The end of an era

My grandmother passed away a week ago today. Her death is the first loss I've suffered as an adult and I'm still trying to cope with it.

None of this was entirely unexpected. She was 93, after all. About a month ago, her doctor diagnosed her with late-stage Alzheimer's Disease. She'd quickly gone from just being forgetful, to someone who we couldn't care for at home. We decided to move her from the hospital to a nursing home and that's where she remained until her death.

The funeral was Monday and at my grandfather's request, I gave one of the eulogies. I was glad to be able to talk about a few of the things that made my grandmother so special.

Below, I've posted the text of what I said at the service. For those of you who didn't know my grandmother, I hope it gives you a little insight into the amazing woman that she was.


There was nothing in life more important to my grandmother than her family. She was so poroud of all of us and so glad all of her children and grandchildren lived so close to her.

Grandma wanted to make sure we all got a good education so she could brag about how smart we were. She wanted to make sure we all had our own houses so she didn’t have to worry about where we would live. And she wanted to make sure we all found the right person to marry so we would always have someone to take care of us like she had Grandpa to take care of her.

Grandma did everything in her power to make all of this a reality. She wound up driving each of us back and forth to school countless times. And whenever one of the grandkids was ready to buy a house, she gave us the money for a down payment.

And even in her last weeks, she was intent on making sure all of her grandchildren had their perfect match. I was visiting her at the hospital and she asked where my brother Danny was. I explained that he was home and would be visiting later. She said she just wanted to introduce him to the nurse because that’s the kind of girl he should meet. Nevermind the fact that the nurse was married.

Seeing her family was always the most important thing to her. Whenever something good happened, we couldn’t wait to run and tell Grandma because we knew how happy she would be. Forget world peace or winning the lottery. Grandma just wanted me to find a husband.

One of my favorite memories is how when we were little, my brothers and I would spend New Year’s Eve at my grandparents’ house so my parents could go out with their friends. Grandma would always stock up on cake and ice cream and say “We can have our own little party.” The best part was that Grandma would always let me stay up until midnight to watch the ball drop but she’d make my brothers go to bed early.

Every Jewish grandmother tends to worry but Grandma turned it into an art form. When there wasn’t anything to worry about, she created something. Thank goodness she never discovered the Weather Channel. She taught us that a car is a weapon, never to pick up hitchhikers, and beware of the undertow. We knew to always wear our seatbelts, to lock the doors, and never touch a cigarette.

But most of all, Grandma taught us about love. My grandparents have been married for 70 years. Their marriage has been an inspiration to all of us. It meant so much to me get married with her wedding band and I wear it everyday.

I can’t even begin to explain how much I’m going to miss my Grandma. I know she loved every moment she had with us and I’m just so very lucky to have had 30 years with her.

-30-

On the occasion of my 30th birthday it seems only proper to take a look back at the three decades which have been my life. Happily, I feel I can honestly say I have no regrets.

My family, all its quirks included, has made me who I am today. I married a man who couldn't be more perfect for me. And, I was born to do the job I do.

I am undoubtedly one of the lucky ones. This doesn't mean that I haven't faced my share of challenges in life, but it does make me a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.

My first major hurdle came around the time I turned 12 years old. Struck by depression and anxiety, I stopped going to school. Through the amazing patience of my parents and grandparents, I started home-schooling which gave me the chance to stay up-to-date academically while sorting through the other issues.

My family's dedication ultimately led me to St. Timothy's School where I truly thrived. Thanks to the school's attention to the individual attention and academic rigor, I went on to college and then law school. Had it not been for St. Tim's, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am today.

Five years ago this week, I was diagnosed with colon cancer. That's a life-changing event, if I've ever seen one. It's definitely made me a stronger person, or at least I'd like to think that it has. I might as well get something out of it, right?

It's funny how all the little bits in life add up to make me who I am. I can't wait to see how life plays out from here on out.

My darling husband recently reminded me that in journalism, 30 signifies the end. I guess it's a good thing I'm not a journalist anymore.

Caught

This year marked a new development in our Black Friday snowglobe hunt.

I got caught.

I was on my fourth time around when it happened. I'd left the store through a side exit and waited for a crowd of people before walking in again. I tried to blend in with them but it didn't work.

There was a bottleneck. I stood there two seconds too long. I was spotted.

The overly-cheerful JCPenney employee turned to me and slowly handed me a snowglobe.

"Second one?" he said, looking at me with a sly but knowing grin. I sheepishly accepted the snowglobe.

"I'm observant," he added.

