Dreams May Die

It's been a long year.  My grand-nephew James was born at the beginning of the year, bringing great joy and happiness to all our family. We celebrated birthdays and christenings, and vacationed in Stone Harbor/Avalon in New Jersey.  Sadly, in October, Mark's mom, Louise, passed away.  Although she had some medical problems, it was unexpected and difficult.  Family is so important at times like that.  We felt wrapped in the love from our families.  I am so awed by the unexpected kindnesses that came from different portions of our family.  I love you all.

Even though it's been exactly a year since we were in France, it seems like a lifetime ago. How fast things fade from your memory!  Death has a way of readjusting all your priorities.  When clearing away all the things that one accumulates in a lifetime, you keep asking - what is really important in my life?  What are the things that define me?  What are the things that matter?  What do I want my kids to think is important enough not to throw into a box and give to a charity?  Is my life so cluttered, they would never be able to find the important things?

All the things I've been putting off sorting, getting rid of, donating, and selling, I'm doing it now.

I've made an interesting discovery in the process.  I love photography.  Once upon a time I had a dream.  I've wanted a darkroom since I was about 16 years old.  I always felt like a real photographer when I was in the darkroom.  When I got married, every birthday and Christmas present for about 3 years was a piece to complete my darkroom.  I bought the enlarger with great care and family members would buy different pieces - the trays, the squeeges, the thermometers, the developing tanks, the safelights. My 3 year old nephew suggested he could buy me a light for my darkroom, so that I could see :)  My first darkroom in Baltimore was in our basement, on a board that was mounted over the washer and dryer when not in use. 

After moving back to Pittsburgh, my father-in-law built me a darkroom in our house.  It had a door, it was a real room.  It had two counters, and a light fixture for the safelight, with a special light switch, to turn off the safelight and turn on the white light, replicating the darkroom I worked in at my high school, when I was Photography Editor of the yearbook.  But my children were little and I didn't have a lot of time to work in it, but I still had the dream.  I showed my niece and nephew how to make a sunprint and used the darkroom to develop the print.  I printed some photos of my oldest son that I had taken in b&w.  I kept telling myself that there would be time soon for me to work in the darkroom.

When we moved to our present house in 1995 and finished the basement, I made sure we built another darkroom, exactly like the one my FIL had built for me in our old house.  I was still determined to find the time to get into the darkroom. I bought chemicals and developed some film.  Soon, I kept telling myself.

Shortly after that, the world went digital.  People could print photos at home.  Adobe created Lightroom - a computer darkroom.  I got my own digital camera when I started doing virtual tours.  As the years went by, I realized I enjoyed using the computer to play with photos.  In the last year, I've begun to admit to myself that maybe I should get rid of my darkroom, but I was afraid to say it out loud, afraid I was giving up.  When I did, the world didn't end.  There was no earthquake.  And my heart didn't break.

I did an inventory last week of all my darkroom equipment, having made up my mind to get rid of it.  It's not worth much these days.  I realized that the enlarger is still wrapped in the same plastic bag that I put on it when I moved it 15 years ago.  I haven't opened it since we moved.

What was I waiting for?   Somehow, having the dream and achieving the dream are not the same thing.  Time has just passed by and what was once my largest dream has changed with time. Spending the time with my children when they were little was more important than spending that time in my darkroom.  Letting go of my darkroom does not mean I do not love photography, or that I don't want to develop photos.  I am just changing the way I do it.  Changing with the times, using the technology of the decade.  I really didn't miss anything, and getting rid of my stuff will not make me less of a photographer. I will survive without the stuff. 

"...There never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do, once you find them."
                                                                                                                                                 Jim Croce



 Next: Vienne and Lyon
 

Tournon & Tain L'Hermitage

So much has happened in the last few months. We've had a new addition to our family and he's forever changed who we are. I'll write more about him in another post so I can devote myself properly to the subject.
It seems like eons ago that we went to France. I want to finish writing about our trip (mostly so I'll remember it), so I'll pick it up at Tournon sur Rhone and Tain L'Hermitage.

