Cherish the love …


Link It

Random thoughts …

That is what happens when I can’t think of one solid reason for blogging on any given week.

Thoughts of what I would do  … if I didn’t do  … what I do.


That’s right. What would you be doing at this very moment if you weren’t reading this? What would I do if I didn’t have this to come to each week?


What would I do if I could no longer write?



 Live it

Random thoughts-Two …

Wonder of wonders … my baby girl is having a baby girl … the continuation of a legacy that has spanned continents and generations since my great-great-grandmothers in Italy.

I am named for both my grandmothers. My daughter is named for my childhood crush on Jennifer Jones. I informed my husband and family that I was having a baby girl with dark hair and blue eyes.

And they laughed.

You’re a dark Italian girl, what’s with the blue eyes?

Her maternal great-grandfather and both her paternal and maternal grandfathers had blue eyes.

And those wide blue eyes sought me out the first moment as she wriggled into my life.

It is said that a son is a son until he takes a wife. When he is grown, he throws over his first love and reserves those secret moments for another.

It is so true that a daughter is a daughter all your life. When we give birth to a girl child, we give birth to our best friend.

Soon I’ll be getting on a jet plane headed for New York … soon … Oh, please come soon … I will hold another piece of our family history.

The month she was born I heard a song by Stevie Wonder and it has been her song since.



She has been all of that and more. Not willing to take a back seat to her older brother, she has gleefully contributed to my crop of gray hairs, given me sleepless nights, and touched my funny bone and my heart.

I miss that little pest. You know the one? The one who manages to miss the entire movie and barges into the room as the murderer is about to be revealed? The skinny kid who was always the smallest Smurf … she was Smurfette … tiny and petite and the biggest mouth in the school yard.

She fights me tooth and gums on every issue, she pushes when she could  remain still, and is stubborn when she could relent.

She sang before she talked.

And when she started talking, she let out a stream of consciousness that could be heard all over Washington Heights and up into the Indwood Hills.

A teenager of the eighties with dock martins, black jeans and a streak of purple in that lovely dark hair, she kept me honest, challenging my every edict.

I love the woman she has become and I am happy for her that she will finally have her own little girl. She waited fifteen years and as the big day closes in on both of us … I wonder …


Will she have one like her?

Will her lovely dark hair turn to silver or her resolve melt in the face of a teenager’s rebellion?

We don’t know what is coming around the next bend of the road and all I can do is wish for her a smooth journey with lots of laughter and a minimum of tears.

As my baby is about to become a mother, I think about my mother and how much I miss her. I think about all the things I should have told her, but had no wisdom to know.

Mary, Mary …Mom was indeed … quite contrary. She was a tough nut to crack, a task-master who might easily give you a smack as a kiss. Whack, on the back of the legs with the wooden spoon, bam with the back of her hand on my head, Mom was the disciplinarian of the two.

Think of your mother this Sunday. Give her a call if you are lucky enough to still have her in your life. If she is gone, remember only the good about her.

Be grateful and kind.

You were probably no picnic to raise.

Tell me, do you remember?

Which color carnation should you wear this Sunday? 

Happy Mother’s Day, people. Raising a human is no turkey trot.

fOIS In The City


Filed under Random Thoughts

20 responses to “Cherish the love …

  1. vicki

    Hi Florence, I remember always feeling misunderstood. Also my mother could craft ‎away. I still have the paper hat we made for Fourth grade book report. A Valentine box. She sewed wonderfully and baked lots of cakes. Today she still indulges in puzzles. Happy mom day to you and your daughter.

    Sent from my BlackBerry 10 smartphone.


  2. You were probably no picnic to raise.


    Florence, I am so excited for you. For you, I can not imagine a better place to embrace the joy of motherhood than with your daughter and granddaughter. BONUS! Back in New York.

    My mom is gone. Taken from us mentally over a decade ago by Alzheimer’s. But, I SO remember what a little spitfire she was. Never mind the challenges my creative sneakiness gave her.

    Since your daughter has BLUE eyes, she will be contributing two blue genes to the eye color pond. Any premonitions on the color of your granddaughter’s eyes?



    • You are so right, Gloria. I can’t imagine a better place for us to be right now. She has waited so long for this. I am counting the days until I get there to hold that little bundle.

      I bet you were a handful and a half … I know I was. I have no idea of her coloring even though I must admit she would be the only blue-eyed grandchild. We shall wait and “see.” 🙂


  3. I LOVE that Stevie Wonder song and am listening to it as I write this comment. Thank you for the way you describe motherhood, Florence. I would have loved to have you as a mom because I bet you were a hoot. I can only say “thank you” for your last words: “Raising a human is no turkey trot”. Dude, that is sooo true. I have found that raising teenagers (2 right now) is really and truly the hardest so far, but I wouldn’t give it up. When you said “raising a human”, do you realize how heavy-duty that line is? Whoa.
    Happy Mother’s Day to you, Florence.


    • Patti, when I went out early this morning and turned on the radio, that song was playing. That’s like a sign. I feel for you with two teens. That is the most challenging time of their life and our job as mothers doubles in intensity.

      I don’t know if my kids thought I was a hoot, but I sure had a great time with them 🙂 Happy Mother’s Day to you, my friend !!


  4. Happy mother’s day to you. I bet you are a great mom.


  5. Grandma! YAY!! I believe that being a grandmother is God, making up for your kid’s teen years. Stuff that would have boiled my brain in the old days, coming from my grandkids, is adorable. Nothing better than that! I wish you and your family a wonderful, happy baby!


    • I agree absolutely, Laura. There is a freedom of being grandma that we didn’t have with the kids. And then there’s the idea of them going back home with mom and pop at the end of the visit … visits that are few are far between. I take what I can get and love it 🙂 Happy Mother’s Day !!


  6. Florence – My friend, what sweetness and light you bring to the role of mothers everywhere. I see you as that spunky and impossible to control kid your mother lived with day in and day out everywhere in your writing. You became an amazing woman, one with true grit and true to your values even when it wasn’t fashionable to do so. Your children were blessed to have you in their lives.
    Now, you enter the role of grandmother. What a wonderful place that will be. Your bundle of joy enters the world with strong and imaginative women holding her close and an inspiration for her to be the woman she wants to become every step of the way.
    Thanks for the tribute to mothers – you always have something to write about and those very blogs are the ones that bring me to my knees time and time again.


    • You are too generous, Sheri. Yes, I was a major chore to raise and the mother’s curse followed me when my own were teens. I might be a very unconventional grandma … but then I was a very unconventional mom and daughter 🙂


  7. Another beautiful post! Congrats on becoming a grandmother . . . fingers crossed she arrives in time for Mother’s Day 🙂


  8. annerallen

    Congrats, Grandma! And have a happy Mother’s Day!


  9. All good wishes to you and yours, granny


  10. christicorbett

    Another great read by a great lady! I’m glad I saved this one for Mother’s Day to read 🙂

    Happy Mother’s Day to you, dear Florence!

    Christi Corbett


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