Lee had extended his tour of duty in Europe by 6 months. We would have had to uproot the girls from school in mid year as we should have returned to the states Dec. 1980. I had promised the girls that if their dad extended, We would go back to the states for a visit in the summer
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
LOSING A FRIEND
Losing a friend does not get any easier as one ages. In reality, I think it gets more difficult to relinquish these treasured individuals whom we have allowed into our lives, and moreover, they have reciprocated in kind by accepting us, and loving us with all our imperfections. One definition of friend is a close acquaintance, someone whom we become fond of and share our inner most thoughts with. We may know a lot of people, but most of us have precious few "real" friends. I feel privileged to have made some wonderful friends over my lifetime, friends who have been there for me in good times, and friends who have been with me during some of the darkest hours of my life. My eyes well up with tears as I recall the numerous times I have felt the unconditional love and support of close friends when I desperately needed it.
I met Sister Consuela in 1987. She was a diminutive "old school" Sister of Mercy who chose to wear the modern version of the habit and wimple, black in winter, and white in summer. She had beautiful blue eyes which twinkled with her knowing smile. Her grace and silent presence commanded respect to all those who knew her. I knew the first time that I met Sister that I would grow to love her.
In 1987 my husband Lee had recently retired from the U.S. Army after 23 years and accepted the position of Director of the Anesthesia School at Mercy Hospital in Portland, Maine. Sister Consuela was his supervisor, he thought the world of her, and respected her opinion. He was always impressed by her involvement in so many different projects. She was extremely knowledgeable and highly respected by all that she touched over the many years. Her high standards are reflected in the hundreds of nurses who received their training under her tutelage.
Lee and I had planned a trip to Ireland in 1989. Sister Conseula asked if we planned on going to Dublin, she then gave us a little history lesson about Catherine Mc Cauley (the woman who founded The Sister's of Mercy) who was born near Dublin in 1778. Sister asked if would we visit the small museum in honor of Catherine Mc Cauley. I surmised from her enthusiasm that it would mean a great deal to her. I promptly told her that we would be happy to do that for her. As we walked away Lee refreshed my memory that our itinerary did not include Dublin! WELL, of course we went to Dublin! It was a cold rainy, dreary day, really not conducive to finding a tiny shrine to Catherine Mc Cauley half way round the world in Dublin, Ireland. Remember that you drive on the opposite side of the street in The U.K. and now it is literally pouring rain. Thank God that Lee has the patience of Job. He also knows that I am like "a dog with a bone" when I am looking for something. I had him making u-turns after which he would forget and get on the wrong side of the street. It was not pretty, there was not a lot of conversation, BUT we found it! It was a tiny chapel,there was no one in attendance. The only prove that we had been there was a pamphlet with Catherine Mc Cauley's picture, and information about her life, and Lee took a couple photographs. We also purchased some linen handkerchiefs for Sister which we gave her along with the pamphlet. She was absolutely "tinkled pink" and so grateful that we had done this for her. Her eyes were brimming with tears of gratitude as she hugged us. A small gesture which meant so much to her and reminded us once again, that sometimes it doesn't take much to make someone happy.
In 1991 I was contemplating graduate school, however, I was not confident that I could achieve my goals. As Lee said, I kept throwing up "road blocks" for myself which prevented me from applying to Boston College. One day at work he mentioned my dilemma to Sister Consuela. She said "tell Carol to be in my office at 0900 tomorrow morning. Lee said, "it wasn't really a request, it was more like an edict!"
So I was in her office at 0900 sharp the following morning. We talked for 2 hrs, and we talked about everything under the sun. When I left her office that morning I was so "psyched," I felt like I could achieve anything. I did matriculate at Boston College and earned my MSN in Psych/Mental Health, and I shall always be grateful for her encouragement, and support. Actually, I felt that she was my guardian angel and it gave me the strength and determination to stay the course. Sister had a very persuasive way about her, and she also had a wonderful way to convey her caring and love as well, she and I hit it off immediately. Periodically, I would call and ask Sister Consuela if she would care to go out to lunch, she never refused. I always took her to a restaurant along the water which we both thoroughly enjoyed. She always ordered Salmon which she loved, and her dessert consisted of one scoop of vanilla ice cream. When I asked here if she would like dessert, she would always get this little mischievous look in her eyes and smile.
One year, the week before Thanksgiving I asked Lee to invite Sister for dinner, I prefaced my request with "I'm sure at this late date she will already have plans." As luck would have it, she did not have plans and she was ecstatic that she was coming to our home for Thanksgiving dinner. Lee said she announced to everyone she encountered that she was having Thanksgiving dinner at Lee's house. I was honored that she accepted our invitation, and it appears that she was honored to be invited.
When Sister Consuela retired from her position at Mercy Hospital we went to her party. The huge room was packed with people from Sister's past, they all had a story to tell, be it when they were a Nursing student or later when they were employed at Mercy Hospital. She was loved by all whose lives she touched. She was incredulous that so many, many people had come to honor her, and she genuinely did not "get it!" She was just doing her job in the best way she knew how, and did not see what all the fuss was about.
Sister appeared in the halls of Mercy Hospital for several years after her retirement, visiting, encouraging, and praying with patients. She loved seeing old friends and co-workers, some seeking her advice, which was free, but only if it was solicited. Personally, I think she is still roaming those hallowed halls at Mercy Hospital, the place she loved so much, and I think she always will.
