Winning the Lottery

The joys of her heart

Winning the Lottery-
As a gratitude exercise, I often mentally run through all the “gifts” I’ve been given. Not tangible gifts. The life ones.  I call them the "Life Lottery Wins." Sometimes they’re trivial (like realizing I already hoarded toilet paper so when a pandemic hits, I’m at least prepared in that department) and sometimes they’re much more serious, like the gift of having a healthy and living mother.
I do NOT take this gift for granted. I’ve been reminded too many times by my friends who have lost their mothers too soon (too soon as defined by young, middle or old- it's always too soon). I know I’m lucky. Thank you for reminding me to keep this at the top of my Lottery Win list.

I admit though that I roll my eyes maybe a bit too often. And the questions at the kids' games????.....definitely drive my crazy ( Is that boy on Johnny's team? Was that a foul?  That wasn’t G’s fault was it? on and on and on)
My mother lives only a few miles away. Of course this has been helpful over the years particularly with my children, her only two grandchildren. She’d help care for the children when they were young. And when the children got older, she was always there to help with pick-ups and drop-offs. Living close by has also made coming to the kids' sporting events common. While in attendance, she is famous for taking her “walks” around facilities and buildings. “Too much stress,” she says. So she comes to the games but doesn’t always watch them?? She prays a lot too at the games. We’ve discussed that it’s probably not ok to ask God for her granddaughter to get that hit, or for her grandson to make that basket. But I think she still does. She’s developed a system. I’m assuming she’s worked it out with God.  She is good at things like that. She is also cute beyond words.

She is also an incredibly interesting person with a variety of hobbies and talents, and deep wells of knowledge. She is often seen walking through the neighborhood, and people in town will tell me, “I saw your mom walking yesterday.” She will strike up conversation with anyone and it’s almost always received well. How many people tell me “I met your mom at the nail salon.”! And she likes to throw my name around like I’m a celebrity. Her grandkids’ names too. She’s just always looking to connect to people. I think it comes from her city spirit: people all around all the time. Speaking of city, she can go full Brooklyn on you if the circumstance is warranted. In general, I wouldn’t mess with her. 
And speaking of Brooklyn, the kids and I like to count how many minutes it takes for her to weave into the conversation that she is from Brooklyn. She is very proud of that fact. No one will ever forget that time a man from Illinois who discovered my mother grew up in Brooklyn made the mistake of saying, "Awww, I am sorry for you." As in pity. With finger waving in his face, she said, “Listen up, Chicago, I grew up in the greatest borough in the greatest city in the world. Yeah I feel bad for YOU!" Tail between his legs, wounded poor “Mr. Chicago” limped away. He learned his lesson. She knew it was her responsibility to set that record straight. So she did.

(Coney Island)
 which happens to be in
 the greatest borough of
the greatest city in the world.

Back to her gentler side, my mom enjoys attending the Senior Center in town. She takes art and writing classes. Her poems are beautiful, and she’s completed one chapter of her autobiography. It’s so good. Actually her life story is a great one with so much to write about. A story of overcoming enormous hardship, growing up in an Italian American neighborhood, a story of the power of a grandmother’s love, a story of redemption, and acceptance, and forgiveness and healing and growing.

She’s so smart too my mother. She pretty much knows everything. From finances to beauty products to landscaping to cooking. (What an amazing cook!)
She’s compassionate, loving, fierce, funny, interesting, knowledgeable, and strikingly beautiful.
I am lucky to have her and luckier to be able to know and appreciate her, as woman to woman, mother to mother.
Yup, my biggest Lottery Win.

My mom with her grandmother, the first love of her life

me  and my mom.....

Great Uncle Larry

He’s my great uncle.  The great indicates that he is not my direct uncle, but rather my father’s uncle.  Funny though because “great” in this case has that double meaning.  To put it simply, he is, just an all-around incredible human being and I am so honored to be able to call him my Great Uncle Larry.

He is my grandmother’s younger brother.  The grandmother I never met but for whom I was named.  She was gone long before I was born- died and buried by her 40th birthday.  She left behind a husband, my grandfather, and three children, the oldest one my father. These are the nephews and niece of Lawrence Maffetone.

