Freecycle.Org

The mission of The Freecycle Network is "to build a worldwide gifting movement that reduces waste, saves precious resources and eases the burden on our landfills while enabling our members to benefit from the strength of a larger community."
Every day the group does just that, preventing more than 500 tons of items from ending up in the trash. As The Freecycle Network points out, that would-be trash amounted to five times the height of Mount Everest in the past year alone. With Freecycle, you list items three ways: Wanted, Offered, Taken. You know that when you let go of something that no longer serves you, someone who really wants it will receive it. Collaboration that makes it easier on our sweet Mother Earth.

Space For Grace

Studies show that we secrete the stress hormone cortisol when our surroundings are in disarray. I know that when I am feeling stressed, the first thing I do is to start straightening and pruning things and a trip to the nearest Goodwill store goes a long way towards putting me back on track. I feel good when I know someone else might use the things that are no longer contributing to my sense of beauty or usefulness. Less stuff leads to more serenity. I've been inspired lately by reading articles about the minimalist movement. It means looking at things with fresh eyes and letting go of possessions that you have too many of or that don't bring as much joy as they once did.

I recently went through my pantry and came up with a small box full of things I bought but will never prepare. These went to our local food pantry. I disposed of duplicates in my kitchen drawers. Pulled clothes from my closet that I haven't put on in months. Some people have experimented with wearing only 33 items of clothing (or less!) for a certain amount of time. Most report that they were perfectly happy and few people seemed to notice they were rotating the same items. I'm not going that far but I don't need five pairs of black pants.

The gentlest way to declutter and move toward a less stressful environment is to use the Swiss Cheese approach, introduced by famous time-management specialist, Alan Lakein, in his book "How to Get Control of Your Time and Your Life."

Very often people prefer to postpone complex or unpleasant tasks than to start doing them. According to Lakein, “the underlying assumption of the Swiss cheese approach is that it is indeed possible to get something started in five minutes or less. And once you’ve started, you’ve given yourself the opportunity to keep going … Swiss cheese is supposed to lead to involvement.”

Try to do a small part of the task even if you have 5-10 minutes of free time. Returning to the task again and again during the day, week or month, you will notice that the task is moving along. And you might be amazed at how much you can accomplish with these bite-size chunks of time. And see if this doesn't boost your mood.

Thanks for the Memories

My father was a romantic. He proposed to my mother via trans-Atlantic phone call from London, where he was working for his great-uncle at a paper mill. She was living in Westfield, NJ and he sailed home for their wedding, a civil ceremony in her parents’ living room. I always wondered why such a simple wedding when she was Catholic and her parents were fairly well off. My grandfather was in the grocery business during the Depression.

I didn’t learn until my own marriage, that my father wasn’t her first husband. She would hardly tell me anything about that marriage. “A mistake,” was all she would say.

My parents sailed back to London for their honeymoon. Letters my mother wrote while sitting in a deckchair described how happy she was. She thanked her father for buying her clothes for her new life. She and my grandmother had gone on shopping trips to the City. Elaborate trousseaus were a sign of wealth and social standing during the Victorian era, before she was born:

"The society woman must have one or two velvet dresses which cannot cost less than $500 each. She must possess thousands of dollars worth of laces, in the shape of flounces, to loop up over the skirts of dresses... Walking dresses cost from $50 to $300; ball dresses are frequently imported from Paris at a cost of from $500 to $1,000... There must be traveling dresses in black silk, in pongee, in pique, that range in price from $75 to $175... Evening robes in Swiss muslin, robes in linen for the garden and croquet, dresses for horse races and yacht races, dresses for breakfast and for dinner, dresses for receptions and parties..." from "Lights and Shadows of New York" by James McCabe, 1872.

"A visiting and reception dress was of maroon velvet, trimmed with wide bands of cocks' feathers of the same shade. A second rich costume was of black brocaded silk and plain silk …" -- from "Miss Vanderbilt's Trousseau," Harper's Bazar, December 15, 1877

My mother’s trousseau was not nearly as grand as during Victorian times, but I’m sure it was very elegant.

