Favorite Places

My husband and I live in upstate New York near the Hudson River. We are 100 miles north of New York City in the beautiful Hudson Valley. We were fortunate enough to grow up here. Over the years, we have hiked many trails along the river and visited many of the unique mansions built along it. (More blogs to come on these mansions.)

Last week we stopped to visit a place we discovered during the winter. We wanted to revisit the area to see how it changed for the summer season. We were not disappointed.

Esopus Meadows is a small picnic area on the west side of the river, south of where we live. Picnic tables and benches allow you to sit and watch the river activity.

If you are lucky, you may get to see a tugboat pushing a barge up or down the river or a tour boat cruising along. These cruises allow you to see the lighthouses in the area close up. My personal favorite is to watch the sail boats glide along the water.

 

You can also explore the water's edge for nature's beauty.

Like the stream in my backyard growing up, the river provides a place of respite, time to experience God's creation, and a place to refresh and restore. Go ahead take some time to click on the photos and enlarge them to see the detail. I have enclosed some music to experience it with the music of Phil Keaggy's Addison's Walk. So click the arrow on the link below and then go back and double click on the photos to see them up close (then hit the back arrow to return).

The Road Less Traveled, Pt. 1

Trail at Mills-Norrie State Park (Photo by son, Bryan)

In the book The Road Less Traveled, the author makes a statement that really stood out to me. He said, “The Catholic Church provided me with my living as a psychiatrist.”

I grew up in the Catholic Church. I was baptized as an infant, attended Catechism classes, received my first Holy Communion, and had my Confirmation. I even attended those special classes that got you out of school for an hour or so in elementary school. I believe it was called, “Release Time”. I learned that Jesus died on the cross for my sins and sins were the bad things I did. I learned to pray the Lord’s Prayer, say the Apostle’s Creed, go to confession and heard some stories of the Bible. I rarely got anything out of Sunday sermons, but the classes introduced me to the idea that there was more outside my own little world than just MY experiences. It also was the start of learning many traditions of the Catholic church.

My mother filled in the rest. Telling me that even though she could not be everywhere, God could and he knew everything I did. She also let me know that for every wrong I may have done, I should do something good to counter it. She is the one who really taught us the Lord’s Prayer. She is the one who put the “FEAR” of God (or was it the Devil?) in me.  Anyway, it was a foundation that I had to build on, warped though it may be.
 

In my preteen years, I remember one Sunday sitting with my dad on the hill above our home. Both of us did not go to church and we had hiked up the hill to enjoy the beauty of the view from the top. As we sat, I ask him why he didn’t go to church anymore. He said he couldn’t stand to watch the hypocrites that went there, doing nice nice on Sunday and doing not so nice on all the other days. He took his hand and waved it in front of us and said, “This is all the church I need.” Hmmmm, food for thought.

When I was in Jr. High I attended a Social Studies class. During the first week, the teacher asked each student to raise their hands if they were Christians. (Imagine this today!!!) Several students raised their hands including me. He proceeded to go on to Jewish, Mormon, Jehovah’s Witness, Protestant, and finally Catholic. At this point I was in a quandary. I KNEW I was Catholic, but I already raised my hand for Christian and as far as I knew a Christian was anyone who believed in Christ. Was there a difference? Thus was the start of my search --on and off through the years -- to find out.

While still in High School, I listened more carefully to what people said their “beliefs” were. Remember, I grew up with the conflicting times of “Jesus Christ Superstar!”, “Godspell”, and the slogan, “God is dead!” I listened and I took in a lot. Very confused, I decided maybe it was all a hoax. Then and there I decided to live as if God did not exist. I wouldn’t go to church, I wouldn’t say Grace, I wouldn’t say my prayers at night. Within two weeks, I could no longer take it. Questions had been  popping into my head ever since I started this experiment:

If there was no God, then who created all this?

Who organized everything to grow from seed to flower and back to seed?

Who designed this phenomenal human body that I was learning so much about?
Where did the structure for all our government and laws come from?

What was I doing here? Did I have a purpose? Does anyone have a purpose?