   After his sister died, Lawrence took an even more active role in the lives of his nephews and niece. He attended (and still does) all the important events in their lives. He has been supportive in their endeavors (and still is).  He has guided, cared for and loved them all this time.  His commitment has extended into the lives of their children as well (that includes me).   Despite having a family of his own, he was always there for all of us and continues to be to this day.

It is such a blessing for me that my children as well have the opportunity to know and love their Great, Great Uncle Larry.  (an even more fitting title)

His Story

Lawrence Maffetone was born in 1924 to two immigrant parents, the youngest of three children.  He grew up in Brooklyn, New York.  While his parent spoke both Italian and English, Lawrence would learn to speak English. (Although he does pretty well speaking Italian as well.)

When Lawrence was five years old, his father passed.  Times were financially difficult for the family but they made do with what they had.  As a young man, Lawrence spent a good deal of time with his older sister, Rose, and her husband, Nick.  Then came the war.

Lawrence joined the United States Army at age 17. Within a short time, he rose in the ranks and became a lieutenant.  He was stationed in France, Germany, and Austria and was part of the 69th Infantry.

In May, 1945, Lawrence and his crew entered Mauthausen Concentration Camp hidden in the hills of Austria where they liberated the remaining survivors.   He will never forget the atrocities he had seen there.  (He has asked me more than once to make sure that no one ever doubts the Holocaust. He remembers the details too vividly; he will never forget)

Ironically, in this dark, sad place during this dark, sad time, Lawrence, of all things, met and fell in love with a young beautiful Italian girl from Venice. (Vanda was working with the Italian underground against Mussolini.) She and a friend were standing on a corner in Austria looking at a map.  According to her version, two handsome US soldiers stopped and asked, “Are you lost?”

After that brief encounter, a courtship ensued.  They communicated via Italian/American dictionary for 9 months.   According to the legend, he promised her that he would show her the world.  She believed him. True to his character, he kept his word.  They got married at her church, St. Marks, in Venice.  Vanda became what is known as a war bride and back to New York they went where they led a blissful, adventurous, “seeing the world” kind of marriage.

They had one wonderful daughter, Monica.

Through the GI Bill, Lawrence was able to attend Fordham University and later NYU for graduate school.  He taught high school for 11 years, and then he became an assistant principal at PS 142 in Red Hook Brooklyn. Eventually he became the principal of PS 172 in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. He retired from education in 1984.  He worked part time teaching at NYU and LIU until his wife’s health needs required him to be home.

In addition, Lawrence remained in the Army reserve for many years.  This consisted of work one night per week or one weekend per month and a stint in Army camp for two weeks during each summer. He would eventually retire as Lieutenant Colonel.  For many years, Lawrence was an honored guest marching with his infantry in all kinds of parades including the famous NYC St. Pat’s Day parade.   

Now, at age 94, Lawrence continues to go to Hofstra University three times a week participating in the PEIR program (Personal Enrichment In Retirement).  He takes and gives classes in history, politics, the arts, health, and music.   

Our Story

I have clear memories as a child spending time with my Uncle Larry.  He would always ask, “What do you want to be when you grew up?”  At one point, I must have mentioned that I wanted to be an artist.  He thought it was a noble and cultured idea and told me that I should set my sights for studying art at the University of Bologna.  I had no idea what he was talking about but I agreed; My Uncle Larry knew everything, so University of Bologna must have been just right.

To me, my uncle was all things cultured and rich, not necessarily in money, but in intellect, in art, in music, in food, in wine, in conversation, in ideas, in knowledge.  In my early 20’s I attended my first (of only 2) operas because Uncle Larry took me. At his home, we would eat interesting food combinations that I still love today: prosciutto and melon, and stuffed pork roast with an apricot/horseradish dipping sauce to name a few.  These were not typical foods a little girl was exposed to.  I was a picky eater but not at Uncle Larry’s house.  His home was filled with exotic things from all around the world.  Art, real art, hung on his walls.  I was taking it all in as it was so different from anything I had seen before.

Years later, I decided not to be an artist or attend the University of Bologna.  He wasn’t disappointed though because I decided to become a teacher.  Uncle Larry approved. “What a noble career choice,” he told me. It always felt good to know he was proud of me.