My father had managed to find them a flat in Dolphin Square before he left London for his wedding. Dolphin Square is a block of private apartments built near the River Thames in London. It was completed the year they were married, 1937. A.P. Herbert, 'Dolphin Square', 1935, described the Square as 'a city of 1250 flats, each enjoying at the same time most of the advantages of the separate house and the big communal dwelling place'; the provision of a restaurant made him fear that 'fortunate wives will not have enough to do. A little drudgery is good for wives, perhaps. The Dolphin lady may be spoiled'. This booklet was produced as a promotional puff for the firm that owned and built the complex. On purchasing the site, Richard Rylandes Costain remarked to a colleague: ‘in two or three years we'll either drive up to this spot in a Rolls-Royce, or we'll be standing here selling matches.’

They were very happy at Dolphin Square. It wasn’t long before my mother announced to my father she wanted either a baby or a dog. They named their black cocker spaniel Dixie and my mother dressed in one of her many new outfits, complete with a feathered hat, to walk Dixie around the manicured gardens.

They would have stayed in London if the war hadn’t intervened. Soon, nerve-jarring air raids and impassioned pleas in telegrams from my grandparents convinced them to sell their possessions and book a spot on the last peacetime journey of the Queen Mary to New York City before it was converted to a troopship. They left England on Aug. 30 and by the time they landed, the Second World War had started.

Bob Hope and his new wife were also on that voyage, which had a military escort. An impromptu show was arranged in one of the lounges to calm the jittery passengers. Hope and his wife, Dolores, were scared to death on the trip home because the Germans had started torpedoing English ships. He debuted his signature song ‘Thanks for the Memories’ that night.

I don’t think my mother ever got over the loss of that life she left behind. My father became a partner in a corrugated shipping container company in the Midwest. She negotiated for three children and was a housewife in a small town far from her family. She donated her evening gowns to the Salvation Army. She suffered a nervous breakdown and was hospitalized in her 40s but recovered with the help of electric shock therapy, a popular treatment at the time. My mother didn’t talk much about her days in London but I always loved it when she asked me to “post a letter” for her.

When she died, I found a menu from the cruise on the Queen Mary and a photo of my mother at dinner, wearing one of her glamorous gowns with a fur stole. She was smiling, imagining her future.

Decluttering Can Lower Your Stress Level

This is a good article from Realage.com on the connection between clutter and that feeling of stress and overwhelm.


When you're so stressed you can't think straight, take a quick look around. See lots of clutter? Consider it a sign.

In her book, The Superstress Solution, physician and author Roberta Lee writes that a disorganized, untidy, clutter-filled home is not only a symptom of stress but also a source of stress. Clean up the litter and you'll dial up the calm.

The Science of Stress and Clutter
According to Lee, research shows that we secrete the stress hormone cortisol when surrounded by disarray. Bad news for your body. But the good news is that you know exactly what to do about it. With a quick tidy-up, you could reclaim both your surroundings and your serenity. Don't know where to start your spring clean-out? Try these tips:

* Take baby steps. It probably took a long time to accumulate all your clutter, so give yourself time to clear it out. Break up the task into manageable chunks, starting with one room, one corner, one junk drawer, or one cupboard at a time. (Find out how few minutes of clean-up time you need to boost your mood.)
* Set a schedule. Whether you do 20 minutes a day or reserve a whole weekend to declutter, set aside the time you need, and stick to your schedule. (Can't seem to find the time? The real problem may be energy management, not time management.)
* Write it down. Lee recommends keeping a journal to help you set goals and record positive changes you've made to your environment. Ask yourself what's cluttering your life, why you keep it, and what parts of your life and house seem out of control. Then, list concrete steps for changing it.
* Reach out. Articles and self-help books from people who've been where you are can help you get organized and make decisions on what to toss, what to donate, and what to keep.

How To Escape a Boring Life

How To Escape a Boring Life

Go into a cave the end of March
Lie down next to the sleeping bear
Throw your arm softly around her
Listen for her heartbeat

Throw a rock at the neighborhood bully
Watch the blood soak the rag he puts to his head
Wait a minute before turning to run
Down the dark alley

Get on a bus and end up in Mexico
Walk down the streets with your backpack
Left open a little and bulging
Don’t walk very fast

Let the Hell’s Angel come to your place
For a drink or to look at your books
Have him stay over and fix him some eggs
Ask him to let out your dog

Stand on your chair
At the French restaurant
Make up a song for your lover
Get the others to join you

Open your coat to the rain
Step into the fountain
Grab the change at the bottom
And spend it on peonies

Our Tribe

Our tribe members are those people who accept us as we are and gladly accompany us on our journeys of evolution.