Oh, I can't tell you how badly I wanted to say "Well, apparently not that observant, because this is actually my fourth one." But I kept my mouth shut.

Still, the family finished out the day with 11 snowglobes. I have no complaints.

I wasn't sure how well this year would go. The family has had a rough time lately and I was afraid the stress and need for sleep would keep my fellow snowglobe hunters in bed this year. We moved my grandmother to a nursing home this week after she spent a week in the hospital with what her doctor is calling late-stage Alzheimer's Disease. It's been a really hard time.

The family immediately balked last night when I reminded them that JCPenney opened at 4 a.m. They were tired. They wanted to sleep in. I said I'd be leaving the house at 3:45 and whoever wanted to join me was welcome.

My brother, Matt, was outside of my house when I opened the door at that ungodly hour. He and I drove to JCPenney where, to our amazement, a line was already forming outside.

I then had a call from my husband who was shocked that I left the house without him and said he'd be right there.

In all, I got four snowglobes and Matt and Rich each got two. I was happy with the eight, but later got a call from my dad who said he and Matt went back later on and they got another three.

I know it's a stupid tradition but for some reason, it means a lot to me. And I think it means even more to me this year when we're so worried about Grandma. It's nice to have some continuity in life.

Our new America

Barack Obama officially changed our nation yesterday, winning the hearts and minds of millions who previously never gave a thought to politics. And it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone.

This election has been unique from the very start.

Obama is a politician like none I've seen in my lifetime. He's so different, in fact, that I don't know what to think. He has fans and followers with an enthusiasm that typically accompanies boy bands and football teams.

It's that hero worship, not his politics, that makes me uncomfortable. I've been brought up to believe that you can't trust politicians and that it's the public duty to question their actions and inactions.

But in this election, I found that people were personally insulted if you so much as asked a question about Obama. It was as if by questioning Obama, you were questioning their entire existence. There was a new emotion in this election. Of course after eight years of George Bush, I can see how people would get a little emotional.

My father points out that we can now thank Bush for one positive thing: Motivating people to vote.

And I certainly give Obama credit for getting interested in politics again. I worked as an election judge again and voters voted with a passion. We went to start setting up the polls on Monday night and one gentleman came by just to make sure he knew exactly where to go the next morning. I was the first election judge to arrive on Tuesday morning and at 5:15 a.m., there were already people camped out.

We went non-stop from the time the polls opened at 7 a.m. until 12:20 when we finally got a minute's break. Surprisingly, the steady flow did not continue through the day. Although we reached a 69 percent voter turnout at our precinct, the afternoon and evening hours were very slow.

Many more people brought their children with them to vote this time around. And unless you've got a screaming baby, I've always thought this was an important thing to do. I still remember my parents taking us with them to vote over the years. I particularly remember going with my mom to Winand Elementary to vote in the Reagan-Mondale contest in 1984. I thought those old-style voting booths with the levers and curtains were the coolest thing. I hope the kids of today had the same positive experience as I did.

I'm very curious to see what will happen once Obama is inaugurated in January. Every president gets a honeymoon period, but I have to wonder how long Obama's freedom from criticism will last.

I really wish him the best of luck, even though I might not agree with him on all of the issues (but I also don't agree with McCain). He has a tough job ahead of him and a lot of work to do. It's a job that I certainly don't envy.

For America's sake, I hope he really does have all the answers. But I also hope people remember that he's a politician and as citizens, we have a duty to keep our elected officials in check. After all, it was George Bush who argued that it's un-American to challenge your government and we all see how well that worked out.

Mmmm... cake!

I love cake.

Wait, let me repeat that. I love love love love love cake. If allowed, I would gladly subsist on cake and nothing else. But Rich, with his silly theory on balanced diets, has overruled me on that.

But, for our anniversary this year, I got in a little cake love. I signed us up for a cake decorating class.

Let me tell you -- the folks on Ace of Cakes make this cake decorating thing look way too easy. I mean I knew it would be a challenge, considering I have no creativity, skill, or coordination, but I didn't think I'd fret over it as much as I did.

For the last class, we were told to bake our own cake, ice it, and bring it so we could decorate our masterpiece.

So on Sunday Rich and I baked our cake and started the icing process. This did not go well. I'm not sure if the cake was just too moist or if we just didn't give it enough time to cool, but when we starting icing it, chunks starting falling off. I had a cake avalanche on my hands.

I became quite distraught and was ready to trash the whole thing but I just don't have it in me to throw away a cake. Rich suggested that we stick the cake in the fridge and give it a try the next day with a new batch of thinner icing.