Two years ago in July 2009 Lee and I were in Maine on vacation and decided to try and find Sister Conseula. I had written a few notes to her, but for whatever reason, did not hear back from her. It took a couple phone calls and we found her at The Frances Warde Convent on Stevens Ave. She was frail, but bright and alert, and happy to see us. Those beautiful blue eyes still radiant and shining, full of love. We visited for about an hour, she hugged and kissed us both and we said "goodbye. " We all had tears in our eyes silently knowing that this would be our final farewell to Sister Conseula. She walked us to the door and waved to us as we drove away. I can still see her there in my mind's eye.
Sister Conseula passed away last week. I was devastated upon hearing the news, and felt such a loss, however on reflection I was being selfish. This wonderful "saintly" woman has influenced and enriched my life beyond belief, and she has inspired me to be a better person, and a better Christian. I am blessed and priveleged to have known such a woman and to call her my friend.
I'll bet St. Peter wisked her through the heavenly gates so fast when she flashed that ever present twinkle in her eyes. At long last Sister will have the rest with our Heavenly Father which she so richly deserves.
I met Sister Consuela in 1987. She was a diminutive "old school" Sister of Mercy who chose to wear the modern version of the habit and wimple, black in winter, and white in summer. She had beautiful blue eyes which twinkled with her knowing smile. Her grace and silent presence commanded respect to all those who knew her. I knew the first time that I met Sister that I would grow to love her.
In 1987 my husband Lee had recently retired from the U.S. Army after 23 years and accepted the position of Director of the Anesthesia School at Mercy Hospital in Portland, Maine. Sister Consuela was his supervisor, he thought the world of her, and respected her opinion. He was always impressed by her involvement in so many different projects. She was extremely knowledgeable and highly respected by all that she touched over the many years. Her high standards are reflected in the hundreds of nurses who received their training under her tutelage.
Lee and I had planned a trip to Ireland in 1989. Sister Conseula asked if we planned on going to Dublin, she then gave us a little history lesson about Catherine Mc Cauley (the woman who founded The Sister's of Mercy) who was born near Dublin in 1778. Sister asked if would we visit the small museum in honor of Catherine Mc Cauley. I surmised from her enthusiasm that it would mean a great deal to her. I promptly told her that we would be happy to do that for her. As we walked away Lee refreshed my memory that our itinerary did not include Dublin! WELL, of course we went to Dublin! It was a cold rainy, dreary day, really not conducive to finding a tiny shrine to Catherine Mc Cauley half way round the world in Dublin, Ireland. Remember that you drive on the opposite side of the street in The U.K. and now it is literally pouring rain. Thank God that Lee has the patience of Job. He also knows that I am like "a dog with a bone" when I am looking for something. I had him making u-turns after which he would forget and get on the wrong side of the street. It was not pretty, there was not a lot of conversation, BUT we found it! It was a tiny chapel,there was no one in attendance. The only prove that we had been there was a pamphlet with Catherine Mc Cauley's picture, and information about her life, and Lee took a couple photographs. We also purchased some linen handkerchiefs for Sister which we gave her along with the pamphlet. She was absolutely "tinkled pink" and so grateful that we had done this for her. Her eyes were brimming with tears of gratitude as she hugged us. A small gesture which meant so much to her and reminded us once again, that sometimes it doesn't take much to make someone happy.
In 1991 I was contemplating graduate school, however, I was not confident that I could achieve my goals. As Lee said, I kept throwing up "road blocks" for myself which prevented me from applying to Boston College. One day at work he mentioned my dilemma to Sister Consuela. She said "tell Carol to be in my office at 0900 tomorrow morning. Lee said, "it wasn't really a request, it was more like an edict!"
So I was in her office at 0900 sharp the following morning. We talked for 2 hrs, and we talked about everything under the sun. When I left her office that morning I was so "psyched," I felt like I could achieve anything. I did matriculate at Boston College and earned my MSN in Psych/Mental Health, and I shall always be grateful for her encouragement, and support. Actually, I felt that she was my guardian angel and it gave me the strength and determination to stay the course. Sister had a very persuasive way about her, and she also had a wonderful way to convey her caring and love as well, she and I hit it off immediately. Periodically, I would call and ask Sister Consuela if she would care to go out to lunch, she never refused. I always took her to a restaurant along the water which we both thoroughly enjoyed. She always ordered Salmon which she loved, and her dessert consisted of one scoop of vanilla ice cream. When I asked here if she would like dessert, she would always get this little mischievous look in her eyes and smile.
One year, the week before Thanksgiving I asked Lee to invite Sister for dinner, I prefaced my request with "I'm sure at this late date she will already have plans." As luck would have it, she did not have plans and she was ecstatic that she was coming to our home for Thanksgiving dinner. Lee said she announced to everyone she encountered that she was having Thanksgiving dinner at Lee's house. I was honored that she accepted our invitation, and it appears that she was honored to be invited.
When Sister Consuela retired from her position at Mercy Hospital we went to her party. The huge room was packed with people from Sister's past, they all had a story to tell, be it when they were a Nursing student or later when they were employed at Mercy Hospital. She was loved by all whose lives she touched. She was incredulous that so many, many people had come to honor her, and she genuinely did not "get it!" She was just doing her job in the best way she knew how, and did not see what all the fuss was about.
Sister appeared in the halls of Mercy Hospital for several years after her retirement, visiting, encouraging, and praying with patients. She loved seeing old friends and co-workers, some seeking her advice, which was free, but only if it was solicited. Personally, I think she is still roaming those hallowed halls at Mercy Hospital, the place she loved so much, and I think she always will.
