PURPOSE AND POSITIVE ATTITUDE

Reading the local newspaper every morning of my adult life has had its benefits. I've scanned countless articles about keeping fit, both physically and mentally. I've seen a gazillion ads on weight loss. I understand a lot of people have been cured of devastating illnesses by simply using laughter as a daily medicine.

At my age, fitness and weight loss are not easily attained, and, if by the grace of God they are, maintaining these milestones are next to impossible. I try my best, but when a person's knees won't cooperate, and her desire for ice cream has never abated since childhood, reaching certain goals most-likely won't ever happen now. 

But because I have a glorious, and oftentimes weird sense of humor, my chances of warding off life-threatening illnessses are pretty good. My ability to see the 'funny side' in even the worst of conditions helps my body and mind tremendously. By choosing to not take everything so seriously, myself included, the weight of the world is less burdensome.

Today I read a study done in Sweden and Finland regarding positive attitude in the elderly. It showed that people over 85 who remained busy and had purpose in their lives lived more than five years longer than their sedintary, sour counterparts. Hey, at this point I'll do whatever is necessary for extra minutes on this wonderul earth!

Positive attitude is a choice! We all have aches and pains, we all experience devastation and loss. We all could very easily give in to the woes of the world and surrender. But choosing to be positive amid the many negatives we face every day, gives us the opportunity one more time to celebrate the little things we usually take for granted.

I find waking up every morning a huge accomplishment at age 70. What's even more astounding is that I can walk down the steps, take my dog out, fetch the paper (I do the fetching), brew the coffee, and then settle down for an hour of quiet alone time. 

Since I started my writing career only 3 years ago, I'm busier than ever before. In the beginning, on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, from nine o'clock until about noon, I pounded away on my computer keyboard, formulating hilarious tales for my seven grandchildren. Once I completed a book for each of them, I turned my cites to writing chapter books for tweens and teens. These stories are based upon growing up in the Fifties, and depict actual events in the lives of me and my brother, Dan.

A host of family characters are included with my Baba's house being the center of our existence. Recalling those times and typing them out for others to appreciate is such a rewarding experience. 

I'm always eager to get started, and can easily spend six to eight hours at it before needing a break.

Talk about having a purpose! You betcha!

Along with my writing, I look forward to visiting my children and their families, two in the Carolinas, and one in Ohio. What gives me great pleasure is that they are very happy to see, hubby, me and our twelve year old dog, Shadow, and welcome us with open arms. We are always on the go when visiting, so much so that busy doesn't even begin to describe it. Going to parks, ballgames, hockey rinks, swimming pools, festivals, and church are only a few of the activities lined up when we're with them. They never take into account that we're older now, and simply expect our participation. And because the see us as capable, functioning people, we act accordingly.

Purpose and positive attitude, yep, the last time I looked, I've got a ton of both of them. If that study has any validity at all, I'm sure to make 100!

Oklahoma City Bombing

I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing on April 19, 1995,when I heard about the horrific devastation in Oklahoma. I was in my office talking on the phone when one of my staff informed me that a building out West had exploded in which a daycare was housed. Facts were scarce, but it was believed that a number of children had died in the blast.

As director of a bustling preschool twenty minutes outside of Pittsburgh, the news was extremely personal. After saying a prayer for those who had perished, all I could think of was what if such a catastrophe ever happened here? If I were to be spared, what immediate actions would I undertake to save as many lives as I could? Where would I start?

My first inclination would be to dial 911, but what if the lines were inoperable? I know getting the children and staff out would be my top priority, but since I'd never devised an evacuation plan other than posting an escape route in each classroom, would that be possible?

Hearing the screams and crys of the little ones entrusted to my care would be unbearable, yet I would need to provide my charges with a soothing environment, and assurance that everything would be all right. How would I accomplish this objective and sincerely mean it?

Having required everybody employed at the school to have CPR training, would we as a group jump into action, utilizing our skills on whomever was in distress? Would we remember the techniques? Would we have the courage to even initiate them if we did indeed remember them?

And what about the severely injured? Would we have the know-how to deal with uncontrollable bleeding, head truama, limb amputation, and crushed organs? Unless there were medical professionals available, my answer would be a definite 'no.'  We would do what common sense would dictate, but unfortunately our efforts would  result in few positive outcomes.

Thankfully during my tenure, nothing like the Oklahoma tragedy ever happened at our beloved preschool. Our children and staff enjoyed a safe, happy environment where learning to share and a few scraped knees were the only emergencies we faced on a daily basis.