We finally had a morning of sailing. It was a beautiful day and we had a chance to meet some of our fellow Viking travelers above deck.


We were able to experience going through a lock firsthand. It was actually the 8th one we've been through and we still have 7 more on the trip up the Rhone and down the Saone. It's really impressive how they work. My sister Patty attended a Captain's tour of the Wheelhouse, where you could meet Captain Dario Weber from Belgium. As soon as we saw him, we decided he looked like Moondoggie, and if you don't understand that reference, you're just too young! Sigh!

Our views were of vineyards and funny shaped trees and clear blue water and blue blue skies and of course castles. When we docked it was next to another ship, with about 6 inches of space between them.

Mark and Patty and I went for a walk in the town of Tournon. Chrissie stayed behind, feeling a little under the weather. The shops were closed for lunch, and stayed closed from about 11:00am till almost 2:00pm. There was a statue of Marc Seguin, who invented a Steam Engine and designed a European suspension bridge across the Rhone. We walked toward a huge castle built right into the hillside, where the museum had closed for the season the week before. The castle was built between the 14th and 16th centuries. There were loads of cute shops and eateries (all closed) and we saw our first sportsbar in this little town.

After a lunch break on the boat, Chrissie rejoined us and we went on the guided tour in the afternoon, and walked across the Marc Seguin pedestrian footbridge to Tain l'Hermitage on the opposite side of the Rhone river. Here we stopped at a small museum, Musee Palue, whose owner sells paintings of her father's, who was an artist. She spoke to us in French and the guide interpreted for her. Our tour guide wore a leopard coat with black boots and sunglasses and the whole experience was so... French. We met the bus, who then took us to the top of the hill beyond the sloped vineyards to a local winery in Tain L'Hermitage for our wine tasting. They showed us their wine cellars and explained how the wine was made, then we tasted 3 different kinds.

After wine, of course, what tastes better than chocolate? We stopped at the Chocolaterie Valrhona, a company that sells chocolate and also has a school for professional chefs focusing on chocolate dishes and pastries. There were free samples as well as a large selection of delicious chocolate. This one was tough, I had to find something for the boys, small enough to carry home. I settled on circular discs, but I should have bought the flat boxes they had instead. It didn't really matter, it was all great. (By the way, you can buy this chocolate on Amazon - it tasted better than any chocolate I've ever had, and can you believe this, I've had a lot?)

Back to the boat, where again, we eat a sumptuous dinner and get ready for the next day's adventure.

Next: Vienne and Lyon

Avignon and Provence

Lucky for us, the river level went down and we were able to set sail for Avignon that evening.  The ship sailed past Avignon first, so we could see the bridge of St. Benezet, better known as the Pont d'Avignon, and the town at night.  We started each morning with a generous breakfast in the dining room.  Hot tea (really hot tea) was served from a pot, and we could choose from eggs, waffles, thinly sliced hams, granola and yogurt, various fruit juices, to a great chocolate chip muffin that I just had to have every morning.  Then it was back to the stateroom to lace up our tennis shoes and get ready for the trip of the day.

Today's shore excursion was in Avignon, in an area known as the Provence, famous for their lavender.  We didn't get to see the lavender in bloom, but bought some wonderfully scented lavender soap here.  The walls that surrounded the town extend for three miles.

Inside the "old town" that has been preserved is the Palais de Popes (Palace of the Popes) where the Popes lived in the 1300's. 

It is a huge structure at almost 50.000 square feet.  They told us it took 20 years to build this incredible stone palace.  We were allowed to take pictures everywhere except the rooms where there was fabric on the walls, or in the Sacristy.  The flashes (just like sunlight) would further deteriorate the fabric, so it's not permitted.  The rooms were cavernous, and a fireplace took up an entire wall.

Next to that was a cathedral called Notre-Dame-des-Doms, that has a golden statue that was placed on top in the 19th century.

