Finding joy in the season

I have survived another term as "Princess" of the Portsmouth Holiday Parade with a minimum of problems and a maximum of gratitude that my desire to add a food drive benefiting three local food pantries yielded approximately 5,000 pounds of non-perishable goods for their shelves.

Students from the local high school volunteered to push grocery carts lent by Hannaford along the 1.5-mile parade route to collect the food and transfer it into trucks in the parade and along the roadway on a night that was mild for our December and also magical because it was the largest illuminated parade I've coordinated to date. The more than 1,000 people IN the parade also contributed food in large numbers.

There was great joy in knowing so many people recognized this great need in our community and responded. One pantry has seen a 78% jump in clientele from last year. Not only are the homeless and unemployed seeking assistance, but also the underemployed and seniors whose budgets are stretched beyond their limits. Times are tough everywhere.

I urge you to consider helping your local food pantry help others. You might be surprised to know your donations may help your pocketbook, as well. In NH, for example, towns are required by law to provide assistance to the poor. If non-profit pantries supported by food donations from generous citizens and businesses are available, local Welfare Departments refer clients to them. This often reduces the amount the town must raise in local property taxes to pay for feeding the impoverished. Your donations help everyone.

More joy
I also cannot adequately express the joy and hope I felt on Thanksgiving day as I watched my brother slowly walk up the driveway just 2 ½ months after being paralyzed from the chest down in a horrific tragedy that killed his wife, my beloved sister-in-law.

Although we continue to grieve the loss of Jennifer, and the first holiday without her was as difficult as you might expect, we were able to celebrate how much progress Mike has made from his compression chord injury.

His gait remains somewhat unsteady and he would be unable to use his hands to break a fall, but he can walk and climb some stairs! He no longer has to wear a neck collar and he can feed himself and perform many other tasks again, thanks to hours of physical and occupational therapy. And he is back at work. He cannot drive or be alone in case he falls, but he has advanced more quickly and much further than we could have dreamed after the accident.

To everyone's great delight, Mike continued his tradition of organizing a hike up a 4,000-foot mountain the day after Thanksgiving. Although he could not make the climb, he accompanied the group to breakfast and to the base of the mountain, where he impatiently awaited their descent through snowy terrain. (This is a photo from a pre-accident hike.)

When I walked into the after-party slideshow held in the large room that has become his bedroom while he recuperates, he and his children were surrounded by about 40 friends and family.

Next to Mike was someone I did not know but I instantly recognized his name as the man who first came upon my severely injured brother and sister-in-law, stayed with them until medical help arrived and used my brother's cell phone to alert me and other members of the family to the terrible accident. He also took custody of their gear and later visited Mike in the hospital.

After only a brief conversation, it was clear this man and my brother shared in common even before their random encounter. Now they also share an undeniably unique bond that I hope will provide both of them -- and our family -- much joy and comfort in the years to come.

And as this holiday season begins, I wish you and yours great joy and comfort, as well.

Unfathomable Loss

More than once, my sister and I told the woman who married our brother that we got the best end of the deal. And for 33 years, we were reminded how fortunate we all were that she chose him and became part of our lives, too.

We spent nearly every Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving together. We celebrated births and birthdays, First Communions and Confirmations, graduations and anniversaries, and showers and weddings (including my niece Kate's a year ago Saturday). And while there also were sad times shared over those three decades, we are blessed that so many of our interactions involved joyful occasions.

Neither my sister Judy nor I can recall even a single instance when our beloved sister-in-law said anything negative about another person. Jennifer Remick was a woman who personified grace and compassion in everything she did. Tall and thin, she was almost regal as she moved through life with a dignity I admired. Kind and thoughtful, she also was a woman of strong convictions that did not waver.

Jennifer possessed a delightful sense of humor and when I recall the occasions when she giggled so much that she could barely speak, I cannot help but smile. I also will never forget the Thanksgiving we played a truth vs. lies game and were all shocked to learn that the movie character she most would like to be was “Lara Craft, Tomb Raider,” partially because of the great outfits but mostly because of her adventures.

Jessica, Jen, Kate and Amy

Known alternately as Jennifer, Jen and sometimes Jenny, she loved flowers and her gardening skills were almost intimidating. She enjoyed long walks, and admired good books, music, movies, theater and art. And she adored her four children -- Jessica, Ben, Kate and Amy; the people they loved; her two beautiful grandchildren; and her large extended family. She had many close friends and was a woman of great faith. And she and Mike were truly partners in business and in life.

It still seems inconceivable that such a life could end at the age of 55 as a result of a bicycle ride on a paved path in a beautiful setting on a gorgeous September day just a week ago today.

Riding down a steep hill, she braked for an unknown reason and flew over the handlebars, suffering a traumatic brain injury and then a stroke. My brother swerved to avoid her and also went over the handlebars, resulting in a central chord syndrome injury that initially left him paralyzed at her feet. We don’t know how long they lay on that path, Jen unconscious and Mike crying out to her and unable to reach her, before they were found.

As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he was able to tell the stranger who found them where to find his cell phone and wallet. He stayed with them until she was airlifted to Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center and Mike was transported to a local hospital before also being airlifted there.

We joined other family members in rushing the two hours north but it was too late for Jen. The next day she was declared brain-dead and because she was an organ donor, her final gift will help many others.

I was privileged to be present when three members of the organ removal team visited my brother's hospital room afterward to thank him and the family for her lungs, kidneys, liver and skin tissue. They were so sensitive and compassionate, and wanted to see her photo to know more about Jen. They told us how they have a moment of silence in the operating room before surgery begins, how she was treated with love and respect, and how much of a contribution she and the family had made to others. In a few weeks, we will be advised where the organs went and if the transplants were successful.