My answer to all this was there had to be a God. It was the only thing that made sense. So I gave up the notion that there was no God and embarked on a search for who He was and what my purpose was in this life.

As I stated earlier, as a child I learned to pray. My prayers went something like this: “Dear God, if you will just get me a new bicycle, I will do…..” only calling up God when I needed something.

Then I remember the time I heard a friend of my mom’s say to her, “You know God wants to hear from you every day, not just when you want something” and that got me thinking.

A sister-in-law once said, “If I ever had children, I would introduce them to God and the Church and let them make their own decisions.” That too, got me thinking.

Such was the beginning of my walks on a road to spiritual awakening. In later blogs, I will share more of my encounters and where I am today. By the way, Peck does continue in his book to say, "I could equally well have said the Baptist Church, Lutheran Church, Presbyterian Church, or any other." Still walking down the road…

Bridges and Brew

Crashing through the wooden bridge.

I have many memories of growing up in the house in West Shokan. I spent 18 years there before I moved out. I will share more of them in later blogs. However my older siblings and parents told stories for years of the exciting adventures of living in the country. Some of these were before Rick and I came along or were just too young at the time to know what was going on. One of those stories was of the oil truck that collapsed the bridge.

You see, there was a stream that separated Dry Brook Road from our driveway. When my family first moved in and for many years afterward (even I can remember this) the bridge was made of lumber. I think the only things supporting the planks were beams that connected the two sides (picture a ladder placed across the stream). I do seem to recall wooden beams under the bridge when we played in the stream.

I assume the bridge was originally made so crudely for the sole purpose of getting vehicles to the house and that was all the materials that were on hand and it worked, for a while. However, if I remember correctly, the oil deliveryman was leery of the bridge and didn't want to cross it, but someone convinced him to do it. Oil deliveries had been made many times before, so they knew it could be done. However, someone may not have taken into consideration how much oil was in each truck. Anyway the driver eventually was convinced. (Never doubt your instincts, people!) and he drove over the bridge. The picture tells the rest of the story.

Because the planks were placed on top of huge beams that connected the two banks of the stream. A loud noise was made every time you drove over the planks. This was a clue to us that we had company coming! This proved very handy when the Still was in operation.

The Still? You ask. Oh, I haven't told the story of how the biggest barn on the property was used as a distillery for, yes, you guessed it -- Moonshine! The Giuliano Family purchased the property and then rented it out to a group from NYC. These folks built a huge vat in the barn and had pipes running all through the property to run off the mash and operate the Still. In 1950, it was raided, the men arrested and the Still shut down. Click on the title above for the newspaper article. The story goes that a pilot working for the NYC Reservoir was patrolling the area for the security purposes when he noticed the roof on the barn had no snow on it. They sent officers to investigate and jackpot!

It made for a very exciting history of the house. In the house itself was a trap door to the basement. As kids Rick and I used to dream up stories of how the trap door was used. Once I learned of a second attic in the house, I used to wondered if there was hidden treasure up there. I also wondered if money was hidden in the ground somewhere on the property. Years later when I would put in gardens in various parts of the yard I would come across the pipes that were buried in the ground, but no treasures.

Across the creek I discovered an area where old bottles were dumped. It was fascinating finding all those bottles and wondering what they had held and who put them there. (Makes one wonder what future generations will think of all the garbage and appliances we have in land fills.)

Relatives of the Giuliano's still live in the area and shared a few more details of the Still with me. Thank you Florence! As stated above, I will share more on later blogs.

Beary Green??? A recycling idea.

After our mom passed on, the family cleaned out the house. After selling some items or donating them, we stored some to take time to decide at a later date what to do with them. Among those items were several fur coats that belonged to our mom. They had to have been passed down from Grandma as Mom and Dad never had enough money to by fur coats.

After a few years of being stored in the attic, we found a woman in West Shokan, NY that made bears out for old fur coats. We commissioned her to make several bears. Lynn, Elaine and JoAnn all have bears. There was still fur left over, so we decided to have more made. We gave these bears to Grandma's other granddaughters (our cousins), Lorraine and Barbara on their 60th birthdays.

