Jersey Shore Christmastime

This holiday week is full of celebrations.

Family and friends come together to
reminisce the past,
 share in joys of the present
 and anticipate the future.

I am especially thinking of  time spent
'down the (Jersey) shore'
at holiday time.

Although we now live on a different coast and the sand and surf are available most days of the year, I am ever drawn to being
 'down the shore' rather than 'at the beach'.

Thinking of everyone at this time who have been affected in recent weeks and months by forces of nature and beyond.
May all who have suffered find
 comfort, peace and blessings.

12 12 12

Carpe Diem 

Today is a very important day. 

Not only is it the last day of this century for repeating numbers for day-month-year,

 but it also is the day on which the

Robin Relief Fund 

is raising funds for the victims of

 Super Storm Sandy

with a concert at MSG.

Please remember those in need as they continue to rebuild their lives after this devastating storm.

Carpe Diem!

Tis the Season!

Remember the Reason!

Coastal Christmas

Themed Christmas trees may be either chic or shocking. 

I have two quotes to consider regarding this decorating conundrum. 

They are both from the one and only Coco Chanel.

 Her first quote is 
  "Less is always more."

The second quote is
 "Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory."

So, regarding the trimmed Christmas tree, should one keep it less rather than more?

Should one remove several tree 'accessories' before the big 'reveal?'

I decorated the above tree in an obvious coastal theme.
 Starfish, shells, pearl garland and faux coral adorn the tree. Raffia was draped as pseudo seaweed and sparkling lights  illuminated the underwater replication.

To complete the effect, I strategically placed the tree in front of a seaside poster.

I like the result; especially since it was decorated in my niece's condo  'down the (Jersey) shore' several years ago.

Do you think that Coco would have taken off one of the pearl strands . . .  um, I mean garland?

It doesn't really matter what Coco would think. My coastal Christmas tree delivers the message of the Seaside Season.

At this difficult time for so many still suffering from Super Storm Sandy 
I hope that my attempt at a Coastal Christmas respite may bring a smile for  those in need of a little Christmas spirit.

Let's all remember to not forget those who still need our help.

The Feast of Saint Nicholas

Tonight, December 5, is 

St. Nicholas Eve 

as tomorrow is

 the Feast of St. Nicholas!

My husband grew up in the Rhineland, Germany. For him this was the night that he and his brother, together with all German children, put their shoes at their bedroom door, in hopes that St. Nicholas would fill them with treats and goodies during the night while they slept.

 If they were not well behaved, then they would find coal in their respective shoes in the morning.

Does this story sound familiar?

Well, it is, of course, because our Santa and Germany's St. Nicholas are one and the same. . . with American modifications, of course!

When our sons were young, we continued the German tradition. They placed their shoes at their bedroom door on this very night. I might add that they selected the biggest shoes that they owned.

Occasionally, they would find licorice in their shoes (our version of coal.)  But there were always goodies also, so that no eyes would be brimming with tears in the morning.

We kept the treats simple. Seasonal fruits, German holiday candies and a small toy.  Our sons called this celebration 'Little Christmas' and they said that it was their warmup for the arrival of you-know-who later this month.

Now our boys are young adults and we have no small shoes to fill with goodies tonight. The memories will have to do.

I am very grateful, however, that I have had the wonderful opportunity to share with our children the holiday customs of their Dad's homeland.

Seems fitting to wish everyone a 

'Frohliche Weihnachten!'

Christmas

 at the 

Jersey Shore

I have spent only one Christmas at the Jersey Shore.

 We had just sold our home in Northern Jersey and were preparing to start our new life in California. Wanting one last holiday season in New Jersey before we would embark on our next chapter, the perfect present came our way.

My niece offered for us to spend our final New Jersey Christmas at her beach front condo. It took only seconds to think it over and 'down the shore' we headed. 

Sweet memories of that special Christmas are with me always. And now I have been given a new memory regarding the beautiful Jersey Shore. This one is bittersweet, but one that I wish to share in the Spirit of the Season.

I was making calls to raise funds for a non-profit animal rescue organization yesterday.

Super Storm Sandy's devastation has ravaged New Jersey and New York. Thousands of people and also their pets are still trying to put their lives back together.

My calls are computerized randomly; I never know with whom I will be speaking or where they will be from until the call comes through.

Yesterday afternoon I spoke with a man who lived at the Jersey Shore. As soon as I saw the address appear on my screen, I hesitated to speak as I knew that this community had been so terribly hit by the super storm.

My donor was very gracious. He was a true lover of animals and shared with me his own work to aid local cats.

 I asked him how badly he was affected by the horrific storm and he replied,

"The ocean took my home".

The ocean took his home. 

How do you respectfully reply to that revelation?  Dare anyone ask for help for the animals from someone who no longer has a home to go along with an address?