Happy Groundhog Day

Groundhog Day
By Lynn Ungar

Celebrate this unlikely oracle,
this ball of fat and fur,
whom we so mysteriously endow
with the power to predict spring.
Let's hear it for the improbable heroes who,
frightened at their own shadows,
nonetheless unwittingly work miracles.
Why shouldn't we believe
this peculiar rodent holds power
over sun and seasons in his stubby paw?
Who says that God is all grandeur and glory?

Unnoticed in the earth, worms
are busily, brainlessly, tilling the soil.
Field mice, all unthinking, have scattered
seeds that will take root and grow.
Grape hyacinths, against all reason,
have been holding up green shoots beneath the snow.
How do you think spring arrives?
There is nothing quieter, nothing
more secret, miraculous, mundane.
Do you want to play your part
in bringing it to birth? Nothing simpler.
Find a spot not too far from the ground
and wait.

Organize For Who You Are Now

Tip of the Month: Organizing for the Real You

This is from the newsletter of one of my favorite organizers, Jeri Dansky. Visit her website, www.jdorganizer.com, for the original article.

How many of us keep things we think we "should" want or need - when the reality is we don't want those things and will never use them?

Here's Erin Doland of Unclutterer, writing in Real Simple in March 2009: "I liked to think of myself as someone who exercised every day by running on a giant motorized treadmill, read all the literary classics, and baked cookies for every special occasion. The reality? I am not a runner, I like to read pop fiction, and cookies aren't really my thing." So Erin got rid of a lot of stuff.

And here's Melissa Stanton, writing in the no-longer-published Organize magazine, about her Lenox dishes and crystal stemware: "When properly set, my dining room table could be dressed to impress. Problem was, in more than a decade of owning such finery, which I acquired as wedding gifts and by inheritance, I never set my dining room table as described. For most families, dining on fine china is a relic from a way of life we don't live."

Another aspect of organizing for reality is recognizing what activities we're never going to have time for. Fellow organizer Marcie Lovett just wrote about her own experience in this regard: "I finally realized that I will never have the time to do every craft that looks interesting, so I am going to concentrate on the few that I really enjoy: crochet, card making and sewing. That meant paring back the supplies that I am keeping and getting rid of everything else."

Then there's me. A while ago I realized that I simply don't iron anything and I gave away my ironing board. I've joined Erin in giving away highly-acclaimed books that I honestly don't want to read. And I got rid of the cups and saucers, since all I ever use for coffee and tea are my favorite mugs.

So if you're keeping items that don't fit your real life - or the life you are truly aspiring to and moving toward - then give yourself permission to let them go.

A Little About Theory U

The New Century Summit at the Berkeley UU Church this weekend used the principles of Theory U, which was refined by Otto Scharmer, a senior lecturer at MIT. He collaborated on a book about the process (with Peter Senge, Betty Sue Flowers and Joseph Jaworski) called Presence. It is a leadership model with a difference.

Scharmer has observed four different types of listening: downloading, factual listening, empathic listening and generative listening. You know you're downloading when you say, "Yeah, I know that already." With factual listening, you might say, "Ooh, look at that." You switch off your inner voice of judgment and focus on what is different from what you already know. Empathic listeners might say, "Oh, yes, I know exactly how you feel." It requires an open heart to really feel how another feels. We can begin to see the world through the other's eyes. And generative listening is listening from the emerging field of future possibility. "I can't express what I experience in words. Everything slows down. I am connected to something larger than myself."

Another way to say it is that to listen in this new way, we need to 1) observe, observe, observe; 2) retreat and reflect -- allow our inner knowing to emerge; and 3) act in an instant. (This means to prototype the new in order to explore the future by doing, to create a little landing strip of the future that allows for hands-on testing and experimentation.)

Scharmer says that connecting to one's best future possibility and creating powerful breakthrough ideas requires learning to access the intelligence of the heart and the hand -- not just the intelligence of the head.

