PROUD OF MY HERITAGE

Note: Each year, Studio B art gallery in Boyertown, PA puts on a theme-based exhibit, and publishes an anthology of art and writing with that theme in mind. This writing was a submission for this year's online anthology: "I Am - Proud to B--You and Me."

When I attended Catholic school, I learned about “the seven deadly sins,” one of which was pride. “Pride” in that context meant a grand, arrogant sense of self, and entitlement to treat others in controlling and harmful, maybe even "deadly" ways! Aside from the religious connotations of pride, there also seems to be a stigma associated with being proud of and/or demonstrating pride in who we are, what we do or have accomplished—maybe out of caution to be as modest and humble as we “should” be. However, expressing pride in the good of our lives, letting our little (or large) light shine can be a positive experience, both in the sharing, and hearing from others. Such stories can motivate us to do even better and imagine what is possible.

While there is still criticism of those who have come a long way with enormous obstacles and challenges to be able to say they are proud of who they are or have become, there was a shift in the late 60s/early 70s--a social revolution really. For the first time, various groups organized and came forward--encouraged to embrace pride and to express it--even to celebrate their individuality, race, gender and/or ethnicity and to work toward civil/human rights and equality. In doing so, they challenged how they were perceived, portrayed and/or discriminated against. “Black is beautiful” was an affirmative slogan; women spoke of breaking through the “glass ceiling,” and not being seen as sex objects; Native Americans made known the many problems confronting reservation tribes; gay and lesbian folks were coming out of “hiding,” rejecting the criminalization, discrimination and/or shaming of their gender and/or sexual orientation. 

        When Studio B, a local cultural center called for writing  expesseing what we are proud of, I could not wait to learn what others take pride in. I had never really thought to speak or write about what I am proud of, though I have often felt pleased about many areas of my life. Right off, I thought of pride in family accoplishments: My husband Robert’s having been a combat artist in Vietnam, and the body of soulful and masterful work he has created since. I felt pride that I was able to earn a BA and MA while working and raising a family. I am proud of our two sons’ natural abilities and acquired skills, now working in professions they love, and in which they are able to support themselves and their families. I am proud of our four grandchildren for their creativity and kindness--all growing up and, no doubt, will have much to contribute to the world.

        I am proud of my country’s laws and institutions that, while they may need monitoring and improvement always, are still working to identify and bring to justice those who would dismantle what has been built and fought for. I am proud of my community’s many initiatives working for the common good—focusing on our similarities, rather than our differences, providing informative, creative, cultural, educational activities and events, such as Studio B has.

After much thought to what I am most proud of, I can say: I am most proud of my heritage. Both my paternal and maternal grandparents emigrated to America from Italy in the late 1800s, leaving everything behind—never to return to home and homeland, family, friends, neighbors, and cultural roots. They had not much to bring with them of material value, but what they did bring with them them were courage, fortitude, and faith that they would succeed in their desire and need for a better life. 

        How? by working hard and long, enduring whatever it took to orient themselves in a new world, at first speaking no English and with no highly marketable skills. My paternal grandfather worked as a janitor in a school outside of Philadelphia. My maternal grandfather worked in a shoemaker’s shop. Both grandmothers raised children, kept house, made meals, baked bread, planted and maintained gardens, put up the harvest for the winter and much more. They had no luxuries, no sick days, no vacations, no “time off.” Their homes were heated only by fireplaces or pot belly stoves, but they were cozy, and we were welcomed with open arms. They, as most Immigrants (even now if possible) became part of an existing ethnic community which supported their transition in many ways, while still honoring their own traditions.

I am proud that I come from such heritage (as many of us do)—from adventurous souls with the necessary bravery and determination (and probably lots of fear and anxiety) to work toward a better future. They became American citizens, but often discriminated against and sometimes from one ethnic group to another. And they did make the best of life, little by little. No matter the challenges, obstacles and setbacks, they carried on. In doing so, they helped make America become a more perfect union, built by the “tired, poor, and huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” They were welcomed under the “lifted lamp” of the Statue of Liberty “beside the golden door!”