So if you have not made the decision on whether to be an organ donor, please, please consider this. Although my brother faces an extremely long road ahead in recovering the use of his limbs, and he and his children continue to struggle to mend their hearts, knowing how much Jennifer’s life will continue to help others offers a bit of hope and much solace even in our great grief.

To learn more about becoming an organ donor, visit www.organdonor.gov

Spidey Sense

"Spidey sense: Derived from the "Spidey sense" of the comic book superhero Spiderman, it is generally used to mean a vague but strong sense of something being wrong, dangerous, suspicious, a security situation."

No. 1 son and his partner were on patrol recently when they spotted a car that caused their spines to tingle. It was, my child said, the "Spidey sense" that prompted them to pull the vehicle over on grounds of something illegally hanging from the rear view mirror (a legitimate reason to stop a car in DC).

The driver jumped out of the car and my son and his partner smelled gasoline on him and his passenger. When they sought permission to search the car, the driver agreed. Lo and behold,they discovered a gun hidden beneath the seat and it was off to jail. It was not long before No. 1 and his partner learned the men had killed a man and tried to burn his body in the adjoining county just 30 minutes prior to the traffic stop.

So in this case, “Spidey sense” helped solve a murder. This type of intuition could be extremely beneficial to all of us, don't you think? I am hoping it's helping No. 2 son to be careful in the swamp, which was important when a rattlesnake appeared at his archaeology dig site last week.

Imagine what would not have happened had former New York Congressman Andrew Weiner had a “Spidey sense” that sending photos of his bulging underwear (and more) could lead to a different reaction than he was seeking.

Surely I'm not the only one becoming weary of learning the sexual proclivities of politicians. I also worry that these kinds of news events cause men to imitate this unsavory behavior, thinking they're smarter and won't get caught. Someone recently asked me why anyone would think a woman would want to receive such a photo. I noted that it's not unlike some women believing men want photos of them in their underwear (or less). Equal rights and all that, you know?

What really, really irritated me about this sordid incident was hearing people ask why a man with such a beautiful and exceptionally intelligent wife would do something like that.

Do people really believe this kind of behavior is more understandable if a wife has average looks and intelligence, or that it might be acceptable if she's stupid and ugly? Is being beautiful and smart all it takes to be an ideal marriage partner? If that's the case, there are a lot of less-than-ideal spouses out there.

But I don't think the Weiner jerk's juvenile and creepy behavior had anything to do with his wife. I believe it everything to do with his ego, arrogance and sexual fantasies. My Spidey sense indicates this isn't the last of the salacious stories we're going to hear about this guy, either.

Do you believe in Spidey sense? Did you have a Spidey sense there was a dire reason this blog hasn't been updated recently? I assure you no scandals are involved.

But seeing as how only one person has asked why it hasn't been updated, perhaps not everyone is interested in my thoughts as I am in sharing them. For that reason, but mostly because I would like to finish a novel before I die, I'm taking a summer vacation from the blogosphere -- unless something so outrageous or exciting occurs that I feel compelled to share it, Spidey sense or not!

"I probably shouldn't tell you...."

No. 2 son's check-in call at the beginning of his Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge archaeology adventure began with, "I probably shouldn't tell you this...."

And here is where I began thinking, "Seriously? Are we really going to have ANOTHER one of these conversations that were not included in the Mom Handbook*?" (*This would be that Motherhood How-To book no one shared with me, as addressed in my previous blog entry.)

"I probably shouldn't tell you that the swamp is home to the largest concentration of black bears on the East Coast," he continued. "But don't worry. We've been given a lot of safety instructions."

I struggled to remain calm and offer my standard response in stressful situations (the ones where I am screaming inside): "That's nice, dear."

But the screams in my head were getting louder, so I added, "Such as?"

He then read this: "If you hear loud noises in the underbrush, be prepared to make loud noises in response."

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Then he offered: "And I probably shouldn't tell you this either, but I may be trained in using a machete."

My response was stunned silence, but Husband No. 1 cheerfully noted from the extension phone that No. 2's brother-the-cop wasn't even trained in machetes. "Maybe they'll even give you a certificate, too," my spouse said in his best fatherly voice.

Seriously? The screams were now in danger of escaping into the atmosphere. There was no hope of restraining myself now. "Will you be able to use the machete against the three types of poisonous snakes that inhabit the swamp? Because I'm really worried about the snakes."

"Ah, I'm not sure. But don't worry, Mom. We've had lots of safety instructions," he repeated.

Don't worry? Are you kidding me? I didn't scream this out loud, although I wanted to but I believe that elusive Mom Handbook probably advises against showing too much fear (I'm not sure because I don't own the book). Instead, I offered this desperate response:

"Maybe you should ask your brother if you can borrow one of his guns."

Now it was Husband No. 1 and No. 2 son who were stunned. And this was truly the moment when I realized I'd gone over the edge. Here I was, a woman who hates guns and wouldn't allow her children to play with the toy versions, suggesting that one son get a firearm from the other.

"I don't think they'll allow that, Mom. This is a university course," No. 2 son said, enunciating each word carefully as though he clearly recognized his mother had become a crazy woman again.

Fortunately, there was an open bottle of red wine nearby. Once I'd finished that and calmed down somewhat, I developed a new fear: He has to hike 45 minutes from the park entrance in his insecticide-soaked clothing and new expensive wader boots through the swamp to the island site of the archaeological dig. What if he's too tired by the time he gets there to make noise in the underbrush or swing a machete against the wildlife?

I probably shouldn't tell you this.... but I'm ordering No. 1 son to get his gun and climb on that motorcycle I didn't want him to buy -- and travel the 3 1/2 hours south from Washington, DC, to retrieve his brother immediately.

And you better believe I'm demanding someone give me a copy of that Mom Handbook for my birthday next month.