Two years ago in July 2009 Lee and I were in Maine on vacation and decided to try and find Sister Conseula. I had written a few notes to her, but for whatever reason, did not hear back from her. It took a couple phone calls and we found her at The Frances Warde Convent on Stevens Ave. She was frail, but bright and alert, and happy to see us. Those beautiful blue eyes still radiant and shining, full of love. We visited for about an hour, she hugged and kissed us both and we said "goodbye. " We all had tears in our eyes silently knowing that this would be our final farewell to Sister Conseula. She walked us to the door and waved to us as we drove away. I can still see her there in my mind's eye.
Sister Conseula passed away last week. I was devastated upon hearing the news, and felt such a loss, however on reflection I was being selfish. This wonderful "saintly" woman has influenced and enriched my life beyond belief, and she has inspired me to be a better person, and a better Christian. I am blessed and priveleged to have known such a woman and to call her my friend.
I'll bet St. Peter wisked her through the heavenly gates so fast when she flashed that ever present twinkle in her eyes. At long last Sister will have the rest with our Heavenly Father which she so richly deserves.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Our day of awe in Rome as John Paul ll takes our hands in His
In the fall of 1980 Lee and I decided to take a trip to Rome, Italy. We had visited Venice in 1979, and it is beautiful. The boat ride to Venice was a little hairy because even though the boat has a plaque that states the maximum number of passengers, they just keep piling more and more people in the boat. Pretty soon there was only a couple inches of boat visible. Thankfully, it was only a short ride, and we all survived. We walked all around Venice with its narrow passageways and magnificent architecture. Saint Mark's Square which is the undisputed symbol of Venice, and of course Doge's Palace and the Bridge of Sighs. The Bridge of Sighs that houses two overlapping corridors was built at the beginning of the 17th century and used to serve as a link between the Old Prison, in the Doge's Palace, and the New Prison's situated beyond the Palazzo River. Legend has it that one could hear the sighs of the condemned as they were being lead to prison.
When we had decided to go to Rome, I had casually mentioned our plans in a letter to a close friend of ours who lives in New York. Florence wrote back and informed me that she has relatives still living in Rome. Fortuitously, for our family, one of her cousins was Pope John Paul ll personal secretary . Florence proceeded to write a letter for us which enabled us entrance into the Vatican. As you might imagine the instructions were very specific. There is a cadre of Swiss Guards in front of the Vatican who guard the entrance, they are the guards who wear the "Pie man Hats" which are purple and gold colored. I approached the guards and showed them the letter which Florence had sent us. It was incredible, within seconds we were escorted into the halls of the Vatican, and within a few moments a diminutive elderly Monseigneur appeared and greeted us.....in Italian! For an instant I was disappointed that we may not gain entrance into the Vatican. However, there was no need to worry because the situation was quickly rectified, a middle age Irish priest was summoned to give us a tour of the Vatican. He took us through the archives which are located in the recesses of the basement of the Vatican. There were several scholarly looking young men scattered around the Archives engrossed in research. Then Father Flanigan took us to some rarely used, sort of "secret or concealed" stairways up to the top floor of the Papal Residence. There was a window at the top of the stairs which when opened revealed a breathtaking view of the private, beautiful, and serene Vatican Gardens. The gardens are lovely and completely devoid of any electrical wires or other encumbrances. Father Flanigan invited us to take as many photos as we wished. Ironically, the best picture I have retained all of these years is the imprint on my brain of these lovely private gardens. (I will explain after I discuss the absolutely wonderful experience of being touched by Pope John Paul ll)
Our tour of the Vatican culminated with a blessing from Father Flanigan with all of us joining hands. His final word to us was "take care of each other and love one another." It was a special moment, I shall never forget. We exited the Vatican with our feet not quite touching the ground, with the knowledge that we had experienced and witnessed something special, and unique, something that few people get the opportunity to experience
Next on the agenda was the Papal appearance in St. Peter's Square at 1300 that same afternoon. Another friend of ours had suggested that we visit the USO which was not far from The Square. The USO was originally a place for the American soldiers to go to on their time off. Sometimes there would be some sort of entertainment there, cigarettes, stationery, and conversation were available as well as the camaraderie of other young men who were also displaced from their families and their country. The lady who ran the USO was an elderly woman who had a tale to tell, she was actually in her mid 80's. She really seemed to enjoy our daughters, who at the time, were ages 11 & 13 yr. old. She proceeded to tell us that she had lived in Italy during the fascist dictatorship of Mussolini. The woman explained how she and her family had escaped from Italy and the brutality of Mussolini to Switzerland, unfortunately not before they witnessed many atrocities, and acts of cruelty to their fellow countrymen.