Happy Birthday, Javier

Another birthday for Javier. Because we are going to be in Berkeley for a church conference, we will get to celebrate together on his birthday. This is a man who deserves a cake not just on his birthday. He deserves a cake a week because of the quiet good he brings to the world. He has helped repair, restore and create gardens for two of my friends who needed a healing touch. He has been a supportive and loving partner to my daughter, walking her dogs, supporting her dreams, driving her to Best Friends Sanctuary in Utah, learning to cook for her. He is a man of few words but when he talks, you listen. He is there for the ones he loves.

Happy Birthday, Javier!

Keokuk Haiku

Skates slide over pond
Goldfish glide under the ice
We meet in between

Olympia Brown Opened Doors for Women

My MIT list (Most Important Tasks) is topped today by: Prepare for Olympia Brown talk. She is a woman I had not heard of until I joined the Sierra Foothills Unitarian Universalists in Auburn. I had visited Unitarian churches over the years but judged them to be too intellectual for my tastes. I stumbled onto this church almost by accident and from the beginning I have been connected with both my head and my heart. We adhere to no creeds but there are seven principles we affirm and promote. The two that speak to me the most are: the inherent worth and dignity of every person and respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.

We have a part-time minister so we have guest speakers and members of the community present sermons twice a month. In February, John & I will be offering an imagined interview between Bill Moyers and Olympia Brown. She was one of the first women ministers, ordained in 1863. She also became a voice of the women's suffrage movement, speaking often with Susan B. Anthony. Her devotion to her ministry kept her from being one of the most well-known women's rights workers. On Nov. 2, 1920, Olympia Brown, at the age of 85, was among the first women to cast a ballot, after fighting for that right for 60 years. She was an amazing woman who opened many doors for women because she refused to give up.

Here are some words from her final sermon, delivered just before she was able to vote for the first time.

The opening doors lead to no dark dungeons, open upon no burning lake, give no evidence of everlasting punishment. But all gladden us with assurances of Divine Goodness and indicate the final triumph of the good ... Not only by the researches of science are we shown the glories of creation but the scenes of beauty which daily greet our eyes, the song of birds, fragrance of flowers, the moonlight shining on the waves all tell the same story of divine love.

The Five Senses

We had an assignment to write down a daily list of sensory words and phrases. I wasn't good about it. I thought about as I fell asleep at night and wrote them down a time or two. But not on a regular basis. So here is what I would have written if I had done the exercise.

I saw the black gnarly branches of a tree blown over in the storm.
I smelled the skunk in Colusa and the fainter smell of something dead under my friend's house. "It must have thought, 'this would be a good place to die'", she told me.
I tasted the blueberries in the thin sliver of berry pie I ate at the potluck after giving up sugar earlier in the day. It reminded me of my mother's homemade blueberry pie.
I heard the tapping of the computer keys as my partner wrote his daily poem.
I stroked the fat, orange cat as he inched cautiously towards me on his cat tower.
I saw the gun on the deck of the ship I toured on Mare Island. I imagined what it would have been like during a battle.
I touched the cold metal on the LCS and wondered how the men ever got warm.
I heard the chattering blackbirds in the leafless tree in the WinCo parking lot.
I caught the tantalizing smell of grease as I walked past the In n Out Burger.
I tasted the bitterness of the Green Tea I drank because it's good for me.
I saw a lake of Snow Geese in a flooded field on the way to Colusa.
I heard the whoosh of the furnace first thing in the morning.
I smelled the burnt popcorn.
I tasted the vitamin pill that got stuck in my throat.
I touched the cold feet of my partner.
I saw three geese flying in one direction and two geese flying in the opposite direction.
I heard the insistent honking as they jockeyed for position, spelling each other.
I smelled the coffee perking in the other room.
I tasted the brownie I didn't eat at the workshop.
I felt the rough wool of the scarf I wore to keep the draft off my neck.
I saw the yellow box on the blue sofa.
I heard my neighbor's dog, Lucy, greeting a friend.
I felt the springy curls of the Bichon Frisee.
I smelled the cinnamon on the oatmeal my partner just handed me.
I tasted the cheese in the pasta last night.
I saw raindrops on the clothesline, ready to hit the deck with a plink, tasting winter, smelling the Bay, touching gray satin wetness.

A Fine Kinda Day

So much going on I don't know what to focus on. A common affliction for a Gemini. We managed to walk today between the rain and it was so blustery, it reminded us of the Midwest. I had a hat on and a scarf wrapped around my head. It was still cold. I managed to write a poem today that I was happy with. The writing prompt was "a broken cup and a healing heart." It just came to me and flowed out easily. I've been reading poems of others to the prompt "what dogs admire about cats." Some hilarious and some inspiring poems.