    America was the “golden door,” hopefully, not yet too tarnished to remember the huddled masses—those who, given the opportunity in dire circumstances, demonstrate extraordinary strength and perseverance. My immigrant ancestors (and many of yours, no doubt) were extraordinary. They were grateful, as we are, to endure, sacrifice, and to model and pass on the values of education, work ethic, faith, hope, kindness, and love. Of course, the greatest of these is love.

Now, in only the third and fourth generations since my grandparents' arrival, their extended families have that better life they had envisioned. I am so very proud to be a descendant of such heroic stock. 

Grazie mille (many thanks) to my Italian grandparents: paternal - Else Arnone and Giuseppe Rotondo, and maternal - Mini and Ricardo Speranza. And to my husband Robert’s Italian grandparents: paternal - Maria de Martino and Antonio DiGugliermo, and Polish maternal - Wielkie dzięki! (many thanks) - Stephania Suchodolski and Witold Skowronski.

And a thank you also to Studio B for the opportunity to honor them here, and for many of us to share and to hear about our sources of pride. 

ROAD HOME

Written 7/9/23 after second open heart surgery

The road home

turns, twists

on rugged ground.

You stumble you fall

Don’t look back—

to where you left the door ajar 

to let the light in

gradually becoming aware

you would be leaving the place 

where you were you—

         belonging

Don’t look ahead

It is hard now

You are here

on the road to another place

not far but long to travel

on unfamiliar terrain

not knowing who you will be

when you arrive

Keep going

the winding road 

Is illuminated by stars

that no longer exist

Don’t look back

RED GERANIUM

A variation on Sylvia Plath’s“Tulips”

Red geranium

it's the red geranium

excitable explosion

red blood red

the red geranium--

 lifts me

with breathing color

healing my heart open

for love of 

the red geranium

the red geranium

Moon

 

Moon unfurls her cloudy sails.

All night, a silver ship of light

rises on the sea of sky

drifting window to window,

then sinks below the horizon.

PICTURES AND PARABLES,

Behold, a sower went forth to sow, and when he sowed, some seeds fell by the wayside, and the fowls came and devoured them up. Some fell upon stoney places, where they had not much earth, and forthwith they sprung up, but because they had no deepness of earth, and when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them. But others fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some an hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear. (Matthew 12:3-9 KJV)

    

The sower/seed parable above is affirmation of the familiar saying, "a picture is worth a thousand words.” It is replete with images that reveal more than words alone can. We also find such analogical images in and through stories, myth, poetry, plays, film, music and song. Whichever way we experience pictures, even those in our memory or imagination, they have power to evoke feelings, associations and meaning, and may even reveal truths and wisdom to live by.

The sower/seed parable conveys a reality that knowledge/truth may be received, understood, or not. Its wisdom is contained in the image of seeds that must fall on fertile ground in order to root, sprout, grow and bear fruit. It presents a literal, as well as a figurative reality, to ponder and maybe to inspire us to be that fertile ground.

The fertile ground is none other than our imagination, and our intellect’s capacity for seeking a deeper understanding. Some of us, at times, are disposed to be fertile ground; some of us learn through our life experiences, and perhaps have cultivated our capacity to receive what there is to be learned. Some of us, at times, for a variety of reasons and circumstances, are not fertile ground, and therefore the seeds of truth or wisdom do not to take root, sprout, blossom and bear fruit.

Is there a way to cultivate that capacity in ourselves and others? I believe so, and is a feature we may practice and develop or guide others to. Is it not the task of teachers, parents, clergy, or other trusted sources, to offer seeds of wisdom and knowledge to “fertilize” the imagination and intellect to receive seeds of practical, cultural, social and moral import for living a life of goodness, truth and beauty, also aware of the common good. 

A true teacher, spiritual or otherwise, may prepare fertile ground through providing experiences which exercise, develop and expand the imagination and intellect (critical thinking), while being vigilant for and respectful of individuals' freedom to discover on their own. Lively lessons and experiences engage minds, hearts and hands and impart a capacity to develop, expand and deepen the ground of imagination, inspiration, intuition and intellect. 

Such seeds will not be left to “scorch” or “wither,” as the Biblical parable suggests. Rather, they will live on wordlessly, "speaking" to the feeling, thinking, willing—with ears open to hear.