Once in my late twenties, I saw Uncle Larry at a family event.  We talked like we always did.  He asked me what I was teaching in school and I shared about a new book series our school district had adopted to teach US History.  It was a series of short books called, The Story of Us written by Joy Hakim.  When I saw Uncle Larry again at the next event, he was so excited to tell me he went straight to the library, took out the series, and read every word from every book.  He agreed with me that this was a great way to read and learn about history.   With Uncle Larry’s approval, again, I knew I was on the right track.

Several years ago, he had a conversation with my mother about her father’s service in WW2.  My mother shared whatever information she could gather about her father’s service and Uncle Larry urged her to write a letter to the US Government detailing the heroism her father clearly demonstrated during the war.  My mother wrote that letter.  As a result, my mother’s father, Salvatore Mannino, was posthumously granted the medals of honors he deserved including the Purple Heart.  These medals are framed for display in my mother’s home. They would not be there except for Uncle Larry’s guidance and thoughtfulness.

Funny Times

One of my favorite stories was right after the historic 2008 election.  Our family had a gathering and Uncle Larry was given explicit, strict instructions to NOT discuss politics.  Everyone agreed that this was not the time or the place to engage in that kind of discussion.  Everyone agreed including, so we thought, Uncle Larry.  In he walked, in his usual attire, suit, tie, and hat.  I can still see it.  He took his hat off, used it to cover his heart and announced, rather loudly, “Robert, What did you think about the election?  It was one of the proudest days of my life.” Everyone froze.  Didn’t we review this?  What happened?  But still, he was 84 at the time, a war hero, a family legend, an icon.  Truth is he could say what he wanted.  And that was that!

In January of 2017, I saw Uncle Larry again.  I was telling him about the Women’s March I would be attending in a few weeks with my friends and family.  He was so proud I would be out there marching.  (I know he would have been there too if he could).  I told him that I wanted to make a sign for the march but was having trouble coming up with what I wanted to say.  I asked him if he had any ideas.  “Let me think about it,” he said.  Many hours passed and the wine was finished.  After a short nap, Uncle Larry woke up and said, “I’ve got it! I know what your sign should say.”  I was so excited.  I had told him that I wanted something smart but sassy, something important but funny, strong and meaningful- maybe a play on words.  I couldn’t wait to hear his idea.  Everyone was filled with great anticipation.  What wise words we all knew we would soon hear.  

He stood up proudly and said, “Your sign should say ‘Save Social Security’.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.  It was clear and important and surely to the point. But not exactly what I was aiming for.  I ended up making a few different signs. Interestingly enough, my mother’s sign said this, “Save Social Security and Medicare.”  She thought it was the exact right sentiment to share.

Speaking of social security, one time I made a blunder that mixed up historical events…. To Uncle Larry.  We were discussing social security and I had been trying to get a sense of my families’ immigration experience.  Who better to ask than Uncle Larry?  I was wondering how my great grandparents were able to work in America without social security numbers.  Whoops!

“Now Roseann,” he said, “when did social security start?”

Damn! “FDR” I meekly responded trying to redeem myself.  I then got a most interesting lecture about what life was like for senior citizens before social security and of course learned something new. Then I got the other lecture, about the great FDR.  To hear Uncle Larry talk and share his insight; if only every family could have an Uncle Larry…..

Serious Times

In 2018, two months after yet another school shooting, Uncle Larry asked me what I thought about teachers being armed in schools.  I went on my tirade of needing specialized training, that using a gun in times of crisis should only be for highly trained individuals, how dangerous it could be, etc.  Uncle Larry then asked me, “do you think you could kill someone?”  We were at the dinner table.  I didn’t quite know where he was going.  I started rambling, “Well if it’s a person, shooting up others, I mean, if it’s a bad guy.  I mean if it’s a student, then it would be hard.  But if it’s a killer, a bad guy…….”  I was floundering.

I waited for his response while he slowly continued to eat his dinner.  It felt like an hour had gone by. He put his fork and knife down and said, “I had to kill people during the war you know.  Bad guys. Nazis.”  And that was all he said about it.  And that was all he needed to say. Perspective from a man who has lived it, from a man who knows, from a hero, from a wise, reflective soul.  It’s a wisdom I can trust.  I have shared that story countless times.