The woman asked us if we were going to St. Peter's square to see the pope, and we of course answered in the affirmative. She said "I will tell you exactly where to stand, and you can pretty much be assured to see Him up close." We got there early and stood precisely where she suggested. There were very few people in St. Peter's Square at the time. As the time for the Pope's appearance grew closer, the people appeared in throngs and the Square filled up to the point that I became anxious, and somewhat fearful. Lee and I and the girls were in the front row and the crowds behind us started to press against us. This indeed was scary. Just about the time when I felt like I was going to be pushed to the ground the Vatican police commenced to using their "Billie clubs" on the people who were shoving from behind us. These police were forceful and hit hard, they meant business, there was no doubt about it. Therefore, it did not take much time at all for the crowds to be under control. I for one was very grateful. It was not long afterwards and the Pope appeared in his Pope mobile, they drove slowly up and down between the various rows of the people. Lee and I were taking pictures like professional shutter bugs. I took 2 rolls of the Pope myself. My hands were trembling in anticipation of seeing the Pope, especially so physically close, it was an exciting, wonderful experience in my life. As the Pope mobile approached us, for some reason they decided to stop directly in front of us. The Pope asked us where we were from, and of course we stated we were Americans. He took our hands in His and cupped our hands together, and blessed us before He continued on through St. Peter's Square. My eyes filled with tears, to have been touched by the Holy Father, this "little ole Catholic girl" felt truly blessed. The lady in the USO was spot on with her directions and I will be forever grateful. For me it was the thrill of a lifetime, one I shall always savor. After we returned to Heidelberg, we packed up all of our film in a large envelope and sent it to the processing company which we had used for the entire 2 years we had been in Germany. About 10 days later we received a letter from the photo processing company stating that our film never arrived there. According to the company they only received a torn envelope and the check which we had enclosed intact inside the envelope. You can draw your own conclusions of what you think happened. Every time afterwards when I saw a closeup picture of the Pope, I'd say to Lee "There is one of our photos." I will always believe that someone saw an opportunity and took advantage of it.
Luckily, I do have a few pictures of Pope John Paul ll which were on the end of another roll which I did not send in for developing. The beautiful Vatican Gardens are but a memory though since those pictures were among the ones which were sent in the mail. I will always have the vivid memories of that beautiful blessed day, they belong to me alone.
While in the Rome area we decided to take a bus tour of Sorrento, Pompeii and Naples. Sorrento is beautiful with its lovely houses built into the cliffs along the Mediterrean. It seems that no matter where we traveled in Europe we were always surprised and charmed at the beauty and quaintness we found.
We continued along on our bus tour ate a delicious lunch of fried calamari and salad, and of course Lee and I enjoyed a lovely glass of Italian wine.
As an aside, the people of Italy, especially the male gender, were very fascinated by our two daughters, both who are very fair skinned, one with very blonde hair, the other a strawberry blonde. A man sat next to our almost 14 yr old daughter on the subway, he proceeded to tell her several times, how beautiful she was, etc. Unbeknownst to him, Lee and I were sitting directly across from him. When the subway stopped at the next station, Lee and I stood up, and our daughter took a hold of her dad's hand as we disembarked.
Ciao,
Carol
When we had decided to go to Rome, I had casually mentioned our plans in a letter to a close friend of ours who lives in New York. Florence wrote back and informed me that she has relatives still living in Rome. Fortuitously, for our family, one of her cousins was Pope John Paul ll personal secretary . Florence proceeded to write a letter for us which enabled us entrance into the Vatican. As you might imagine the instructions were very specific. There is a cadre of Swiss Guards in front of the Vatican who guard the entrance, they are the guards who wear the "Pie man Hats" which are purple and gold colored. I approached the guards and showed them the letter which Florence had sent us. It was incredible, within seconds we were escorted into the halls of the Vatican, and within a few moments a diminutive elderly Monseigneur appeared and greeted us.....in Italian! For an instant I was disappointed that we may not gain entrance into the Vatican. However, there was no need to worry because the situation was quickly rectified, a middle age Irish priest was summoned to give us a tour of the Vatican. He took us through the archives which are located in the recesses of the basement of the Vatican. There were several scholarly looking young men scattered around the Archives engrossed in research. Then Father Flanigan took us to some rarely used, sort of "secret or concealed" stairways up to the top floor of the Papal Residence. There was a window at the top of the stairs which when opened revealed a breathtaking view of the private, beautiful, and serene Vatican Gardens. The gardens are lovely and completely devoid of any electrical wires or other encumbrances. Father Flanigan invited us to take as many photos as we wished. Ironically, the best picture I have retained all of these years is the imprint on my brain of these lovely private gardens. (I will explain after I discuss the absolutely wonderful experience of being touched by Pope John Paul ll)
Our tour of the Vatican culminated with a blessing from Father Flanigan with all of us joining hands. His final word to us was "take care of each other and love one another." It was a special moment, I shall never forget. We exited the Vatican with our feet not quite touching the ground, with the knowledge that we had experienced and witnessed something special, and unique, something that few people get the opportunity to experience
Next on the agenda was the Papal appearance in St. Peter's Square at 1300 that same afternoon. Another friend of ours had suggested that we visit the USO which was not far from The Square. The USO was originally a place for the American soldiers to go to on their time off. Sometimes there would be some sort of entertainment there, cigarettes, stationery, and conversation were available as well as the camaraderie of other young men who were also displaced from their families and their country. The lady who ran the USO was an elderly woman who had a tale to tell, she was actually in her mid 80's. She really seemed to enjoy our daughters, who at the time, were ages 11 & 13 yr. old. She proceeded to tell us that she had lived in Italy during the fascist dictatorship of Mussolini. The woman explained how she and her family had escaped from Italy and the brutality of Mussolini to Switzerland, unfortunately not before they witnessed many atrocities, and acts of cruelty to their fellow countrymen.