Naturally, on our way out of this elegant palace, there was a gift shop, that sold everything from wine to knightly gear to pens with the pope on top.  I bought a jelly jar cover with Avignon embroidered on top, to try and keep to my pledge that everything I bought would be fabric or flat (so it would fit in the suitcase). 

The Eglis Saint-Pierre is one of the most beautiful churches in Avignon, is located in the center of the city. It was built at the beginning of the 16th century. A few years later, in 1551, the wooden doors were added.  When we walked in the church, it smelled of incense and was breathtaking  It is famous for it's Gothic facade and the solid walnut doors.  Along both sides of the church are chapels dedicated to saints. 

I was so awed by the beauty that I only took one picture of the inside of the church. 

We walked through an indoor market, that had everything from chocolates to poultry and fruits.  We walked down the Rue des Teinturiers, a beautiful and picturesque street in Avignon, that runs next to the canal and saw the Chapelle des Penitents Gris, a monastery that is still active today and the Couvent des Cordeliers, Avignon's largest convent when it was founded in 1929.

 The street has giant plane trees, resembling the American sycamore tree.

On our way back to the boat, we walked the 'Rue de la Republique', the main street in Avignon.  There were stores and shops but we didn't have time to look at them.  I think we bought lavender soap on the way.  Once back at the boat, we set sail for Viviers while some of our cruise people went to a wine tasting at the Chateauneuf du Pape. That evening, Mark and Chrissie went on the Viviers walk.  They enjoyed it immensely.  It is a medieval town with a cathedral at the top of the hill, St. Vincent.  I was just too tuckered out to walk another step.

Next: Tournon & Tain L'Hermitage

Bonjour! Comment allez-vous?

Hello everyone!  How are you?  As you can see from my title, I'm under the French influence, since my sisters and my husband and I just returned from France 3 weeks ago.  It was a wonderful trip, full of adventures and a journey into history that was awe-inspiring.

It always seems the worst part of a trip is the plane ride, hardly worth mentioning, except for the fact that my sister Chrissie, who has been practicing her French, got her first chances to use it here.  As we ran for our flight from Paris to Marseilles, and had to go through security check in again, we would have missed the plane, except that she asked an attendant (in French) if it was possible to make our flight that left in 45 minutes.  We were then fast tracked to an empty security check in and were aboard our Air France flight to Marseilles with time to spare.  The cutest moment was Chrissie telling the male flight attendant in French that she needed two waters because we were very thirsty from running for the flight.  He was smiling at her attempts to speak French and seemed to appreciate it.

We flew into Marseille airport and took a bus to embark on our ship.  We were taking a Viking Cruise of Southern France, starting in Avignon and stopping at several points along the way north.  When we arrived on the boat it was docked in Arles, instead of Avignon, because it had been raining for three straight days and they were not certain we'd be able to travel from our spot, unless the river went down.  After we arrived, we headed to the dining room for a splendid meal, and finally got some rest after traveling for 24 straight hours since leaving Pittsburgh.

The next morning, bright and early we were scheduled for a guided tour through Arles, a city that has roots back to the year 730.  We had receivers with earpieces to hear our guides, so we could follow at a distance to take photos.  As long as we could still hear our guide we were within walking distance of the group.

Portions of a wall that surrounded the city still exist and we visited a Roman arena from the 1st century that is still used today for bullfighting.  They have 2 kinds of bullfights there, one where the bull is killed, and the second, where the bullfighter tries to pin a rosette on the bull, and the bull gets to win in this fight, and is not killed.  We were able to go in and sit in the seats while they explained about the bullfights.  Imagine, here we were sitting in an arena that was around in the time of the Roman Empire.  Quite amazing, when you stop to think about it.

 Arles was also home to painter Vincent Van Gogh for a year.  During his stay, he painted 150 paintings and over 100 drawings.  We saw several spots that he made famous in his paintings and visited the hospital where he spent time after he cut off his ear.  This yellow cafe was one of his paintings.