And the stories, oh the stories……He recently told us about what he remembers when he was in the south during the forties; how uncomfortable he was with the Jim Crow laws firmly in place; how he knew how inherently wrong it was.  These memories haunted him and would have a profound impact on his views of racism in America.  Years later, he would watch, champion, and cheer the Civil Rights Movement. 

*I could probably continue to write another 4 pages of stories but I’ll stop here as I believe I have adequately made my case.  

Cheers, Salute, Cent’ ani

To my Great Uncle Larry- A man so far ahead of his time.  A man who championed Civil Rights, Women’s Rights, Workers Rights:  A liberal lion as we like to call him.  And a true, old fashioned gentleman.  A devoted husband, a loving father, a caring grandfather and great grandfather, and an amazing, great uncle.

Basketball: Sport and Art

So sad that basketball season is over.  I have written about other sports my children have participated in,  but not basketball ...... until today.  I never played as a kid with the exception of HORSE or a lame game of one on one here and there.  Being on the taller side, I would often get asked, "you play basketball?"  Sadly the answer was no.  I was never coordinated enough; I can't do a layup, not even a fun easy one with no defenders to contend with. (In my opinion, a layup is much harder than it looks and the wrong expression to use for doing something easy!)  I have a terrible shot and the endurance needed to play the game is/was beyond my capability.  I didn't grow up watching basketball either.  So it wasn't until my children started playing that I too started to learn about the game. 

I have come to appreciate the sport in the same way I appreciate art because I have concluded that this is what basketball is; it's a dance really.  Think about the way the athletes use their body to "box out",  to hit the layup AND draw the foul.  How about the form needed to make a free throw- starts in your toes, through your knees, hips, core, shoulders, elbow, all the way to your fingertips.  Consider the dance with the four other partners, the awareness of each teammates' locations on the court, the screen sets, the swing.  I know this sounds silly, but basketball is a beautiful sport.  (Especially when a carefully designed play is executed as designed!)

I found myself serving as an assistant coach years ago for my son's developmental team, a total joke of course, but the kids were little and what harm could I really do? "Your job is to get this ball in that basket.  And then try not to let the other team get the same ball in that basket." Basketball in its simplest form.  

Of course, over the years, I have learned a few more aspects of the game:  offensive plays, defensive plays, all the MILLIONS of things happening at once.  

It's just 5 people out there, on stage, exposed, no place to hide, no helmets or equipment to sneak a second of solace, no moment to catch one's breath, and all on a well lit court.  It's seriously rough out there too, far more physical than most people realize.  

And win or lose, it's always so much fun even making the stomach-ache worth it.

My two lesson take-aways:

1)  Playing a team sport is the recursive reminder of how society works.  We are all in this together, in this game, this life, this world on a team.  We rely on each other and make the passes, the blocks, set the screens, and make the steals in order to move forward.  We cannot do this alone. So we get at it together. 

2) Take the time to look at things we enjoy in new lights, observe, truly watch, breathe it in.  Art is surely a gift from heaven, here for us to enjoy.  And the beauty of art surrounds us so much and so often that  we sometimes miss it.  If we can take a moment outside the experience, we'd gain a whole new view.  It's worth that moment. 

I feel so fortunate to have had the opportunity to fully appreciate this sport of basketball, the "Sporting Dance" as I have come to see it.  And so sad to say goodbye.  For now.

Happy 14th Birthday-Welcome to the Sisterhood

Dear Giana, 

Today is your 14^th birthday.  I am so proud of the woman you are becoming but I will save that for a private message.  

Three weeks ago, we had your first undergarment shopping experience.  You said, “Wow, Mom, being a woman is expensive”.   

To that I say, “yeah, it sure is!”

A week later, you had your first serious leg shaving incident. 

 To that I say, “It will not be your last!”

One week ago, you attended the Women’s March on Washington and made history. 

 To that I say, “I officially welcome  you to the Sisterhood.”