The idea worked and I caulks the cake with the new icing, filling in the cracks. By the time I was done, you could hardly tell how bad it looked the day before. Yes, the cake and all its spackle now weighed about 10 lbs., but it looked good.

Our last class happened to be on the eve of my parents' 36th anniversary so we decided to make the cake for them as a gift. I toyed with a few different sayings such "Celebrating 12 years of happiness" or "36 years of wedded adequecy." But, due to my lack of skill in writing on cakes, we opted for a shorter and simpler design.

I have to say that I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. How it tastes, however, is an entirely different issues. I may love cake, but I'm not fighting to try this one.

So, um, enjoy it Mom & Dad. Hope you've stocked up on toilet paper.

Disney on speed

My dad always said the only way I'd ever make it to Disney World was through the Make-A-Wish Foundation. I guess it was my own fault for not getting cancer 15 years earlier.

But last week I finally managed to make it to Disney, courtesy of a free trip I won. Sure it was just two nights and we had to stay at a child-focused hotel, but it was worth it.

We got into Orlando a little before noon on Sunday, checked in at the hotel, and headed straight for Epcot. For a place whose acronym stands for Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow, I really would have expected better bathroom technology. Seriously, could they not have anticipated that the future would require more than two stalls in a ladies room?

And aside from that, I really would have hoped that the future could have worked out an automatic toilet that flushed upon completion rather than when I entered the stall.

But enough about toilets. I have so much more to criticize.

We hit all the major high points of Epcot, including the GM Test Track and the space ride inside the big silver golf ball looking thing at the front of the park. We made our way through the various countries and finished out the day by watching the fireworks display over the water.

The next day we went to the Magic Kingdom which was, thankfully, far less crowded. We made a beeline for Space Mountain as soon as they opened the gates and followed it up with It's a Small World and The Hall of Presidents.

Never having been to a Disney park before, I was a little surprised that the rides were hardly rides at all and certainly not scary. In fact, it was pretty much like going on the same ride over and over again. They herd you into a slow-moving vehicle that takes you through an indoor animatronic journey. Sometimes they change it up and you get into a fake boat instead of a fake car.

It's probably fair to say that the extent of my Disney knowledge comes from the Simpsons episode where they go to Krustyland. And that brings us to the final (and best) day of the trip when we hit Universal Studios for its new Simpsons ride.

In life, if you're lucky, you experience a few moments where it feels like things were created just for you. This is what the Simpsons ride was for me. Even waiting in line was fun as we enjoyed all the subtleties created for the ride.

After two go-rounds on the Simpsons ride, we did Disaster and Twister and the Mummy rollercoaster. By the time we went on a few more rides it was time to head back to the hotel to catch our shuttle back to the airport.

Now a note about our hotel. As I said before, we won the trip and therefore did not get a choice in where we stayed. The Nickelodeon Family Suites would have been the last place I would have stayed if I had a choice, but I really don't have any complaints. I would highly recommend it for anyone traveling with children.

Overall, I think I dealt pretty well with being out of my element, i.e. around kids. Rich reminded me that this wasn't Vegas -- we were traveling in their world.

Our time at the hotel was greatly improved once we located the bar. For the record, it takes three drinks for me to forget that I'm surrounded by screaming children.

I overheard one conversation while waiting in line for a ride and I think it was more telling than anything I could say. A little girl asked her father why her little brother was crying. The father pauses, and then say "Because it must be his turn to cry."

I honestly don't understand how parents can manage to do Disney or any other kind of vacation with kids. Traveling without kids is difficult enough. Add to that a stroller, diaper bag, snacks, and activities to keep your tired child occupied, and I no longer doubt why my parents never took us anywhere.

Mom and Dad -- You're officially forgiven. And I'm done with Disney.

Rockin' out middle school style

Please pardon me if I seem a little tired today. Last night we partied like it was 1989.

They say you can't relive your youth, but try telling that to the thousands of screaming women in their late 20s and early 30s who packed the Verizon Center in D.C. last night for the New Kids on the Block reunion concert. It was just like we were 12 again, minus the acne and pre-calculus homework. (Okay, for me maybe just minus the homework.)

We sat in the uppermost section in Row O (as in Oh oh oh oh oh.) We didn't have the worst seats in the house -- that honor went to Row P, the last row of seats in the arena. But the distance didn't matter. We were still there and they were still the same old New Kids. And per instruction, we threw our hands in the air and waved them like we just didn't care.

There was bare-chested Jordan, with his nearly disturbing falsetto, Danny with his breakdancing, Jon with his always sheepish look, and baby-faced Joey, showing off his Dancing With the Stars moves. And of course, we can't ever forget bad boy Donnie, with his Boston cap and same poor command of the English language.