I wrote the following poem to go with the bears to explain its history.

            The Bear Facts

                                             by JoAnn Bell

I come to you from far away,

A place you used to come to stay.

Where family gathered and food was shared

And hikes abounded if one dared.

Quite unique a bear am I,

Sit back, listen, and I’ll tell you why.

My fur is made of a special coat.

Not any old skin, off some meaningless boat.

A hand-me-down that brought such pleasure,

Only its owner could properly measure.

Of course my beginnings were that of a beaver

But my form has been changed just for you the receiver.

I once warmed your family and kept chills at bay

First for your Grandma; and then your Aunt Faye.

For her use as a coat for your Grandma, some scorn

And then as a jacket for her daughter was worn.

And now on to you, I am passed down in love

With best wishes and blessings of God from above.

Though I came to you from a tattered past,

My latest makeover for decades should last.

Hand-sewn and stuffed for your special day,

From West Shokan to St. Johns I come to say:

To all Muller cousins you’re special indeed

And we celebrate with you and offer this seed.

Record your life stories and events you have seen

The people you’ve met and the places you’ve been.

Write down all your memories or those that you dare

Include pictures and journals and even this bear.

                                                   

Some eyes may get teary, like dusted with dew,

As you share my beginnings with somebody new.

And who knows what bears or secrets abide

In someone’s old coat or jacket or hide.

Copyrighted 2009. 

Birds and Bees

Jim & Asher feeding birds in Florida.

It is challenging at times to come up with something to write for this blog. Not that I am a loss for words, but each time I have to evaluate what I want to say, how I should say it, who may see it and how it may be misconstrued. Hence the delays between entries.

Today I was reading another blog and it brought to mind a memory that I thought would be a great blog. Keeping in mind my kids read this and like to hear more on my childhood and our family times, and that my relatives may also see this, and friends may vary in how they take anything I write, this topic may amuse (and educate ?) all the above.

It starts in my early years of Junior High, no wait, I remember the film in elementary school, uh, oh, wait, it started actually earlier than that with a boy...no can't go there.

Ok, let's fast forward to my own kids and then back up...maybe...

One thing I vowed after getting married and even before having children, was to make sure that if I ever DID have children, I would educate them in the birds and bees and not allow them to learn by trial and error.

So, I was grateful when I learned about Dr. James Dobson's book, "Preparing for Adolescence". It was suggested that the parents read the book and then decide when the child was old enough to start a conversation or read the book together. (Nowadays there is a whole curriculum based on the book.) So I read it. I was so happy to see how it was well written and answered many questions I had had in my pre-teen years that were never answered. It also talked to the kids as young people, mature enough to handle the subject and discuss a facts of life with appropriate language and respect.

After reading the book, I decided that my eldest son was not quite ready and put it away for a year or so. Then when I felt he had matured enough, we read it together. Well, at least until the chapter about the actual process of pre-fertilization (?lol). Then I handed the book to him, told him to read the chapter and when he finished, if he had any questions, we could go over them. So he sat on his bed and read. Within about 15 minutes, he came out of his room, marched over to his dad, handed him the book and said, "Do you see what she is making me read!"

Jim read over the pages Bryan had pointed to and looked up at me and with a shocked expression on his face said, "Is he old enough for this?!?" Thank you Dr. Dobson for helping both parents start the discussion! Needless to say, Bryan learned a valuable lesson in love, life and secs (sic)...that obviously made his marriage fruitful. ;)

Several years later, while home-schooling my two youngest sons, I had to cover reproductive education (I am refraining from using the three letter word as I don't want e-stalkers Googling it and harassing me.) I was fine with that. I tried to cover the book and the lessons with both of them at the same time. Big mistake. First I gave each of them the book to read and said we would discuss it once they were finished. So we sat in the livingroom and I started the discussion with, "So, do you have any questions?" To which I got no reply. So I decided to take a different tact and started quizzing them. With the very first question, the giggles started. You would think they were a couple of girls. They kept looking at each other and breaking out in laughter. Soon we were all laughing. I think it was Dan who finally said, "Mom we already know this stuff." More giggles ensued. "Fine," I said, "Then I will continue to quiz you until I am sure I know that you do know. We did and they did!