And now that you are part of the Sisterhood, I ask that you understand a few things.  Be a good friend: this means first and foremost to not be judgemental.  It also means that you should always try to show-up and to listen. It means gather an eclectic group of friends from all different backgrounds who will teach you new things, who will be loyal to you, and who will always have your back.  Make sure you always have their backs.   Be there for them when they ask.  Be there for them when they don’t ask.  Never give up your friends for a romantic relationship. That’s it. The Sisterhood Code. Your "Sisters" will get you through some really hard times and be there with you for your most joyful. I promise you that.

I want you to know that I will never stop fighting for you.  That I will never stop fighting for you to be able to walk down a dark street without fear.  I will never stop fighting for you to be able to have fun at a party and not be rape material.  That you won’t have to walk on the other side of the street.  That you will have fair pay for your work.  That you will have proper healthcare and a real paid maternity leave if you decide to have children.  And speaking of having children, I will fight for you to own your own reproductive choices whatever they may be.  

I love you baby girl.  My smart, funny, kind, and, yes, beautiful daughter.

 I will never stop fighting for you. And all the girls!

Love,

Mommy

I March For, I Stand With, We Rise Up

Next week, I march.  I march for……and I stand with…… and  I Rise Up!
 

“We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare of, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity do ordain and establish this constitution for the United States of America.”  There it is.  The Preamble.  Our nations “mission statement”.  I know it by heart.  Truly with heart and soul.  (Sometimes I have to sing the song that goes with it) But I have it committed to memory.  Because I believe in it.  Because it matters.

I am the great-granddaughter of immigrants: immigrants with a third grade education who came to this country at the turn of the century, who settled in the lower east side of NYC only to live in more deplorable conditions than they ship that brought them here. 

They worked in the garment district.  They worked hard. But early on they fell in love with the ideals of their new country; the country they would soon call their own.  They did it all so the next generation could have the opportunity promised to them by the ideals set forth in the Preamble of the United States Constitution.

To be able to Rise Up. ”Secure the Blessing of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity”

None of my grand-parents, first generation Americans, graduated high school.  All of their grandchildren have post-graduate degrees. Hard work mixed with opportunity and fairness and love all taught to me; how exactly to Rise Up! I am a living example of the American Dream.  And I believe in that too with all heart and soul; that this is the foundation of our great nation.

I am the granddaughter and great niece of decorated World War 2 veterans who fought bravely for the country they loved, all first generation Americans.  Both of my grandfathers were purple-heart recipients.

I am the step-daughter of a United States Naval Boatswain's Mate Seaman who was sent on a ship one night in 1962 to sit in the Caribbean Sea outside the shores of Cuba.

They were all asked to Rise Up.  And they did.

I was a “liberal” before I ever knew what the word liberal meant. “I pledge allegiance to the flag……… and Liberty and Justice for all.” Since as far back as I can remember, human rights have been my thing. I believe in humanity.  That all people are equal.  That all people deserve the blessings of liberty.  That all people should be allowed the opportunity to Rise Up.

Immediately after the Preamble comes the 7 Articles, and then the Amendments, 27 in all. The first 10 are called The Bill of Rights.  Now the very first amendment- let’s talk about that. 

The First Amendment says: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

So the creators of this amendment not only intended to protect our freedom of speech but most likely hoped this measure would insure that whatever contradictions existed in the constitution at the time (and there were many) would be available for self-correction as history would unfold.  They knew it was a living document and that it could only be improved by the people, for the people, and that the injustices within could be corrected though this “redress of grievances”.  And Hallelujah, it has! Over the course of our short history as a nation, people have protested, people have assembled, the press has exposed injustices, and, as a result, our country has grown closer and closer towards the ideals for which it was initially founded, the mission statement, the Preamble, “secure the blessings of liberty”.  

Those same founding fathers call to us from the graves; they call for us to Rise Up.  They said then and they say now that not only is it our right to peacefully protest, our right to assemble, and our right to march but it is, in fact, our civic duty to do so.

It will require us to Rise Up.

So next week, I march for, I stand with, and I Rise Up.

I march for all the times I was afraid.  (I am not afraid anymore).

I march for my daughter.

I march for my son.

I march for my immigrant great grandparents. 

I march for my mother and my grandmothers and my aunts.

I march for the sisterhood.

I march for the brotherhood.