After the inexplicable actions of Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols on that sorrowful day, my view of a preschool director's responsibilities drastically changed. If it could happen in Oklahoma, it could happen anywhere. I no longer walked through our facility with the same care-free spirit I'd had before April 19th. Over the next five years, there always lurked a nagging fear in the back of my mind, that things weren't exactly as they appeared. Previously I had embraced a false sense of security, but now I knew better. We are only as safe as the people that come into our lives are morally grounded and mentally sane.

Yesterday I prayed for the victims and families impacted by the Oklahoma City bombing, and again realized that we are all potential targets of similar devastation. We can simply hope that we will be spared such pain throughout our lifetime, and be strong enough to live each day with happiness in our hearts and a zest for living that nobody can rob us of, even when they inflict the most hideous of brutalization.

WHEN GRAMMY GOES AWAY

WHEN GRAMMY GOES AWAY,by Flo Barnett, a pre-school director & kindergarten teacher, deals with loss of a loved one in a sensitive, age-appropriate manner.

Young children need to be able to express themselves during such difficult times no matter how atypical their behavior may be. They need to be allowed to ask questions and receive answers they can understand.

WHEN GRAMMY GOES AWAY is based on my personal experince of losing my dad when I was only three years old. In 1948, children were expected to be seen and not heard. I never knew why my father left for work one day and never came back. No one ever took the time to explain what had happened because I'm sure they thought I wouldn't understand. I was exposed to the crying and anger which normally accompanies loss, but had no idea why my family was acting that way. As a result, I became fearful and anxious. Although it's been 67 years, my dad's death has had an extreme effect on my life. Had WHEN GRAMMY GOES AWAY been written then, I believe it would have made a great impact on how I looked at loss over these many years. Do yourself and your children a huge favor, and have my book on hand for the difficult times in your lives.

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Hurray 4 Opening Day!

I know my post is extremely late for the #MondayBlogs, but I really do have good reason to be delinquent. Today was the Pittsburgh Pirates' Opening Day at PNC Park and I couldn't express my views until the final score was in the books. At approximately 4:15p.m., the Pirates (3-4) beat the Detroit Tigers (6-1) 5-4! Go, Bucs!

I wasn't at the ball park, but did watch most of the game on T.V. In the bottom of the first inning, Josh Harrison, our amazing third baseman, smashed one over the wall in center field, hitting a homerun on pitch #1 of the Home Opener. What a way to start the season, JHay!

Gerrit Cole was on the mound for the Pirates today holding the Tigers scoreless through six and two-thirds innings. Cole was superb, striking out at least 8 batters that I witnessed. However in the seventh, with his team leading 2-0, he allowed a single and two walks which loaded the bases with no outs. Clint Hurdle relieved Cole with Jared Hughes who with his first pitch, forced the runners into a double play. Now the score was 2-1. The next pitch Hughes threw was hit and caught for the third out.

Now up comes Alvarez in the bottom of the seventh. He slams one into center field which adds to the Pirates lead. Cervelli, our new catcher, gets on with a single, and Corey Hart, a pinch hitter socks one out of the park to make the score 5-1.

Game's in the bag, right? Not so fast! In the top of the eighth,Marc Melancon came in to face the Tigers; they hit two doubles and a homer, causing Pirate fans to bite their nails and clench their fists thinking that their beloved team could suffer a loss on Opening Day.

The Pirates went down in the bottom of the eighth without much of a fight. Fortunately for Melancon, his team, and the almost forty thousand fans in the seats, the Tigers faltered in the ninth, without so much as a whimper much less a growl!

Hurray 4 Opening Day!  We won!  Let's Go Bucs!

The Home Opener in Pittsburgh is considered an unofficial holiday. Dads schedule a vacation day months in advance, moms pack up the toddlers, and kids feign illness in order to be at the ballpark for this momentous occasion. Everybody plays hooky from their responsibilities to witness the rebirth of America's favorite pasttime. It happens every spring. It's been happening since I was a kid and way before that when my elders were just youngins'. I know Opening Day will remain an icon long after I've gone to that great ballfield in the sky. And you can bet that when I have that bird's eye view, I'll be cheering on the Pirates just as I did today!

BTW, Playing Hooky is the title of the first book in my When We Were Kids series. It has nothing to do with baseball, but takes place in the Fifties and focuses on family life, growing up, losing a loved one, and dealing with the consequences of our choices. Although Playing Hooky is slotted in the tweens/teens age group, parents, grandparents, teachers, and other adults are raving about it because of the many memories being conjured up throughout its pages. If you'd like to know more about this engaging book, visit Amazon.com/FloBarnett.

Jesus Christ, Super Star!

On the Thursday prior to Easter, I went to see the play, Jesus Christ, Super Star, at the Palace Theater in Greensburg, PA. Although this amazing representation of Christ's love of mankind had been around in film and on stage for decades, I'd never been privileged to see it.

