I grew up in Staten Island when it was rural. The man behind us had a small farm, complete with chickens and a coop. You will often hear the native islanders from the early 1960s and prior aka before the bridge grumbling about how the island was ruined once that darn bridge went up. Truly what ruined it was the politicians and the government that just let building ensue willy nilly without a thought to our infrastructure and our sadly inadequate roadways and transportation. Still in many areas of the island today you need a car to get around even though we probably have at this point about half a million residents crammed onto this island, that is just under 14 miles long and a little over 7 miles wide. That is it. When I was little we played outside all day, every day, after school or all Summer long. We played in the woods, collected shells and magic glass at the beach and made snow forts and ice skated on frozen ponds in the Winter.
We are part of New York City, but you would never know it; Mayor Bloomberg forgets that we are here, the local news channels and weather people do as well. I think I may be the ONLY person in the borough, aside from my Aunt Barbara, who rode the 69th Street ferry for the last ride and then was one of the first cars over the Verrazano. Aunt Barbara and her husband Uncle Taube brought me along for the ride that day, way back on November 21, 1964 when I was 7. I do not really remember it but I will take her word for it. What was really cool, though, was when the bridge turned 25 they closed the top off to vehicles so that we could walk across it so Tom and I did just that. He was 6 at the time. I wonder what they will do for the 50th?
Just like my mom I crave to be near nature and beauty, except for spiders that is. Yesterday I did weed the front patch next to the car port, but it was glorious just to be outside. After that I moved into the backyard with the dogs and brought my rosary beads along for my daily prayers. Not a butterfly in sight but there was a clear-winged dragonfly with black tips on each wing whizzing around. Funny, but a number of times it landed on my hand that was holding the rosary. You know that just made my day. While I was sitting there I also noticed that my first rose of the season has bloomed and I found a four-leaf clover! Lucky me.
Each season has its own beauty. Every day has its own special moments too. My suggestion to you? Take your rosary into your backyard, or someplace quiet outdoors and just listen, breath, meditate and reconnect with God and all of his glorious gifts. It uplifts the soul and that weariness that you sometimes carry around with you will dissipate into the breeze leaving you with a sense of renewal.
Mare