The woman asked us if we were going to St. Peter's square to see the pope, and we of course answered in the affirmative. She said "I will tell you exactly where to stand, and you can pretty much be assured to see Him up close." We got there early and stood precisely where she suggested. There were very few people in St. Peter's Square at the time. As the time for the Pope's appearance grew closer, the people appeared in throngs and the Square filled up to the point that I became anxious, and somewhat fearful. Lee and I and the girls were in the front row and the crowds behind us started to press against us. This indeed was scary. Just about the time when I felt like I was going to be pushed to the ground the Vatican police commenced to using their "Billie clubs" on the people who were shoving from behind us. These police were forceful and hit hard, they meant business, there was no doubt about it. Therefore, it did not take much time at all for the crowds to be under control. I for one was very grateful. It was not long afterwards and the Pope appeared in his Pope mobile, they drove slowly up and down between the various rows of the people. Lee and I were taking pictures like professional shutter bugs. I took 2 rolls of the Pope myself. My hands were trembling in anticipation of seeing the Pope, especially so physically close, it was an exciting, wonderful experience in my life. As the Pope mobile approached us, for some reason they decided to stop directly in front of us. The Pope asked us where we were from, and of course we stated we were Americans. He took our hands in His and cupped our hands together, and blessed us before He continued on through St. Peter's Square. My eyes filled with tears, to have been touched by the Holy Father, this "little ole Catholic girl" felt truly blessed. The lady in the USO was spot on with her directions and I will be forever grateful. For me it was the thrill of a lifetime, one I shall always savor. After we returned to Heidelberg, we packed up all of our film in a large envelope and sent it to the processing company which we had used for the entire 2 years we had been in Germany. About 10 days later we received a letter from the photo processing company stating that our film never arrived there. According to the company they only received a torn envelope and the check which we had enclosed intact inside the envelope. You can draw your own conclusions of what you think happened. Every time afterwards when I saw a closeup picture of the Pope, I'd say to Lee "There is one of our photos." I will always believe that someone saw an opportunity and took advantage of it.
Luckily, I do have a few pictures of Pope John Paul ll which were on the end of another roll which I did not send in for developing. The beautiful Vatican Gardens are but a memory though since those pictures were among the ones which were sent in the mail. I will always have the vivid memories of that beautiful blessed day, they belong to me alone.
While in the Rome area we decided to take a bus tour of Sorrento, Pompeii and Naples. Sorrento is beautiful with its lovely houses built into the cliffs along the Mediterrean. It seems that no matter where we traveled in Europe we were always surprised and charmed at the beauty and quaintness we found.
We continued along on our bus tour ate a delicious lunch of fried calamari and salad, and of course Lee and I enjoyed a lovely glass of Italian wine.
As an aside, the people of Italy, especially the male gender, were very fascinated by our two daughters, both who are very fair skinned, one with very blonde hair, the other a strawberry blonde. A man sat next to our almost 14 yr old daughter on the subway, he proceeded to tell her several times, how beautiful she was, etc. Unbeknownst to him, Lee and I were sitting directly across from him. When the subway stopped at the next station, Lee and I stood up, and our daughter took a hold of her dad's hand as we disembarked.
Ciao,
Carol
Monday, May 23, 2011
"Volksmarching" our way through Germany
One of the most popular pastimes for families on the weekends was to go on a "Volksmarch." It actually translates into "people walk," and is not only a wonderful opportunity for families to spend time together, but also a great way to stay physically fit. I am not sure how many of these walks our family participated in, but sufficed to say at least 50. There were 2 choices for the distance which we could traverse. One choice was 10 kilometers (6 mi.) or 20 kilometers (12 mi.) Wherever the march was laid out, it was always breathtakingly beautiful. It could be serene farm land with grazing contented cows and babbling brooks, or lush green forests with the melodious songs of the indigenous birds of that area serenading us in the background. The reward for completing the walk was a medallion which were made of bronze, silver, or gold. The one we received depended on whatever we registered and paid for. There was a fee to participate in these walks, it was a method of raising monies for the individual clubs. The Americans had a club as did the Canadians, etc. and the fees were used to purchase medals for future walks, and various other expenses. Usually, we participated as a family, but once in a while if I really liked the medal which was given at the finish, I would go alone. One Saturday in particular Lee was on call and I decided to do just that. It was a 20 kilometer or 12 mile walk, or in my case, run. I initially started walking, but found it rather boring so decided to run through. If my memory serves me correctly it took me 2 hrs to do it.
Another weekend when Lee was on call the girls and I went on a walk with a friend. Actually, she was also a CRNA and Lee's supervisor. She had no family to accompany her on her assignment to Germany therefore we included her in many of our family activities. On this particular Saturday, she drove. After the walk and refreshments we were ready to start for home. My friend could not find her car keys, we looked high and low with no luck. There were lots of people of various nationalities milling around, I decided to try and converse with someone to see if they had found a set of car keys. The German word for key is "schlussel," so I started asking people in German if they had seen the keys. One man acted like he had found the keys, "Die Schussel, die schussel" he shouted. I said "yes, yes!! He said "Nein", so after a few minutes it was clear that he had not found the keys. However, this middle age German man whom I did not know, and had never seen before, handed me his car keys to a brand new 5 speed Ford Fiesta. He even showed me where the registration was located. We were incredulous! I mean how many times does someone offer their car keys to a total stranger, from another country?? I explained to him that I lived in Heidelberg and it would take me over 1 hour to get there and then of course the same to return. It was fine with him he said, so I drove to Heidelberg and back with the keys for my friend's car. By the time we returned with his car, he had raised the stein more than a few times, and was in a very jovial mood. We were truly grateful for his generosity and we went on our merry way back home. I really don't know what we would have done with out his generosity. He told me his name was "Johnnie," I saw him many, many times after that at the "Volksmarches. "The first time I saw him again after I had used his car, he told me, "My wife, she was so-o angry that I gave my new car to an American woman." He laughed and laughed when he said it"and I knew he would do it again if the occasion arose. There were other instances where Lee and I were the recipients of German hospitality, simply because the individual told us that "they liked Americans."