What struck me most was how Christ was realistically portrayed. He wasn't this meek fellow that simply accepted his fate without question. He riled against Roman paganism, threatened the leaders with death unless they changed their ways, and fiercely fought against the agonizing torture and cruel slaughter that awaited Him. He begged His Father to release Him from the dictations of Scripture up until the last moments of His earthly existence. Although Christ was the Son of God, He was truly human as well. I think for the first time in my life I understood exactly what being human meant as far as Jesus was concerned.

I've attended Holy Week services for over sixty years, but never once did I actually realize more of what Christ went through on my behalf until I witnessed it on stage that night.. His unyielding efforts to reverse Roman beliefs, His struggles to deal with the infidelities of His apostles, His excruciating internal battles to accept what He was destined to endure, His fear and despondency over His Father's expectations, and His horrible punishment and inhumane treatment left me heartbroken. This two hour portrayal was the most impactful service I'd ever attended throughout my entire life!

Roma Downey and hubby, Mark Burnett, produced a twelve week series, A.D. the Bible Continues, which began airing on Easter night. Roma, as you may remember, was the star of Touched By An Angel, and Mark is the producer of both Survivor and Shark Tank. Roma is a devout Catholic, Mark, a devoted Christian.

After being profoundly moved by Jesus Christ, Super Star, I was compelled to watch from the beginning. Although the first show was a reiteration of the events leading up to Calvary, and the Crucifixion itself, I'm eagerly looking forward to the next eleven episodes. I want to know more details about the days following the Resurrection, and what happened to Christ's apostles over time. I want to experience the countless attempts to crush Christianity, and most importantly, I want to take pride in the tenacity and stubbornness of the men and women who refused to be denied.

Even at seventy there is much to be learned if only a person is willing to be taught!

Happy Easter!

LIFE, NEW and RENEWED by Flo Barnett

I think the story of my own birth is a good way to begin a discussion on new life. I was born in Baba's house on a September Saturday in 1944. It was suppertime, and my Mom couldn't wait for her favorite meal, steak smothered in onions, and mashed potatoes drenched in butter. Unfortunately her water broke and sent her into labor,denying her the pleasure of actually eating the dinner she'd looked forward to all day. Instead she retreated to her upstairs bedroom and waited for Dr. Stimetz to arrive. Since the good doctor lived next door, she was by my mother's side in minutes. As Mom pushed, and the rest of the family nervously waited in the hallway, eventually I entered the world, kicking and screaming, or so I'd been told over and over again while growing up. 

PASKA
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After thoroughly examining the newly-born babe, Dr. Stimetz handed me over to Baba to be cleaned and clothed. As my grandmother whisked me down the stairs and into her kitchen, she secretly rejoiced over the fact that I was a girl. Again, I know this because over the course of many years, she mentioned it at least a million times. Baba filled her huge mixing bowl with warm water, and carefully placed me inside its white walls. This was the same bowl she used every Easter when making the dough for Paska, the special Slovak bread we enjoyed only once a year during the holy season of the Resurrection. As she gently washed the afterbirth from my tiny body, Baba noticed that I appeared to be struggling to breathe. She placed me in a soft towel, dried me, and then rubbed a dollop of Vicks salve under my nose. However, because of the powerful strength of the vapors, instead of alleviating the congestion, I turned blue and stopped breathing altogether. To have this precious new life for such a short time was something my Baba refused to accept. Quickly she began CPR. Within seconds, I let out a garbled cry, and voraciously began sucking air into my deprived lungs. When Dr. Stimetz entered the kitchen, she found my Baba clutching me closely to her bosom with tears streaming down her face. In a shaky voice, she told the doctor what she had done. Dr. Stimetz comforted Baba by saying that this infant was destined to do something special since she had been given new life twice in the course of just one day, a rare medical occurrence by any standards. Whatever it was that I was meant to accomplish, I hope I've made at least some strides in fulfilling my purpose. From that life-saving moment on, my Baba and I shared a unique bond that only grew stronger and stronger with every passing year, and will remain alive and well always and forever.

Spring and Easter are favorites of mine perhaps because they arrive together with warm temps, gentle breezes, and soft rains. Both the season and the holiday are symbolic of new and renewed life. Whether coming into the world newborn, or awakening from a winter's sleep, all life is pure and fresh again. There is a joy and lightness of spirit that fills the Earth unlike at any other time of year. 