The guys have aged really well. I think they're far more attractive now than back in the day. Of course I also recognize that my tastes may have changed somewhat in the last two decades or so.

I feel pretty confident in saying that the majority of the women there spent the first 30 minutes of the two-hour concert just laughing. It was a very "is this really happening?" kind of mood. I don't think any of us really thought we'd ever see that synchronized, pendulum-like swinging leg dance set to The Right Stuff ever again.

The concert structure did seem a bit disjointed at times. Clearly they planned it so that the guys would have a chance to rest (and do one of their many costume changes) between sets. They alternated between their new songs and old hits. At one point they did an "in memory" tribute to those they've lost, and included Donnie's father and Danny's mother in the same breath as Heath Ledger and Tupac. It seemed very out-of-place and inappropriate.

None of that mattered. The ladies in attendance loved every second of the show. They came decked out in painters caps, denim overalls with one flap hanging down, and big New Kids buttons. They bought $40 t-shirts like water in a desert.

For one evening, we could all remember what it was like to hang tough and live a life without responsibility. That alone was well worth the price of admission.

Wet dog: A beautiful smell

There isn't enough Prozac in the world to give me the same high I get from the annual Doggie Paddle. This is the fourth year in a row I've gone to the neighborhood pool for some dog-on-water action, and I still contend that life doesn't get any better. For two hours, all is right with the world.

All of the usual suspects were there: the gung-ho water dogs, the scaredy cats, and the dozens of wet dogs, all seemingly named Buddy. And this year featured the dog in the red collar who almost knocked me into the pool not once, but twice. My favorite though had to be the little guy who starting the swimming motion ever time his owner picked him up.

I could go on and on about how much I love this event, but I'd rather let the pictures tell the story.



Someone is a little reluctant.





"Uh huh. So if one wanted to exit the pool, how exactly might they do that?"



Don't you know the cardinal rule of perms? You always have to wait two days before washing your hair.




"This swimming thing isn't so bad. Just don't let go of me."







"Um, excuse me. That dog took my Frisbee."






"But I 'm not ready to go yet!"

Usurping the Olympic spirit

I've previously documented my extreme hatred for the Olympic games and the crappy television programming that results.

Just how many interviews with Michael Phelps' mother does anyone really need anyway?

Thankfully, the good people at Animal Planet, the network which brought us the Puppy Bowl, are there to help me through it.

Get ready for the 2008 Puppy Games. The show will air Friday night, opposite the colossal disasterpiece that has become the opening ceremonies.

My television viewing decisions couldn't get any easier than this.

Sundown

Getting thinner is usually a good thing -- but not when you're talking about my daily newspaper.

Last week the Baltimore Sun, my morning subway read, took another in its seemingly endless turns for the worst and completed an additional round of buyouts and layoffs. This cycle witnessed the loss of another 55 people.

Gone are the likes of Gregory Kane, Mike Himowitz, Roch Kubatko, Greg Garland, and John Wostendiek, as well as many behind-the-scenes players who kept the paper going every day.

Gone is a stand-alone business section.

And gone is any confidence a person could have in this once-great paper.

Yes, I'm more than just a casual news reader. I'm a media junkie, or maybe a media snob. But I also have a long history with this newspaper. I've been reading it every day since I learned to read. My very first job was selling subscriptions to The Sun.

And now, when I see an ad running on the front page of a this newspaper, I weep.

Who would have guessed that only a year after its inception, The Baltimore Examiner, the free daily tabloid, would become the big guy in town? And moreover, who would have thought it would happen due to the Sun's own self-cannibalism?

Had The Sun paid any attention to the growing popularity of the Internet, I doubt it would face such a predicament. Instead, it casts off its popular bloggers and scrambles to function with what's left. I really sympathize with the Sun staffers who must truly do more with less. I know some of them, and I know what they're facing.

At what point did it seem like a good idea for The Sun to turn its efforts to b, its youth-focused publication where an in-depth story gets no more than four inches? Every day, I face several b hawkers and I grow angrier and angrier when I think that this is how the Tribune Company views my generation.

Please believe me when I say that I really don't care about someones greatest pet peeve, as submitted by text message in less than 100 characters. I don't need the Cliff Notes version of your newspaper which amounts to little more than borrowed wire briefs and unattributed summaries.

Oh, the poor Baltimore Sun... or poor, as Sam Zell would have you believe. I'll keep reading you everyday like I have since I was in elementary school, but it'll never be the same.