I did some decluttering and made a Goodwill run to donate more stuff I don't need. While I was there, I spotted a ball sitting on a shelf to add to my collection. The shelf is labeled Self Help, which made me laugh.

John just got interviewed on the phone by a reporter from the Sacramento Bee about poetry projects he is involved in. It's like a dream to me that he has been able to really get involved in the poetry scene, both with children and adults. He's teaching a class to kids at the library Saturday which involves writing a poem about a piece of art. I'll be at a workshop for peacemaking at our church. So we're really pursuing the things we talked about when we imagined our lives after leaving the regular workplace. I don't like to call it retirement because it doesn't feel like that. Just a reinvention. With more freedom.

The other thing I'm working on is cutting down on sugar. I've made it through at least two days and I expect to start feeling better soon. Coincidentally, my son, daughter and sister have all given it up, too. My son was inspired by reading Michael Pollen's Omnivore's Dilemma. So rain, poems, peacemaking and sugar. A fine hodge podge and a fine way to live.

Go Illini!

If we hadn't moved back to California from Champaign, Illinois 22 years ago, I know where we would be right now. Assembly Hall at the University of Illinois Campus watching our team play Purdue. No underground parking so we'd be walking across the prairie land, 28 degrees with 20 percent of freezing rain before the game. We'd be wearing orange like maybe 90 percent of the other fans in the bleachers. We'd know the coach, Bruce Weber, because John would have been editor of the Champaign News Gazette until he retired. We might go to a party after the game. We'd know everyone there.

But we left Champaign to move to Ventura and never again have we been so attached to a college basketball team. When we lived there, U of I basketball players would stop by on Halloween just to say hello. My favorite player was Tony Wysinger, 5'9 guard who had more heart than players a foot taller. I loved to watch him drive to the basket, spin around and lay the ball into the basket to the chagrin of his opponents. Another favorite was Steve Bardo who is one of the announcers for tonight's game. We tailgated before football games in the fall and loved to watch the band sneak into the stadium with their hats on backwards for some reason.

Now we're watching the game in the comfort of our living room, wind howling outside, stormy but 46 degrees. I miss those nights of squeaky gym shoes, enthusiastic cheers, the feeling of being part of a tribe. Score at the half: 32-28, Illinois.

Dance With Me

Friends from the Bay Area stayed at our house over the weekend. They were competing in the same-sex dance competition in Sacramento, a series of dance events that will culminate with their competing in the Gay Games in Cologne, Germany, the end of July. The Games are built upon the principles of participation, inclusion and personal best™, for more than 25 years. We went to the ballroom Sunday to cheer them on. Literally. "Go #148!" It was a noisy, joyous gathering with sparkly, skin-baring costumes, black dance pants, coordinating outfits, high heels, flat dance shoes, chiffony scarves, ruffles, ties. There were three categories, A, B and C. Our friends were graded in the C group and by winning that round, were chosen to advance to the B group. This meant dancing four different dances in the C group and then, after a brief break, four more dances with the B group, ending with the Quick Step. But they had achieved their goal of moving into the B group before the Games.

There were more women than men couples. One of the male couples had danced on "So You Think You Can Dance" where one of the judges said he'd like to see them both dance with a girl, adding, "You never know, you might enjoy that, too." In an interview, they explained it's not about girls and boys but about leading and following. We can all do that, right?

There's that quote about Ginger Rogers being a better dancer because she did everything Fred Astaire did but backwards and in heels. But hopefully we are reaching a point where it doesn't matter which partner leads or who dances with who. What I saw Sunday was a whole lot of people having a wonderful time together.

When John & I lived in Suriname, we took Mambo lessons from a teacher who spoke Dutch. We were the oldest couple in the group, and I remember how easy it was to master the basic steps, and then how difficult each new variation became. It was difficult to just sink into the music and move without counting out the steps in my head. When I was able to get through a dance with a minimum of missteps, I remember feeling the flow of joy as we all moved to the beat of the music. It felt freeing and equalizing. Dancing is joy.

Letter to Pat Robertson

I had to share this.