Fast forward to time when after watching a shocking Oprah episode on what kids were "doing" these days and what the little plastic bracelets meant that they wore and what the lingo was. I asked my teen-aged son, Aaron, to confirm if what they were saying was true. He had been on his way from the kitchen to his room when he stopped and came back and said, "Mom, if think that is shocking. You don't want to know what girls are doing these days." My mouth dropped. OMG!

Now let's go way back to when I was in high school....HIGH School, mind you! I was so excited because we were being forced to take health classes. HEALTH = secs (sic). This was it. I was finally going to learn the truth of how it all works. Oh, I had read the Reader Digest book on it and knew the sperm had to fertilize the egg. The woman had the eggs, the man had the sperm. I got all that. It was how they got together that was missing from every book, every conversation, every Play-boy mag, every encyclopedia that I had ever searched. My parents (nix, that) my mom never cared to share THAT PART of the lesson on what F_ _ _ meant, when I asked her. (More on that later.) So now the Health Teacher in good old OCS (Onteora Central Schools) was going to answer my darkest question.

Okay, so first we had to get through the drug education part. I was happy to do that the first quarter only because I knew the next quarter was the one subject I had been waiting for. For my final, I did a collage of all drugs including coffee and got an A. Then the second quarter started and after a few weeks I realized, oh no, he's not going to tell us! Once again the egg, the sperm, the genitalia, transmitted diseases, birth control, blah, blah, blah. What a let down. So I took matters into my own hand....not literally, get your mind out of the gutter. And it comes time for the final. I decided to have some fun and maybe educate the teacher a tad. I did a report on prostitution using the book: "Everything you wanted to know about sex but were afraid to ask" the book that finally told me everything!  I got an A. Not only that, I received an award at the end of the year for having the highest grade in Health Class (embarrassing!).

Bear with me as I jump back in time once again to my early years. I think I was in fifth or sixth grade when a boy asked me if I wanted to f_ _ _. Wanting him to like me, I said, "Sure!" I guess my enthusiasm overwhelmed him because his next question was, "Do you even know what it means?" Sheepishly I admitted I didn't and he suggested I find out first. So that's when I went to Mom. Shocked her out of her gourd. (I have a habit of doing that with some people even today.) After her explanation, I was still not sure. Thus the start of a dialog between me and a girlfriend. These conversations went back and forth, as we shared what we learned from our parents and friends and tried to figure out this whole secs thing. Needless to say, we thought we were pregnant many times because of "The special way a boy touches a girl," that our moms failed to elaborate on.

Parents, please, talk to your children on their level when you think they are mature enough (and that's probably younger than you think) and be factual, be thorough, be open, and if you can't -- get the book, "Preparing for Adolescence".

In Search of the Rain Forest...

Asher Rain Bell

Today it finally poured several times and gave us much needed rain. I LOVE the rain! I should clarify that, I love rain storms. I can't stand the prickly rainfalls or mists that hardly seem worth the effort. But give me a good, drenching rain and a cup of Chai and I am a happy camper. Ah, take that back. Probably the only time I do not like a good soaking rain is when I am camping. Especially when I am camping with kids or the tent leaks. {{{{ugggghhhh}}}}.

When I was a youngster, I used to sit on our front porch and watch the rain. Wow, that's a memory I really have to dig for! My dad had a lounge chair out there and sometimes we would sit together, not saying anything. Other times I think I may have talked my head off, but he didn't seem to mind. When it would stop raining, I remember running out to our dirt driveway to make river-lets for the water to run down. I found myself doing that years later in our back yard and couldn't believe the joy I found in doing it!