Another instance of German hospitality occured when Lee and I attended the famous celebration of the "Ocktoberfest" in 1979, but that is another episode.
Auf Wiedersehen,
Carol
Another weekend when Lee was on call the girls and I went on a walk with a friend. Actually, she was also a CRNA and Lee's supervisor. She had no family to accompany her on her assignment to Germany therefore we included her in many of our family activities. On this particular Saturday, she drove. After the walk and refreshments we were ready to start for home. My friend could not find her car keys, we looked high and low with no luck. There were lots of people of various nationalities milling around, I decided to try and converse with someone to see if they had found a set of car keys. The German word for key is "schlussel," so I started asking people in German if they had seen the keys. One man acted like he had found the keys, "Die Schussel, die schussel" he shouted. I said "yes, yes!! He said "Nein", so after a few minutes it was clear that he had not found the keys. However, this middle age German man whom I did not know, and had never seen before, handed me his car keys to a brand new 5 speed Ford Fiesta. He even showed me where the registration was located. We were incredulous! I mean how many times does someone offer their car keys to a total stranger, from another country?? I explained to him that I lived in Heidelberg and it would take me over 1 hour to get there and then of course the same to return. It was fine with him he said, so I drove to Heidelberg and back with the keys for my friend's car. By the time we returned with his car, he had raised the stein more than a few times, and was in a very jovial mood. We were truly grateful for his generosity and we went on our merry way back home. I really don't know what we would have done with out his generosity. He told me his name was "Johnnie," I saw him many, many times after that at the "Volksmarches. "The first time I saw him again after I had used his car, he told me, "My wife, she was so-o angry that I gave my new car to an American woman." He laughed and laughed when he said it"and I knew he would do it again if the occasion arose. There were other instances where Lee and I were the recipients of German hospitality, simply because the individual told us that "they liked Americans."
Another instance of German hospitality occured when Lee and I attended the famous celebration of the "Ocktoberfest" in 1979, but that is another episode.
Auf Wiedersehen,
Carol
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Life in Germany, and Europe
Our life in Germany was rather magical, for me, anyway. Maybe that is because I was just a farm girl at heart. Actually, the American compound where we lived was just about five miles from the commissary and Military Post Exchange. So we were out in the country with lots of farms all around us. Some people chose to stay on the compound exclusively. It really had everything a person could want. There was the 130th Station Hospital which was a 100 bed hospital. This is where Lee worked, and it also has some history there, it is the place where Gen. George Patton passed away. It was also where I ultimately found gainful employment. If military personnel or their dependents needed a specialist we referred them to Landstuhl Air Force Base. The military compound had churches, youth centers, movie theaters, snack Bars, Bowling alleys, the Enlisted Clubs, the Officer's Club.
There were several stores or kiosks which specialized in German products as well as products from several other countries which could be purchased at a less expensive rate than outside stores. They had a separate store where beer, wine, liquor, and soft drinks could be purchased, also at a reduced cost, and of course no tax. By this time we had established a good relationship with Herr Hartman and purchased most of our wines from him. Lee and I certainly did use the facilities for grocery shopping etc. however outside of the boundaries of the military posts was a whole other world which beckoned to us. Besides having privileges to the American facilities, we also had the availability of the French commissary, and the Canadian facilities as well. So you can understand how easy it was for us to develop our palates to include some of the delicious breads, cheeses, wines and other delicacies such as foie gras which were prepared daily and available to us. Besides all of these military facilities, of course we had the countries themselves to explore, savor and enjoy. As I stated earlier the American dollar was not strong during the 3 1/2 years that we were assigned in Europe, consequently we tried to stretch our money as much as possible. One thing that we always did however while visiting a different country was to sample the cuisine from that area. I was amazed at how much our daughters loved snails smothered in garlic and butter, and deep fried squid. I remember vividly one trip to Switzerland we all cross country skied 12 miles, then took a cable car to Murren which is a small town nestled in the Swiss Alps. It was snowing heavily, a beautiful winter wonderland. We were ravenous by the time we arrived in the small town which is accessible only by foot or cable car. A small cafe beckoned to us with the wonderful aromas of Swiss and French fare wafting through our senses. Our lunch consisted of hot steamy bowls of french onion soup and a quiche Lorraine which was hastily devoured. The meals are always accompanied by petite loaves of the most heavenly crusty french bread, and if you choose, a nice glass of french red or white wine. Just recalling these wonderful gourmet meals brings me back to those dimly lite cafes where fine dining was the norm. This is just one of so many hundreds of vivid and delicious memories of our experiences in Europe. When we moved back to the states Lee and I tried and tried to replicate the wonderful breads of Europe to no avail. Our breads are delicious, but I am certain that the romantic ambiance of Europe no doubt enhanced the foods even more.
I could go on and on, as you may appreciate I absolutely love traveling, fine dining, and meeting new and different people. Actually, I was in the best physical condition of my life while we lived in Germany. I ran 6 miles religiously every day so I could eat what I wanted, believe me it was worth it. That coupled with the fact that we resided on the third floor of our apartment bldg which by the way provided laundry rooms in the basement, kept me physically in great shape.
