

"The Break-up" Blogger's note: Names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals mentioned. Why is it that when a couple breaks up, more often that not mutual friends and family become relationship collateral damage? Obviously, it is in our very nature to side with those we are closest with. This rarely talked about part of the breaking up affects the closest friends and family members. Unfortunately this part of it seems to be a constant and very difficult to overcome. When a break-up occurs, who do you go with?  We as friends and family also suffer. One strives to remain neutral but it can get very awkward dancing the dance between the former couple. It just may not be possible to remain friends with both. You subtly realize who your allegiance is to and to whom your loyalty lies. One tries to remain Switzerland but sometimes it just is not possible. And then suddenly you find that you've chosen or have to choose. If you are striving to remai

"Farmer's Market, Londonderry, Vermont"  Recently I was walking through an outside city market, enjoying all the sights, sounds and smells of food before me. I love the cacophony and energy of it all. People bustling about, each on their own mission to get what they need. Others simply browsing.  There were individuals like myself just observing and people watching. And the hardworking vendors, all trying to make an honest days work. Vendors of fruit, vegetables, meats, cheese, coffee, bourbon, beer, and food stalls all co-existing as separate businesses and yet depending on each other for support. There were so many people. Market days are always so packed, it doesn't matter what city. It could be Philly or DC, could be LA, could be New York!  I was turning a corner and passed someone who I instantly thought was my recently departed friend Chris. He just passed away in November. Ironically, Chris had been in my thoughts lately. My heart sunk and I stopped

"Max at Night" Last night around 3 am, I was awoken by a rustling beneath my window. Now I love the Spring as I can now sleep with my windows open but that also invites those outside nighttime sounds in. Whatever it was, it was clicking and scratching beneath the white rhododendron bush. I looked outside, seeing nothing but fog consuming the houses down my street. More digging and clicking which prompted Max the Cat to leap from his cat bed to my bed to the window sill in two large bounds. Max responded by chittering away. All I heard was chittering and clicking for the next couple minutes. I eventually fell asleep again. Time passed, it may have been a couple minutes, or maybe an hour. I stirred awake and noticed Max still sitting on the windowsill staring outside. I whispered to him, knowing he wouldn’t listen, Come to bed Max, stop being such a night owl. He glanced in my direction, acknowledging me, and then went back to his pensive stare out the window.

"Mom & the Flamingo, Reunited" I dreamt of Mom last night. I dreamt she had never died but was in a coma for the last 10 plus years. She was still alive, lying peacefully in a fugue slumber in some 50s rancher out in the Midwest. It was decorated in pastels. Outside of Florida, she'd hate this color scheme I thought, surveying the decor. Where were the antiques? Where were the dark woods, colonial blue and grey colors? I then wondered, Why didn't anyone tell us she was here? She had her ageless beauty and I smiled. Her makeup perfect, wearing her favorite gold, I knelt down and kissed her forehead. She then awoke from her decades slumber and smiled back at me. "Hello Marco," she stated in a gravely voice. In a timeless whisper and dream-like haze I was off, searching for the perfect gift to welcome her back to the living. From what must've been her Key West life and influences, I had it driven into my mind that I must find her a flamingo

Writing project essay: Her name was Kim H. She was a black haired beauty with dark eyes. Loud and brash, perpetually tanned with a toned body to match. She had the same last name as he. She and M worked together for those many years at Houlihans and they developed a close friendship and bond. They had close deep talks, often fueled by alcohol and drugs. She was definitely manic, possible manic-depressive, although M never saw that side. But she had a temper like hellhound. And that's when M knew to back off! They could've been an obvious couple, should've been, except for one glaring fact known to most which was often laughed about. No matter though, as they'd still often introduce themselves as Mr. and Mrs. H, even fooling old college friends visiting Philly! And then Kim H. died suddenly. She died of a drug overdose. It was a horrible crushingly difficult experience which foreshadowed the beginning of many death's of M's friends during his 20

Got to Sheryl's in Philly for her annual Passover Seder. She lives up by the Art Museum. Relaxing out on the porch doing paperwork, watching the world go by. I was just thinking how much my Mom just loved this porch & used to so the same thing when she would visit. It was her favorite spot. Being a city girl herself, Mom practically grew up on her front stoop! 😊👍