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To me, spring and Easter are synonymous with new and renewed life.There's A Baby In Mommy's Belly!, the fourth book of my 'Grammys Gang' series, explains pregnancy and birth to young children in a very funny and appropriate manner. Hammie, the illustrative version of my grandson, Beckham, is told there's a baby in his Mommy's belly and the news befuddles him. Maybe his Dad or Liam, his big brother, can set things straight, but when they fail to offer a satisfactory explanation, Hammie takes matters into his own hands. He begins spying on his mother who's constantly eating and getting fatter and fatter. One morning, while cuddling on the couch together, Mommy's tummy starts moving wildly about, scaring her son silly. At another time, with the family gathered around the dinner table, a puddle suddenly appears around Mommy's feet. Dad makes a frantic call to Grammy and then hurries Mommy off to the hospital where perhaps finally this mystery will be solved.

One important reason I wrote There's A Baby In Mommy's Belly! was to provide parents with an excellent tool to utilize when a son or daughter begins asking questions about an impending birth. The story, which is extremely entertaining, can be taken at face value, or it can be used in a more educational manner. Parents decide what, when, and how much to say depending on the child's maturity level. Even if there isn't a baby in Mommy's belly, children and adults will delight in this fast-paced, funny and factual tale as they read it again and again simply for enjoyment.

Although I'm mostly known for my 'Grammy's Gang' series, I've also written three chapter books for ages 9-99. The 'When We Were Kids' collection is comprised of three books: Playing Hooky, Puppy Love, and Pimples and Periods. These stories take place in the Fifties, 'the good old days'  which they are often called, and indeed they were. In general, life was celebrated, nurtured, and supported. The ties that bound all of us were rooted in religious beliefs, values, and ethnicity. Mostly everybody in our neighborhood attended the same church, went to the same school, and practiced the same cultural traditions.

Yet while growing up I can honestly say there were problems in society, but certainly not to the same degree in which they plague today's world. Perhaps our lives were more wholesome because of the family structure during those times. Not only was there a father and mother present, but in many cases such as my own, babas, zedos, uncles, and aunts actually lived in the household and were major factors in the growth and development of the children.

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These chapter books were written with tweens and teens in mind, but I've found that many adults, parents, grandparents, and teachers see them as an excellent way to renew a connection with their past. The baby boomers, born during the WWII era, share a special bond with the Kolinski kids, growing up and going through many of the same things that Betty Lou and Danny experienced.

Celebrating new life or life renewed gives eternal hope to all of us. Every baby born has the potential to be the person that brings peace to the world. Every child who is raised with faith,values,and morals has the opportunity to imbue his or her children with the very same ideals. Every teenager who has decided to live a life free of drugs and alcohol has opened the door for his or her peers to do likewise. And every adult who has chosen to be of service to family, friends, and all in need has been instrumental inspiring a renewal of life.

        

If you'd like to keep in touch and be the recipient of my ethnic recipes, special book offers, and entertaining blog posts both past and present, please sign up for my monthly newsletter:
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Happy Spring, Happy Easter, and Happy Life!

love ya'll

Flo

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Will the Real Dr. Phil Please Stand Up?

I've been an avid fan of the Dr. Phil Show since its inception. Originally the three o'clock hour was one of substance and solutions. People with real problems sat on stage and bared their souls in the hopes of Dr. Phil giving them the advice and help they needed to turn their lives around. Both he and I and the millions who've watched him over the years didn't expect miracles, but we believed these courageous sufferers left the show with at least a pocketful of promise.

Fast forward twelve years or so and now all you see is bad-tempered, arrogant lowlifes who see themselves as entitled and unjustly accused. After endless squabbling is allowed to go on, Dr. Phil shakes his head, reminds the participants that it is his show, and then takes a commercial break. When the show resumes, much of the same drivel continues up until the remaining ten minutes. It is then that the good doctor tells his audience he'll 'put some verbs in his sentences' right after the break.

Most of the advise he doles out in today's shows is tied to the Doctors On Demand App he and his son, Jay developed two years ago. He also plugs his new book on weight loss that took ten years to publish, The 20/20 Diet, over and over again to the point of ad nauseum.

Oftentimes during the week, Dr. Phil's wife, Robin, joins him on stage to talk about her When Georgia Smiled campaign, designed to assist battered women and children, and the Aspire App she developed to provide education, vital information, and a speed dial connection at the ready when a women decides to flee. Her efforts in the fight against abuse are commendable, even life-saving, but perhaps Robin could be a guest on the show, giving her message the full hour it deserves, instead of the piece meal appearances that are not nearly as effective.

If it sounds like I'm just trying to tear down the reputation of a celebrity icon respected the world over, I'm sorry because that is not my intention. I would love nothing more that to turn on my T.V. and watch the Dr. Phil Show of yore. I can honestly say that I couldn't wait for three o'clock to come around because I learned so much about how to deal with my own problems and be able to offer a little advice to others in need.

I miss the real Dr. Phil. Will the real Dr. Phil please stand up and do the kind of television we have come to expect of him.  Please.