Au re voir,
Carol
There were several stores or kiosks which specialized in German products as well as products from several other countries which could be purchased at a less expensive rate than outside stores. They had a separate store where beer, wine, liquor, and soft drinks could be purchased, also at a reduced cost, and of course no tax. By this time we had established a good relationship with Herr Hartman and purchased most of our wines from him. Lee and I certainly did use the facilities for grocery shopping etc. however outside of the boundaries of the military posts was a whole other world which beckoned to us. Besides having privileges to the American facilities, we also had the availability of the French commissary, and the Canadian facilities as well. So you can understand how easy it was for us to develop our palates to include some of the delicious breads, cheeses, wines and other delicacies such as foie gras which were prepared daily and available to us. Besides all of these military facilities, of course we had the countries themselves to explore, savor and enjoy. As I stated earlier the American dollar was not strong during the 3 1/2 years that we were assigned in Europe, consequently we tried to stretch our money as much as possible. One thing that we always did however while visiting a different country was to sample the cuisine from that area. I was amazed at how much our daughters loved snails smothered in garlic and butter, and deep fried squid. I remember vividly one trip to Switzerland we all cross country skied 12 miles, then took a cable car to Murren which is a small town nestled in the Swiss Alps. It was snowing heavily, a beautiful winter wonderland. We were ravenous by the time we arrived in the small town which is accessible only by foot or cable car. A small cafe beckoned to us with the wonderful aromas of Swiss and French fare wafting through our senses. Our lunch consisted of hot steamy bowls of french onion soup and a quiche Lorraine which was hastily devoured. The meals are always accompanied by petite loaves of the most heavenly crusty french bread, and if you choose, a nice glass of french red or white wine. Just recalling these wonderful gourmet meals brings me back to those dimly lite cafes where fine dining was the norm. This is just one of so many hundreds of vivid and delicious memories of our experiences in Europe. When we moved back to the states Lee and I tried and tried to replicate the wonderful breads of Europe to no avail. Our breads are delicious, but I am certain that the romantic ambiance of Europe no doubt enhanced the foods even more.
I could go on and on, as you may appreciate I absolutely love traveling, fine dining, and meeting new and different people. Actually, I was in the best physical condition of my life while we lived in Germany. I ran 6 miles religiously every day so I could eat what I wanted, believe me it was worth it. That coupled with the fact that we resided on the third floor of our apartment bldg which by the way provided laundry rooms in the basement, kept me physically in great shape.
Au re voir,
Carol
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
More tales about Ireland
Lee and I have had so many wonderful and memorable experiences in Ireland. Every place we have visited has given us memories which are priceless, and memories that I shall always cherish. On one visit Lee and I had stopped in a small seaside town . It was getting close to lunch time and we needed to exchange some U.S. dollars for the Irish Punt. As I said "it was a wee town" with only a bank, a hotel and a few other small businesses. When exchanging money the bank requires a passport which I quickly supplied. While in the bank I inquired about a place to eat lunch. The hotel in town was recommended, and Lee and I finished our business and proceeded over to the hotel for lunch. While we were enjoying our lunch, which by the way was a lovely and delicious chowder, I heard my name called out. The bank had called the hotel to see if we had taken their advice to eat there. Apparently, while exchanging money and engaging in some chitchat at the bank I had forgotten my passport. After lunch Lee and I proceeded towards the bank to pick up my passport and be on our way. We should have known better, things just do not happen quickly in Ireland. The bank was closed for lunch which we had completely forgotten is a European custom. The bank would reopen at 1400 for business. Next to the bank was a Video store and we decided to inquire over there, well the lady knew who we were, and told us the woman who works in the bank had informed her in that an American couple would be stopping in to retrieve a passport. The Video store lady actually had the key to the bank, but we said we would wait. No point in creating a fuss about it, she came back shortly and we headed to the West of Ireland. Lee and I were just amazed at how casual everything was there, and further more the trouble they went through to get my passport back to me. It is just one example of the generosity and honesty of the locals.
Another time, Lee and I were celebrating our 30th anniversary, we had no particular plans, no room reservations,etc. Twenty years ago this was easy to do, there were always B & B's or maybe a small hotel to stay. We were pretty spontaneous in those days, the days of our youth. If we stumbled upon something interesting we would just get a room and stay a few days. Well, Lady Luck steered us right to a B & B called Ardmore House in a small town called Clifden in the West of Ireland. The woman who ran it named Kathy Mullins is just a delightful, generous, and hardworking hostess. Behind their house their land spread out all the way to the Mannin Bay which runs off the Atlantic Ocean. The Mullins dog, a large "Old English Sheepdog" named Sam followed us everywhere. When we returned home and were reviewing our photographs "Sam" appeared in nearly every shot. Lee and I took many, many, long walks along the bay which was deserted albeit for the two of us. Actually, it was just the way we like it, Lee and me. We walked out to the bay early one morning and felt fortunate to be able to enjoy watching the dolphins frolicking in the morning sun.
Kathy's husband Padraig played the fiddle at one of the local pubs, we are not much for drinking, but decided to go, especially since they had invited us. We had lots of fun, singing along with the music, and enjoying the local scene. Thank heavens we didn't imbibe much for the road back to the B&B is a very narrow and twisty road which is dangerous even when one is stone sober.
We recommended Ardmore House to several friends who also thoroughly enjoyed their stay, and the accommodations and generosity of the Mullins family.
I will stop for tonight, thank you to all my readers for your support. I appreciate it.