It took him years to realize that even with his tumultuous relationship with X, way back into the 90s, there were good aspects to it other than the old ratty teddy bear staring back at him on his grandmother’s rocker. For a couple years following the break-up there was a sense of bitterness and lost dreams which lingered. But now, as he brushed some dust off of the bear’s soft furry head, he smiled slightly. There were good memories there. They just needed to be given time to rise to the surface after being buried underneath the emotional scars. No, there wouldn’t be any reunion with X, but just a silent private acknowledgement that there were once good times and they deserved to be recognized. Wouldn’t life be so grand if we could get through all the pain in the blink of an eye? But unfortunately, he thought, that’s not how it works. You have to go through the pain. It toughens you, thickens your skin and hopefully drives you forward. And only after that, sometimes in the su

My window is open this breezy Spring night. Something is ever so lightly dinging in the far off distance. It's not the bamboo chimes by the willow tree. It's not loud, not annoyingly so, but just enough to be mesmerizing, like a light gong far enough away where it doesn't bother me, but close enough to be soothing. I'm intrigued but sleepy enough to let it hauntingly lull me to sleep. It gives me peace.

"Perfectly Imperfect"  I did so much work this weekend I injured myself. Nothing major. Just a pull somewhere. Ha-ha. I recuperated with a well deserved voddy and tonic with plenty of those limeys. YUM. Well worth my effort. As I sit here writing this on a late Sunday evening, the evening dew is wafting into the den, aka computer room aka library. OR... whatever the Big Ragu and I wish to call it that day. The air is so dewy, fragrant. I am just memorized by it's scent, along with the light clinkling of the bamboo chimes. It's blowing in and I'm just drinking up the scent. So relaxing. I smell hyacinths and am drawn to wander outside about the yard, late dark at night, following the heavenly scent where ever it draws me. It's so rich, fragrant, and makes me drunk with Spring. I picked some flowers this evening. I just had too. The Big Ragu said no, just let them be. I get his  reasoning. He was worried I'd pick the ones we view from the kitchen

"Lobster Mac & Cheese" My Mom truly had the best Mac & Cheese recipe. But then again, as her son, I am completely and unabashedly biased. I often make it as it truly reminds me of her in my kitchen. Such good family memories over food. How many of us have said that thought? LOL "My Mom's is the best!" It's all good. I won't argue with ya! Below is the link for my Mom's Mac n Cheese recipe. Hope ya try it. Lemme know how your family recipe differs! :) https://frazzledatforty.blogspot.com/2014/03/moms-mac-n-cheese.html Ingredients!  For Christmas this past year, I wanted to make something homestyle but incredibly rich and decadent! I was tired of turkey and ham. I wasn't really into making a goose. Wouldn't know where to start. Have had Cornish game hens, had duck the previous year thanks to big sis Sheryl! YUM!!!! I had my heart set on lobster macaroni and cheese!!! The Big Ragu had bought a good couple pounds PLUS o

"Dad, bro Adam and sis Sheryl" When I was a young child, I would often, as children do, ask my Father "Why?" This would happen over and over again. With the utmost patience, he would do his best to answer my questions and in turn, pose questions back to me to inspire thought and conversation with my budding mind. He would take his time with me with these quiet meaningful conversations. He took the time to explain things to me. This continued into adulthood. Our conversations became and to this day, are more philosophical. They show the wisdom of his age and the growing wisdom of mine. But they are still along the same lines of patience, quiet civility, but now also include possibly differing opinions but with the understanding and respect that comes with age and maturity. There is a song called "Pushy" by an electronic soulful group called Lemon Jelly. The truly British colloquial conversation in the song is from the 50s and takes place between

"PA Grand Canyon" During my childhood in Wenonah, New Jersey, I found that South Jersey was quite flat. As a family in the 70s and 80s, we would drive to the Jersey shore towards Ocean City or Strathmere. Dad and Mom preferred driving the back roads, winding our way down through corn fields and tomato fields, then through cranberry bogs. Or we would drive through miles and miles of Pine Barrens. Not a hill in sight, just miles of flat fields or, with the Pine Barrens, miles of forests. That's what I grew up with and that's what I knew. The trip to the shore only broken that up in terms of marshes and wetlands. Still flat, but just a different terrain. When I was a young child of six or seven, my father brought me to the home of his dear friend Dr. Rachel DuBois, an esteemed author and educator, for a summer visit. She was diminutive in stature but enormous in terms of wisdom. Dr. DuBois also happened to live on one of the highest hills in South Jersey. We drov