        Thus are our ears are opened to hear, our eyes to see and fertile ground prepared. 

NOT FADE AWAY

 Nothing, but energy is lasting, neither in the material world, nor in memory over time. I am thinking of precious mementos we keep and treasure, sometimes taking them out to hold to our hearts and remember those from whom we received them. Those treasures, however seemingly ordinary to others, sustain, enrich and deepen our tentative, yet tenacious, grasp on life—and on the everlasting energy of a life and love.

These thoughts come to me the day after Christmas (2022) on hand of a card our grandson, Finn (15 at this writing), made for us, his grandparents—me (Nonna) and my husband (Juju). This is the very kind of treasure of which I speak. His card may be kept for a generation or two after I have “shuffled off this mortal coil,” but with no one to truly know or remember what it has meant to me. Its memory and meaning will be lost.

But what it represents will never fade away?

 

Dear Nonna and Juju,

I love you so extremely much. I am so grateful

or all the Christmases we have had together

and will have the rest to come. Merry Christmas

from your #1 grandson, Finn.

I will treasure this thing of beauty for Finn’s creativity, the effort put into it, its message, but, most of all, for the shared love it represents. While the card itself may be lost or forgotten in time, the love it represents will remain beyond this earthly plane. I believe that.

        “Love that’s love not fade away” is a line from a song “Not Fade Away,” made famous in the 1957 by Buddy Holly, and again by the Rolling Stones in1964.

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks/But bears it out even to the edge of doom” are lines from my favorite Shakespeare sonnet, #116, which also expresses in a more formal way that love is everlasting. I imagine throughout time there have been infinite mentions of and references lasting love—in literature, poetry, song, philosophy, and in sacred texts.

“In every religion there is love, yet love has no religion.” (Rumi)

Any distortions of love, or inability to express it dissolves in the perpetual light of love that is always with us, shining upon us beyond space and time.

When my sister and I were clearing our parents’ house after they had passed away, we found a notebook my mother kept toward the end of her life, containing her familiar sense of humor, as well as sentiments she never would have expressed out loud. There were words, oddly enough, from a song called “That’s All She Wrote” Our mother wrote that the "laughter didn’t outweigh all the tears."

There was a note she kept from our brother who had left it on the keyboard he played saying that he would never play music again. It must have been his realization that a once-enjoyable talent, ambition and interest were now eclipsed by his addiction to drugs and alcohol. He died from an overdose.

My sister and I gathered the journal, note, and other papers that, while maybe not precious treasures per se, were undoubtedly expressions in one way or another, of an underlying  love that wanted to express itself in an untenable situations--that could not be understood or explained. one cold winter night we put them in the fireplace and wwith a wish that all the sadness in the house, harsh things said and left unsaid would dissipate in the rising smoke to be received by the heavens, where only love remains.

Is there proof that love is eternal, connects us beyond this earthy plane? Do we just want to believe that it is? These are questions we may ask, doubts we may have. I believe, while the precious things we hold dear in life are after all, just things, the energy of the precious love they represent is does not fade away. Whenever there has been true love, a soul connection, it is eternal.

When our loved ones depart, treasured mementos are symbols of the love they have taken with them and their love they have left behind with us.

        Remembering them is connection.

I know intuitively that this is so and is affirmed by my experience of love over a lifetime. While I remain on this earthly plane, I will cherish Finn’s card, a reminder that our shared love is forever—simply, but aptly, reflected in the lines of a song: 

“Love that’s love not fade away”

and a sonnet:

 “Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

LET THERE BE LIGHT

Is it coincidence that two religious holidays, Chanukah and Christmas occur around the time of the Winter Solstice? That is a question to be asked, (not to be answered here), but certainly we can say that those celebrations and the Winter Solstice involve Light and what Light represents to us as human beings. Winter Solstice this year will occur at 4:47 p.m. EST on December 21st, marking the moment of turning in the rhythm of nature from the shortest, darkest day of the year to earlier sunrises and later sunsets--more light each day—even through the coldest months of year in the Northern Hemisphere.

Light is Life

Light is universally symbolic of the spirit of life in all of us.