Carol
Another time, Lee and I were celebrating our 30th anniversary, we had no particular plans, no room reservations,etc. Twenty years ago this was easy to do, there were always B & B's or maybe a small hotel to stay. We were pretty spontaneous in those days, the days of our youth. If we stumbled upon something interesting we would just get a room and stay a few days. Well, Lady Luck steered us right to a B & B called Ardmore House in a small town called Clifden in the West of Ireland. The woman who ran it named Kathy Mullins is just a delightful, generous, and hardworking hostess. Behind their house their land spread out all the way to the Mannin Bay which runs off the Atlantic Ocean. The Mullins dog, a large "Old English Sheepdog" named Sam followed us everywhere. When we returned home and were reviewing our photographs "Sam" appeared in nearly every shot. Lee and I took many, many, long walks along the bay which was deserted albeit for the two of us. Actually, it was just the way we like it, Lee and me. We walked out to the bay early one morning and felt fortunate to be able to enjoy watching the dolphins frolicking in the morning sun.
Kathy's husband Padraig played the fiddle at one of the local pubs, we are not much for drinking, but decided to go, especially since they had invited us. We had lots of fun, singing along with the music, and enjoying the local scene. Thank heavens we didn't imbibe much for the road back to the B&B is a very narrow and twisty road which is dangerous even when one is stone sober.
We recommended Ardmore House to several friends who also thoroughly enjoyed their stay, and the accommodations and generosity of the Mullins family.
I will stop for tonight, thank you to all my readers for your support. I appreciate it.
Carol
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Ireland, Oh Ireland!
After we spent a few days in and around Killarney, and visiting "The Blarney Castle" where I might add I kissed the "blarney stone," which if you have been there, you are aware that it is no small feat. You almost have to stand on your head, and of course need assistance to accomplish this. I had made reservations for us to go horseback riding through the "Gap of Dunloe." It was a beautiful ride, but it took over 4 hrs. which I am sure you can imagine, became rather uncomfortable. It was absolutely lovely, and eventually our saddle sores faded. We then started North West to "Dingle Peninsula," it is one of the most beautiful places in the world, and we were very fortunate to see the Peninsula when it was relatively virgin land. In 1970 while Lee was in Viet Nam, a movie called "Ryan's Daughter" was filmed there on the Peninsula. After I saw that movie I promised myself I would one day go to Ireland to see this beautiful landscape. Since we first visited the Peninsula there have been many houses built there, the land was purchased by residents of Germany, France, and U.S. citizens as well, for summer homes, and it has changed the personality of the once wide open spaces, and beautiful, breath taking views. We stopped in Tralee along the way which is a lovely, typical Irish town. While we were there I noticed a flyer which advertised Irish dancing, admission was by donation. It was a lot of fun, and really "show cased" some of their traditions. After the dancing, various residents of the town stepped up after their talents were requested, and sang familiar Irish songs. Our journey continued towards Galway which is a lovely more rugged area, with a rocky coast. This is also the area where the beautiful Connemara Pony originated, we were fortunate to see many of these beautiful animals while driving through the area. As we traveled up the west coast of Ireland and north of Galway, Lee asked me if I really wanted to go to the North of Ireland to visit the young couple we met on the ferry. I was elated, and reaffirmed my interest in visiting our new found friends. We crossed from the south into the north without incident. The British soldiers waved us through just as Clive told us they would. It was rather intimidating however, since the soldiers who were stationed along the border were armed with automatic weapons. We just kept our eyes straight ahead and drove right through. We had a lovely meal with Hazel & Clive, and there was no lack of conversation. Hazel is a math teacher, she is very educated and interested in everything. Clive worked for a company called John Player which sells tobacco products. At that time they both were very heavy smokers.
Hazel told me later that her mother was quite upset with her to bring strangers in to their home, and Americans at that. It did not take long for us to win her over, and we have laughed about it over the years. While we were at Hazel's our girls became friends with some of the neighborhood teenagers. On the day we left Northern Ireland one of the boys gave our oldest daughter the flag of Northern Ireland which is the orange flag. The Orange flag is associated with the Protestants. At that time the conflict between the IRA and the British was still going on, the year was 1979. About a week after we left Northern Ireland the young boy was shot and killed in an incident with the British. Our daughter still has that flag, over thirty years later. We headed south towards Dublin, our vacation drawing to a close. Ireland is a beautiful country. This was the first of many visits to this place, this place of my forefathers. When we first arrived in Ireland I was impressed with how much the people resembled some of my own relatives, it was uncanny. As we boarded the ferry bound from Dublin to England, It was like I had taken a walk back in time, I felt like I belonged, and I knew I'd be back again.
Goodnight Carol
Hazel told me later that her mother was quite upset with her to bring strangers in to their home, and Americans at that. It did not take long for us to win her over, and we have laughed about it over the years. While we were at Hazel's our girls became friends with some of the neighborhood teenagers. On the day we left Northern Ireland one of the boys gave our oldest daughter the flag of Northern Ireland which is the orange flag. The Orange flag is associated with the Protestants. At that time the conflict between the IRA and the British was still going on, the year was 1979. About a week after we left Northern Ireland the young boy was shot and killed in an incident with the British. Our daughter still has that flag, over thirty years later. We headed south towards Dublin, our vacation drawing to a close. Ireland is a beautiful country. This was the first of many visits to this place, this place of my forefathers. When we first arrived in Ireland I was impressed with how much the people resembled some of my own relatives, it was uncanny. As we boarded the ferry bound from Dublin to England, It was like I had taken a walk back in time, I felt like I belonged, and I knew I'd be back again.
Goodnight Carol
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