I march for the children; for all the children but especially for those with disabilities.
I march for the elderly and the sick.

I march for my friends: my friends of every race, religion, ethnicity, immigration status, and sexual orientation.

I march for the friends I have yet to meet.

I march for the strangers I may never meet.

I march for the founders of this country who made sure I could march.

I march for those who have marched before me.

I march for country.

I march for love.

I march for peace.

I march for equality

I march for fairness.

I march for liberty for all.

I march for justice for all.

If you don’t already know the Preamble, today would be a good day to learn it.

Next week, I march for.  Today and everyday I stand with. Today and everyday We Rise UP!

The Women's March on Washington, January 21, 2017?   yeah, I'll be there.  

Lights for the Softball Field

A few years back, our town finally installed lighting, shade providing dugouts, and a scoreboard for some of our softball fields. Our girls finally had a proper softball home!!! We all applauded at the ceremony when the lights were turned on for the first time.

Some attending the event spoke the words, while others thought them silently.  “The boys already had beautiful fields with lights, dugouts, and score boards.  Why has it taken so damn long?”

Over the course of our country’s history, sexual discrimination at times has been both overt and subtle. 

It takes only a few viewings of the popular TV show, Madmen, to get a sense of what women went through just a mere 50 years ago.  When I first gave birth to my daughter, I remember distinctly feeling both excited and terrified.  Excited for obvious reasons, but mostly that I might be rewarded with a best friend someday.  But terrified too, because I knew the world can be particularly unkind to girls and women. That things like education, work, and life can be a little harder. Because I know that women are more susceptible to becoming targets of violence and crimes against them.  I silently prayed that the world simply be kind to her.  (Little did I know that I had given birth to a strong-willed, strong-minded little person who would grow up to be everything I’d like to be). 

This last week I reflected on some of my own experiences regarding being a woman, like the times I felt strong because of it and the times I felt vulnerable because of it.  And the times I thought, “this is unfair.”

And I started to wonder, how much progress we have made in the past 100 years.

Here is a list  JUST from my lifetime starting in 1970.

1) A woman’s employer could change the job title so that they could pay women less money until 1970.  Schultz v. Wheaton Glass Co.

2) A woman could be discriminated against at Public Educational Institutions and be denied participation on basis of sex until 1972.

(TITLE IX)

3) A woman would not be acknowledged for running in the Boston marathon until 1972.

4) A woman could not make a decision regarding her own reproductive rights until 1973. (Roe V. Wade)

5) A woman could not apply for her own credit card until 1974. (Equal Credit Opportunity Act).

6) A woman could not legally charge her husband for raping her until 1976 in Nebraska. (Was made illegal in all 50 States in 1993.)

7) A woman could be fired or denied a job or promotion because she was or could become pregnant until the Pregnancy Discrimination Act in 1978.

8) While women were admitted into Military Academies, they could not participate in combat missions until 2013.

Between 1970 and 1979 the number of women in colleges increased by 60 percent (related much to Title IX!). For the first time in history more women were going to college than men.

There have been other legislative measures including Lilly Ledbetter and the Violence Against Women Act designed to address fair pay and protection of women respectively.

The subtle message that women are weaker and in need of protection is naturally offensive to many; and yet there is a particular vulnerability that women face since they are far more likely to be victims of violence especially by someone they know. This sometimes sends conflicting messages.  Yes, women are strong and capable.  And Yes, also, they are more easily victims of violent crimes.

*Rape and sexual assault are still alive and well. 

*Women still don’t earn the same wages for the same work. 

*More women live in poverty than men. 

Just recently another cable news network is under investigation for allegations of sexual harassment and sexual discrimination.

When I went on maternity leave, I was required to use my accrued sick days.  It turns out, that after achieving perhaps the greatest physical feat a human can endure (delivering and caring for a baby),  I was "sick".  I wondered how is this considered “sick”?  In fact I would like to argue now that the experience is quite the opposite. Sustaining life, delivering a baby, and caring for her or him, is a result of health and strength and power.  

While there is still much to overcome, it is good to know we are moving in the right direction.  This week was surely a celebration for all women, for all Americans, and for all humanity. 
The lights are on (at least on the softball field)!