This little light of mine

I’m gonna let it shine*

Gods, angels and saints are portrayed as having halos or light surrounding them to represent divinity, holiness, purity, goodness. Light suggests transparency, clarity and truth. We think having and being with family, friends, and especially children as “lighting up our lives.” Ideas and revelations are thought of as enlightenment or illumination. The sparkling stars, silver moon and brilliant planets above are a mystery and a wonder—shining in the dark velvet sky.

Light is warm and welcoming, guiding us through the dark. We make wishes over our birthday candles; we light candles in rooms to create a mood, or light the fireplace to warm us. Whole cities are lit up for the sheer beauty and magic of it.

 Paris, City of Light

 

Light is often an integral part of religious traditions, rituals and services, such a fervent prayer when lighting a votive candle in a churche, the lighting of the menorah during the nights of Chanukah, the festival of lights, commemorating a long ago miracle celebrated around the time of the Winter Solstice. During this time of year homes and shop windows are illuminated with twinkling lights. In town squares, people gather for festive tree lightings and song, as all gather with "light-hearts." Some light an Advent candle each week in December awaiting Christmas morning.

Candle, candle, burning bright

Shining in the cold winter night

Candle, Candle burning bright

   Fill our hearts with Christmas light**

Tree Lighting at Dock Square, Rockport, MA

And who has not marveled in awe at the luminous skies and ribbons of colors at sunset and sunrise.

Whether or not we think of Light as symbolic, or participate in light-filled celebrations,  Winter Solstice is an astronomical phenomenon in which there is a turning from the darkest day of the year toward growing light.

Solstices and Equinoxes

While some people may be more aware of what happens astronomically four times each year, based on our planet's orbit around the Sun and tilt on its axis, most aware only of the change of seasons they usher in for the Northern Hemisphere.

• Vernal equinox (about March 21): day and night of equal length, marking the start of spring

• Summer solstice (June 20 or 21): longest day of the year, marking the start of summer

• Autumnal equinox (about September 23): day and night of equal length, marking the start of autumn

• Winter solstice (December 21 or 22): shortest, darkest day of the year, marking the start of winter ()Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc.

The Winter and Summer Solstices mark when the Sun’s path in the sky is the farthest north or south from the Equator. Winter Solstice occurs when the Sun appears at it lowest elevation in the sky. whereas at Summer Solstice it appears at its highest arc. Equinoxes occur when day and night are of equal lengths.The halfway points between Solstices and Equinoxes are called "cross-quarter days," observed on Candlemas/Groundhog Day, May Day, All Souls' Day or Halloween. All of these occurrences have inspired both religious/spiritual observances, as well as awareness of astronomical natural and rhythms in our planetary system.

For millennia, these “heavenly, ”and momentous  events have celebrated their natural and supernatural significance with cultural traditions, rituals, fire festivals, superstitions, story, song, dance, artwork and more. Megalithic structures, such as Stonehenge (and many others around the world) were certainly built in part to align with these astronomical events, which were also gauges for practical activities to sustain life ways, such as animal breeding, hunting, planting and harvesting crops.

Stonehenge at Winter Solstice

No matter what our relationship with Light, conscious or subconscious, we live in and by the light, long for the warmth, take hope and comfort in the light eclipsing the darkness in 

 our lives—inner and outer.

Wishing everyone the love and light of this time of year and peace, joy and good will with the coming of the light.

* https://www.godtube.com/popular-hymns/this-little-light-of-mine/
**Advent Song© 1975 Mary Lu Walker

WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS NOW

What does the world need now? Maybe super heroes? We could use a few to come to our rescue in times of need (which is always), and now in these times with challenges in every direction. If only super heroes could swoop in to save lives, put out wildfires, hold back tsunamis, stop evildoers, bring peace of mind and world peace—with their powers of super strength, super senses and super feats, magic or miracles. Alas, we have no superheroes to save us. What we do need are human beings with the ability to inspire. 

     What the world needs now is INSPIRATION!

     To be inspired is to be “breathed into.” Animated by inhaling the power of that breath, we begin to imagine, to envision, to hope, to believe. Inspiration is what the world needs now (and always)—a light to guide our way, to eclipse the darkness—even against the risk that darkness implies, and, ultimately, to create in the name of the beautiful, the good and the true. Unfortunately, at times, people are also inspired by ideas and thoughts that are their opposite. I believe that, knowingly or not, it is the deepest human longing to be inspired by ideals and values which serve the common good. Only then can we find the courage to eclipse the darkness.  