I profusely offered my sympathy for his loss and he  then exceeded all expectations.

"Okay, let's get this done. Let me give you a monthly contribution for the animals. They really need it".

And so, for me, I have received an early Christmas present. I once again have been reminded what makes  people from New Jersey the individuals that they are. Some may say that it's the Spirit of the Season, but I venture to say that it is the Spirit of New Jersey.

I will no longer have Christmas at the Jersey Shore to celebrate and perhaps neither will my very giving donor.

But the Spirit of the Season and the Spirit of the Jerseyan will not be lost upon either one of us anytime soon. 

Giving thanks

Gatherings are taking place throughout our land today to celebrate Thanksgiving. 

We are so blessed to live in this country. 

I remember attending a dinner party in Paris years past. Throughout the entire evening my Parisian dinner partners detailed for me all that is wrong with the U.S. and its inhabitants. Quietly, a charming gentleman leaned over to me and with a twinkle in his eye said, "Don't take what we say too seriously. We would all give our right arm to carry an American passport." 

That moment is with me today. 

Such blessings for living in America. Nothing is perfect, but I would venture to say that we come as close as possible and the world knows that.

My wish is that one day soon everyone may have peace of mind and heart and that the joy of this special day is truly for everyone. I think that may be achieved by all of us first trying to give back and then we may certainly give thanks.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Time to Vote!

These past months have been quite a ride. 

I have worked many hours this past year for the

 Obama for America Campaign, 

 Obama Victory Fund, 

 Democratic National Committee  and

 Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee. 

I have spoken with many individuals, reaching out to them, reminding each one what is at stake on our journey to this historic election.

People have shared with me their pain, their frustration and their discontent. But what they have shared with me more than all else is their hope for the future of this great country and their pride and conviction that President Obama has accomplished many great things in spite of so many efforts to undermine his goals and achievements.

I received my lessons in Democratic Party essentials at my father's knee. All that I know and believe began at a very young age. Now, so many years later, I hold even stronger conviction of my Democratic beliefs with so many stories having been shared with me by fellow Americans.

Today we vote! 

Such an American tenet of our democracy. 

May all the work that I and my fellow democrats have extolled reap reward today.

Jersey Tomatoes

Living in Southern California affords me the abundance and availability of every veggie and fruit imaginable. Our Farmers' Markets are exceptional and we are fortunate to be able to visit them on a weekly schedule throughout the year. 

One item that is missing from this Californian cornucopia is the Jersey Tomato. I have searched for years to experience a tomato that is reminiscent of those grown in NJ. Alas, none are to be found. That is not to imply that we do not have tomatoes aplenty. We do. They simply do not taste remotely like a Jersey 'tom-tom' as my father called them. 

Daddy would harvest his annual crop in late summer when they were still green. He would then carefully wrap each one in newspaper and store them in the cool and darkened basement in a farmer's bushel basket. Each evening when he came home from work he would go to the basement, select several of his prized 'tommies' (another favorite name which he gave them), bring them up to the kitchen and place them on the windowsill so that they could ripen within a day or two and be ready to eat. Their amazing metamorphosis from green-to-red could be measured on a hourly basis.

My father hated the ending of summer. It was his favorite season. The daily ritual of ripening his tommies on the windowsill long after the season had past enabled him to hang onto summer just a little longer than everyone else.

So, for those of you who are fortunate enough to still have some tommies available, be they Jersey or not, here is a great tomato salad recipe that is quite delectable and at the same time very healthy for you.
 Enjoy!


Summertime Jersey Tomato Salad

• 6  red ripened Jersey tomatoes (if you can't get Jersey tomatoes, Beefsteak will do), cored and cut into wedges
• 1 small red onion, finely chopped
• 4 red radishes, finely sliced
• 1 red pepper, cored and finely chopped
• 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil (I use California olive oil)
• 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
• pinch of red pepper flakes
• kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Mix all ingredients in a glass or ceramic bowl. Chill for at least 30 minutes and serve promptly.

Great side dish for chicken.

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Fun, Fun, Fun

She was as black as black could be.
 So very, very black. 

Sleek and contoured. 
A real head turner. 
The classic Mad Men era beauty.
She had accessories no one else had and she wore them well.

 I admired her from afar. 
My sister actually knew her first.

And then good fortune came my way and we became inseparable. 
We cruised the local highways and byways. 
She was always ready for a good time and ever reliable.
Even the Beach Boys captured her in melody and lyrics.