 We passed the Antique Theater of Arles that was still standing and in amazing shape.  We visited the Cloitre of Saint Trophime where monks had lived.  The architecture was just gorgeous.

The streets are incredibly tiny and a car would come speeding around a bend when a tour group was walking down the street.  When we reached the center of town, an accordion player was serenading us in the town square.  We wanted to go in and look at the church, but it was closed at noon, so we missed that.

Our guided tour ended and with the afternoon free, we chose to shop a little before going back to the ship. 

Since this is the first day of walking, at this point, my feet were killing me.  I needed to stop and take some ibuprofen and put a heel pad in my shoe so I could make it back to the boat.  I put my camera away and we were on our way back to the ship.  I was concentrating on walking and how exhausted I was.  But when we walked past a set of steps I just sighed and said, stop, I have to take a picture of this.  It was calling to me.  I got my camera back out of my bag and took what Mark said is his favorite photo of our entire trip.  I took one shot, this is it.

Next:  Avignon and the Popes Palace

September Already?!!!!

I should have been enjoying my tomato harvest this time of year.  My garden is an overgrowth of weeds, since I was too lazy to plant on Memorial Day weekend. Somehow, the thought of putting anything outside that would attract even more stink bugs to my yard was utterly distasteful.  So I opted out this year.  Now I'm regretting that hasty decision and hankering for the taste of a homegrown tomato. (if you have any extras you can send them my way....)

We returned in early July from our vacation at the Jersey shore.  I took the opportunity to return my shells to the ocean, although at the last minute, I caved and kept some of the pretty conch shells we had purchased. I just couldn't stand to throw them away.  Zachary, my youngest son, who is always a good sport, went with me to help get rid of the shells.  I was ok with watching him pitch the shells back into their ocean home until he handed me

one and told me I had to participate in the ceremony.  He said it was symbolic, and I needed to throw a few in. That was harder, but I prevailed and we threw the last couple shells in together, saluting my honeymoon, our  vacations, their childhoods, and all the memories.

 
This photos is one of my favorites, fashioned after a painting that was in our beach house. 

I must go down to the Sea again.....

It's amazing sometimes what treasures you find when you start de-cluttering your house. Recently, I've found seashells from different periods of our life in my own room, my kid's rooms, and in our spare room. I'm sure I had thoughts of making some kind of clear jar with seashells in it that always look cool on vacation, but would never fit into my decor. I've finally gathered them all together and asked the family to help me decide what to do with them, without just saying, "Throw them out."

First there were the shells we collected on our honeymoon - almost 33 years ago.

There were various shells collected when the kids were little in Stone Harbor, New Jersey.












Some were from Florida, on our trips to visit Grandma and Grandpap and Disney World.

 Some we purchased because the kids could never find anything this perfect and beautiful on the beach.

As the boys grew older, the shells were more select and fewer in number.

And of course there was the odd man out, a shell one of the boys bought because he thought it was gorgeous at the time, that made us laugh because of its' gaudiness.

What do we do with all of these collected shell memories?   That one shell holds the memory of our honeymoon and walking the beach together with stars in our eyes.  The other holds the memory of our children racing to the water's edge and digging frantically in the sand to find their treasures.  There's one that held a living thing when we found it, and one that Grandma and Grandpap found that was a perfect conch shell.  Some of those stones came from "digging for diamonds" in Cape May and Stone Harbor with my niece and nephew. Others bring memories of shopping at the shell store, searching for just the right shell to take home.  Some bring memories of driving home with clam shells smelling from baking in the hot sun in our car.  All bring memories of buckets and shovels and wonder eyed children who find life fascinating and joyous every moment they breathe.

Where do we put the memories of our children digging in the sand searching for treasures?  What happens to the wonder of finding that 7th clam shell, that looks just like the other 6 clam shells before it, but fills a child with elation?  Where do we throw the stones that are so smooth they make you rub them over and over again, just to feel their perfection, and keep them for a "worry stone?"  Do the memories disappear with the shells or are they in our hearts forever?