To listen to rain outside the window in the summer has such a calming effect on me. Doesn't everyone sleep better when it rains? Okay, maybe not during a thunderstorm or raging winds, but a nice steady rain. As I get older I find I sleep later -- that being until 7:30, not my usual 5:00 AM -- when it rains. And then I still want to just roll over and snuggle under the covers and listen.

I don't mind being out in the rain either, as long as I am prepared for it. Once I got stuck doing my office calls in the pouring rain. My pants were soaked from the knees down. Yes I had a raincoat, yes, I had an umbrella, but the rain came down sideways. Not only that, my pants were long enough that just getting in and out of the car, they were sucking up the puddles!

I love kids who stomp in puddles. (Of course, I like it better when they are not mine or my responsibility, lol.) Unless kids are on their way to church or some other dressy place, who cares! The mud washes out, they can change out of the wet clothes (especially if you carry and extra set with you). As long as it's not a frigid winter day, go stomp, I say. Have you happened to notice kids are magically drawn to them anyway!

I am amused by folks, mostly women, who are so afraid to get their hair wet in the rain. None can beat my hair when it's wet on a humid day. Frizzzzy! If I can tolerate it, anyone can. I always yell to folks standing and waiting for it to stop before they run to their destination or cars: "It's only water!"

Don't comment and say anything about acid rain....I don't want to hear it, okay?

Anyway, I know just few others who enjoy the rain as much as I do. It was such a shock for me to learn my son and his wife, Jessica, LOVE the rain. They may even love it more than I do, as they gave their second son, Asher, the middle name Rain. Asher Rain -- doesn't that just sound poetic? I remember when Asher was just learning to talk and he told his mom, "I wuv the wain, Mommy. I wuv it on my head and on my arms and on my back." Now does that kid live up to his name or what!

My kinda kid. Maybe when he's older we will snuggle up together during a hefty rain storm and read a good book , or maybe just sit and watch it pour down, or better yet, go find a puddle to jump into! Aah, a taste of heaven.

(Photo above taken by his dad.)

My Cup of Tea

Every morning I enjoy a delicious cup of Chai Tea as a part of my routine.

I had my first cup of Chai when I worked at the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY. The tiny yoga teacher (whose name escapes me at the moment) invited me to her house for lunch and made me a cup. I watched as she ground fresh ginger into a pot of hot water with a mixture of tea and spices and heated it up. Once hot, she poured in a huge amount of milk and heated until it was very warm. Then she filled two mugs and yum!

She did share the recipe, but I have never been able to duplicate the delicious smooth cup she made for me that day. Through the years since, I have taste-tested many Chai teas in restaurants and coffee shops. Little did I know I was on the cutting edge, when I tasted that first cup. Because now it appears every respectable coffee shop has an offering of Chai tea or Chai Tea Latte (which is probably what I really had the first time).

On a trip to our favorite book store, Barnes and Noble, we discovered they had Chai tea. Jim and I ordered two cups and while it was a bit sweet, we could taste the delicious spices that were calmed by the warm milk. On the counter we noticed a container of Tazo Chai Tea and considered buying it. I am not sure why we didn’t, but for some reason we just drank their tea. About a month or so later, Jim bought me a container of Tazo Chai Tea for my birthday. I have been addicted ever since.

At our worst addiction level, we were having a cup of tea every morning and another at “High Tea” between three and four in the afternoon on those cold winter days. Nothing warms you up or calms you down, like a cup of hot Chai tea. After I noticed a few extra pounds creeping on, I decided I needed to cut down. So we dropped the afternoon tea and just had a large mug of it at breakfast.

Be mindful however, that the warm milk relaxes one so much that you may want to return to bed after a soothing cup!

So now I sit here at my computer, doing my crossword puzzle, reading my daily blogs, catching upon the latest news drinking my delicious cup of hot Chai Tea Latte.

What could be better?

BTW, we did cut down on the Chai we added to make our cups. The directions on the package called for way too much Chai. So now it is a perfect cup of early morning soothing tea. Also it helps to ask the coffee shops how many "pumps" they make their Chai with and have them cut back one or two. Otherwise it's just a bit too sweet.

Care for a cup?