My Dad was as cool as was she. 
No, actually, he was way cooler.
When he first handed me HER KEYS it was a moment beyond compare.
How I treasured each and every time I got to be with her.
To think that he actually let me take her out when I was newly licensed is amazing to me still.
No one but my father understood what it meant to me.
He understood me better than anyone; then and now.
So, today I am missing them both.
I miss my T Bird and everything she brought to me in  my youth.
  I miss my Dad.
I miss him each and every day.
Days like this one . . .  Father's Day. . .  always sharpen the pain. 
He alone knew how important the right wheels were for a newbie driver.
Especially one who had an opportunity to be behind the wheel of a Thunderbird.
Thanks, Daddy. You were always the best and still are.
It was 
Fun . . . Fun . . . Fun

Day Is Done
Memorial Day 2012


My Brother, My Hero


I never spent much time with my brother, Larry. We had different mothers and he was a generation older than me. We shared a father and a last name; little more for many years.

When I was a young adult and newly married, my father reconciled with Larry and it was the beginning of a new chapter in our lives. Unfortunately, it was to be short lived. But as they say ," 'tis better to have loved and lost than . . . "

My brother was a sergeant major in the US Army. He served several tours in Viet Nam, was married to Emma, his Italian bride whom he met while serving in Europe and together they raised three wonderful children. He was nearing his retirement while stationed in Turkey. That's when the dormant and ugly head of Agent Orange began to suck on and snuff out the life of my dear brother. The months that followed the first tell tale signs of what was to come were gruesome and heartbreaking. His was a death beyond measure. My father, newly connected to his son, closed up his home in Florida, and together with my mother, drove to Fort Hood Army Base in Texas where my brother was hospitalized. He spent the next several months at my brother's dying bedside. Day in, day out with no exception.

God works in mysterious ways. Though my father and brother lost many years between them, those final months at Larry's bedside allowed a reconciliation to behold. I can still see my Dad feeding Larry, wiping his mouth  after every spoonful and kissing him hello and good-bye as if they had always had this rapport.

The end was painful for Larry as was the entire journey of his greatest battle fought; that being the fight-to-the-end with Agent Orange.

Military funerals are exceptional. We watch them on television, but observe from afar. Participating in one is an honor, though heartbreaking. They reach into your soul and leave an imprint  that you carry forever.

The day of Larry's funeral was rainy. Gray Texan sky, broad and wide, with raindrops softly falling. Tears from heaven, I thought. I held myself together until that unparalleled moment when that solitary soldier appears upon the knoll, bugle in hand. My heart was heavy with sorrow, but little did I imagine the overwhelming throbbing pain I would feel when the bugler raised his trumpet and began his solitary song. A moment in time that lives with me now as do my memories of my brother, Larry.

May all those who served and gave themselves for us look down upon us this Memorial Day and bestow upon us the strength and bravery that they showed in their final hours.

"Day is Done . . . God is Nigh."

FRANKLIN ARMS TEA ROOM - BLOOMFIELD, NJ

TEA TIME WITH MOM

Mother's Day has the power to resurface buried memories of years past, of times spent with Mom and warm reflections of special days shared just between the two of you.

I can't imagined what prompted my memory of lunching with my mother at the Franklin Arms Tea Room so many, many moons ago. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant recapture of a more innocent time when mothers took their daughters to such 'ladies only'  venues for a special luncheon.

The proprietress  was always there to welcome you at the door of this colonial era former travelers lodge. She was impeccably dressed,  her makeup was expertly applied, coif was without a flaw and her perfume signaled both her entrance and exit from each and every room.

Everyone in attendance was dressed 'to the nines' and my mother exemplified the best of taste when it came to knowing what to wear and how to wear it.  My ensemble was always of a preppy nature; no frills for this daughter allowed. I dreamed of ruffles and crinolines at the time, but upon reflection I must give credit where credit is due and acknowledge my mother's wisdom with my wardrobe selections.

The highlight of my luncheon would be the Shirley Temple cocktail. It made me feel totally grown up and the extra cherry didn't hurt to affirm my conviction. My mother and I always split a sandwich when we went out to lunch, but the Franklin Arms was the one exception to that practice. I can't imagine why, but I do recall that I would order the liverwurst on rye, an odd selection for a young girl. Perhaps it was what I was accustomed to, but still an unique choice.

The tea room was frequented by blue-rinse tinted ladies. At the time I was convinced that all older women's hair turned blue as they aged. Silly me! I also thought that their cheeks became exceptionally rosy as the years passed. I was totally clueless.

I have never had a daughter of my own to bring to a tea room. My sons preferred sports-theme environs and that, too, has been an educational process for me. It doesn't really matter whether it be a tea room or a rugged sports pub to share those special moments as either a mother or a child. The memories are still made and for this Mother's Day I give tribute to my mother for the happy moments that she created for me.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL!

Tempus Fugit

Tempus Fugit

Best Wishes

from

Chez Laurice

for a

Happy

Healthy 

and 

Prosperous 

New Year