The Minneapolis Star-Tribune published a letter from Satan to evangelist Pat Robertson, responding to his comment that Haiti's persistent troubles, including the earthquake, are due to a pact the nation made with Mephistopheles.

Actually, it wasn't Satan who wrote the letter but Lilly Coyle of Minneapolis writing in the persona of the hellish one.

I think she got it down pretty well. What say you?

Dear Pat Robertson,

I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I'm all over that action.

But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I'm no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished.

Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth -- glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven't you seen "Crossroads"? Or "Damn Yankees"?

If I had a thing going with Haiti, there'd be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox -- that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it -- I'm just saying: Not how I roll.

You're doing great work, Pat, and I don't want to clip your wings -- just, come on, you're making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That's working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.

Best, Satan

LILY COYLE, MINNEAPOLIS

Writing Prompt: Noises My Mother Made

MY MOTHER’S WINSTONS

What is the noise of smoke?
Silky sigh of exhalation.
She was calmest then,
for a moment.
Click of Bic lighter,
rainbow colors,
I brought them to her
in the retirement home.
And the cartons
and cartons of smokes.

Later, she moved
to the assisted living floor.
Couldn’t smoke unless
she went outside.
An act more difficult
than her desire for a cigarette.
Then she forgot she smoked.
In the end, the noise of smoke
is a rattle.

Making Space For Art

It's a new year and already I can feel the difference. After stewing about it for a long time, I have resigned from a board and a committee with organizations I believe in strongly. It was difficult to do because I had signed on and I felt like I was letting people down. But then I felt a burst of energy when I realized how much time I had opened up for myself. When we first moved to Roseville a year and a half ago, we got involved in several organizations so we could make a contribution and start to build a new community. But now I see that I said yes too many times. I need to redesign my calendar so there are some nice empty spaces to do art, to write, to learn new things.

As one who encourages people to declutter, I often ask people to look at what they are doing that might no longer thrill them. It probably did when they first joined this committee or that book club but maybe now they are doing it because they are afraid of the reaction when they say it's time to move on to something else. And personally I find it very difficult to admit that I am moving on to take care of my own passion. I was trained to put others' needs first. And I thought that would be a big part of my life in retirement.

But this year I am trying to remember the words of Forrest Church, a Unitarian Universalist who died recently. He said; Be Who You Are; Want What You Have and Do What You Can. Fine words for a new decade.

Start Your Day Right; Have a Baby

Today is our daughter Jamie's birthday. We got a text thanking us for a card we sent (via banjobunny.com, very creative cards) and I asked John what time of day she was born. He is responsible for six of our children and I contributed two. He said she was born at night and it was cold but not snowing. I said mine came in the morning: start your day right, have a baby. I said it to be funny, but it is a profound statement. I was thinking yesterday of the moment 40 years ago when I heard from my doctor's office that I was pregnant for the first time. This was before drugstore pregnancy tests and I had spent the day with my mother, distracting myself until the time they had said I could call for results, with a trip to Park Forest, the first shopping mall near our home. It was a 30-minute drive and then that was a big deal, especially in the winter. My mother was very anxious about driving in the snow.

This was shortly after Thanksgiving and we looked around for bargains, buying very little as I remember. Then we had lunch in the Marshall Field's tea room. It was a quiet, muted restaurant with thick carpet and pink tablecloths and all women servers. A far cry from the Food Court at my local mall where I grabbed a lunch of Chinese food yesterday after my date with my Apple at the Genius Bar. Back then, we probably had something traditional like chicken salad or shrimp Louie, followed by a cup of coffee, not decaf, and a cigarette for my mother. This was before smoking sections in restaurants. I could hardly wait to get home to call for the news that could change my life. And the news was positive.

Nine months later, I woke up at six in the morning in Berlin, Germany, with strong cramps and a backache. My husband was serving in the Army and he drove me in our blue Volkswagen bug through the city streets where we passed a construction worker tipping a bottle of beer to his mouth. My first child would have been born in the morning except for the fact that there were three other women, one a friend, in labor at the American hospital and one doctor. I was the last to deliver so his arrival was just after 1 pm. He was the largest at 9 pounds 4 ounces. The smallest was a preemie, a little girl. There was another big boy and my friend's daughter, who she named Valerie because her husband wanted a boy so badly, he refused to choose a girl's name. She picked the name because I was handy. I often wonder what happened to that little Valerie.