We've decided to keep our shell memories in our hearts and return the shells to the sea. This year when we visit the ocean, we're going to take the shells with us, and deposit them back in the ocean to thrill some other child in their quest for seashells. Even the ugly one. If someone finds that in the ocean they'll think they hit the jackpot. And they'll never have a clue how it got there.

Oh, wait, that last one is a soap dish! Surely I can find a place to put it?

Steelers beat Ravens, and I Scored a Genealogy Win!

The Steelers had a big day on Saturday, and so did I.

One of my hobbies is Genealogy. Some days when you're researching your family Genealogy, you move forward in the game, by finding a name here, a small piece of information, a little hint that allows you to find out more. Other days, you score a touchdown, and find a huge piece of information that alters the course of your research. Once in a while, you score the equivalent of a Steeler Win and you find that piece of information that is the ship your ancestor came over on - the name, the date or anything related to that trip they took across the ocean that was the beginning of your life here in America.

My relatives took many journeys, some from Ireland, others from Germany and some from Italy. I do most of my research on my Irish side of the family, since those are the relatives most familiar to me. If you aren't famous, like the Rooney family, your poor Irish history is pretty difficult to find, combined with sparse record keeping in the 1800's. About 2 months ago, I did score a touchdown in my Irish history by finding a lead in where my Kelly family (the Smith's of Irish names) possibly came from. I was excited and thrilled because it's the first thing I really have "discovered" on my own, without help from my genealogy cousin, who's done a ton of research before me.

In the past two months, I've been concentrating on the Italian side of my history. This is the side I know the least about, but since they came here in the 1900's, there are likely to be more records to be found. Unfortunately, even though the 1930 census became available last year, I can't find my father's family at all. This should have been easy - I thought I even knew the street they lived on - but inexplicably, they aren't there. Where could my grandparents and three children (one of those is my dad) have been in 1930? I was disappointed and discouraged, but I continued to sign on to my Ancestry account several times a week, typing in names and searching for information. I've searched the Ellis Island site and can't find anything relating to my grandfather, even though I know the approximate year he came here. The thing about researching on the Internet is that search engines are not perfect. Sometimes, finding information depends on how you type a name in or how the transcriber read the words on the ship's manifest or the census report.

The big event for this past weekend was the Steelers-Ravens playoff game. Sometimes when I watch the game, I wear earphones to hear the radio play by play, so I don't have to ask so many questions (because even after 33 years of watching this game, I don't think I'll ever understand it!) After the first half, I was frustrated, so I got up and logged onto my computer and started typing in genealogy searches. There were 15,000 matches to my grandfather's last name and with the game proceeding in my ears, I started clicking through page after page of results. The Steelers started to do well, which of course means if you're not in the room when they do well, you need to stay where you are, so their luck won't change. I'm still searching, page after page.

The Steelers score a touchdown. Well, now I'm just staying right where I am, so I don't jinx them. When I reached about page 35 in the results, I started to see his name on citizenship papers, and opened one up that I knew the second I saw it - it was him. This was my grandfather and the ship he came over on was listed and the year was close, and I'm asking myself, could it actually be him? I then went to the Ellis Island site and typed in the ship name and the date I found on the papers discovered on Ancestry and there was his name and his father (I did know he came here with his dad), and it was spelled incorrectly in a way I wouldn't have even guessed. But it was him.

And here I was, while the Steelers were winning the game and my husband and sons were yelling and cheering in the other room, and the game is blaring in my ears and I'm thinking - this is it - the ship he came over on, the date, the name of the boat and I'm scoring my own WIN in my family history. In addition, I've discovered that he came over and stayed with an uncle, so there were relatives from Italy here that I didn't even know about before, so it's an entirely new family lead to research. And I found one of the most important finds in the family history game, another name. On the ship's manifest papers, his step-mother's name is listed, and the great grandmother who was a blank space on a chart before, now has a name. Her name was Frances.