If we agree inspiration is what the world needs now, can we even begin to imagine who it is, or what it would take to inspire people, a nation, the world? Where are the likes of, for example, Abraham Lincoln, Eleanor Roosevelt, Mohandas Ghandi, Martin Luther King, John F. Kennedy, Nelson Mandela, Mother Theresa, or even Mr. Rogers? Can we believe there will be others like them again? They came from different places and perspectives, for different reasons, but all were both leaders and servants. Some spoke truth to power; others advocated for unity, freedom, equality and justice; cared for the sick and dying; modeled patience and kindness to children. They were selfless, persistent, clear thinkers and effective organizers who inspired many to confront complex challenges. Most admirable was their light-inspired human spirit shining through.  

     True, they could not leap tall buildings with a single bound, or display other superhuman powers. What they did do was become inspired themselves and tap into the essence of their humanity to put a cause ahead of themselves. What lives they lived! How they fought despite the risks! They inspired others with the truth of their vision, which manifested in small and large ways over their lifetimes. It is well to remember though that three of those mentioned above were assassinated, and one was unjustly imprisoned for years. There is a price to pay for attempting to bring light into darkness, for following inspiration founded in dedicating one’s life to that end—sometimes “costing not less than everything.” (T.S. Eliot)

     Their conscience did not allow them to stand by and do nothing, or to live in fear or for power, fame and wealth. Their inspiration came from knowing they were connected to others, that we are all ultimately connected, which gave them the courage to work toward social justice, inclusion, independence, healing and comfort for the dying, and even a quiet (but needed) message to millions of children that they are individually special, yet part of a larger neighborhood. 

     We are the "neighborhood," a human family spinning in dark, cold infinite space, from where our majestic planet without marked boundaries can be seen, where we are at least ONE in the spirit, recognized or not. We are not, however, as naive to believe there will be world peace, or that we could all “just get along,” but we could agree to strive to be civil, kind and fair as individuals, communities and nations, and, by the way, be examples to our children in our right speech, right thought and right action toward others. 

Look around us, and we may find others in our lives and communities who inspire and motivate us. We may find that we are more similar than different, that we are connected to each other, to nature and to the universe in ways we may not comprehend.

     I am inspired by these words. Maybe they will inspire you too?

Neither stars nor stones, neither atoms nor waves, but their belonging together, their interaction, the relation of all things to one another constitutes the universe. No cell could exist alone, all bodies are interdependent, affect and serve one another… even rocks… are full of unappreciated kindness, when their strength holds up a wall.      

*Heschel, Abraham Joshua. Man Is Not Alone. Farrar, Straus and Geroux

TRUE

We

dreaming light and waking in the dark

perpetually relive The Fall

eternally recreate Creation

sun dance

receive revelation

asleep and awake--all

We

lost in the belly of the whale

seduced like Europa

carried over ocean swells

Leda in the rushes

crushed under the swan's white weight

Dante in the dark wood

la direta via era smarita

Abandoning hope

emerging into starlight

It’s all true for you and me

(and everyone we know)

Look!

See if is not so--

being human amid polarities

And we have trod the earth--an armed race

with fire to illuminate or incinerate

since forever

we carry and create images

of exile

 of paradise

longing to return

VINTAGE

Still Life ~Robert Williams

Now

a time with little of it left

I gather gently to my breast

all my life crammed into ​​given space

not to sort as pictures in a box

into tidy stacks by time and place

but as Harvest do they come

their ​random ​fruits to trace

remembrances to keep

what I sowed, what I reaped

how and whom I loved

when and where

what was given me to bear

what was taken, what received

of all I once too easily believed--

A maze it seemed I thought I knew

in all directions I could choose​​

​ ​but was a labyrinth I wandered through

​along its ​unicursal ​way of hope and fear

leading to the center

now and here

​​I reminiscence with gratitude, in joy, in pain

at times mythologizing all that’s been

or seeing clearly parts I played

in life’s grand drama

self and heaven made