Still a dreamer…Old Memories and New Hopes

Archive for the ‘memories’ Category


The Best of Everything is the way I would describe this dining experience. It seemed as if there were 7 taking care of our table of 2. Elegant with integrity and the food wonderful and memorable .

A lovely way to celebrate my April Birthday with a childhood friend. If planning a trip to NYC and you want a special time, I recommend highly . It’s pricy, but absolutely no arrogance . My friend took me and said it was worth the expense. I was delighted to be treated to such a delicious memory.

❤️🌟 85 Tenth Avenue Del Posto


Memorial Day Weekend is always a new beginning for me. The start of the summer and the flood of memories of past summers flows over me. Not in a depressing way fortunately, just remembering. It takes work on my part not to be sad. Oh sure, a pity party every now and then, but never stay too long at the party for sure.
I could list everyone and everything I am grateful for, that goes without repeating once again. I try to live in the moment and at this moment, I am so glad to be in my apartment and not going out in polluted air and heat. Very busy the last few weeks so it’s a joy to veg out……and without any guilt I might add.
Leaving next week for six wonderful family fun love. weeks in Duck, North Carolina and Richmond, Virginia. Look forward to with glee and joy.
Tomorrow night with family and then other friends until I leave….all good stuff.
Could it be better? Of course, with a new love in my life, but no way do I obsess over not having one. I know so many terrific women, all ages who have no guys in their lives. As you all know, I go on some dating sites just to see if miracles happen, and so far no. I do have a funny terrific pen pal who happens to be a comedian and laughter comes easily when reading his words.
I talk with many women,… Their words repeat themselves. “There’s no one normal out there. The men are limited emotionally or just plain awful”. I try to be positive and think it’s not possible that they’re all horrible. I would never bash men having had a wonderful husband, two great sons, two great grandsons, and a few great nephews thrown in the mix. They are “out there.” But like finding a diamond in the sand, difficult to locate.
And the few experiences in just emailing or meeting for tea/drink. “There’s no one normal out there. The men are limited emotionally and just plain awful.” Sorry guys, that’s the consensus. It is what it is and it is what it isn’t. Like life itself. I know in my heart of hearts, not all terrible.
So wishing everyone the most wonderful start of the summer and may your wishes be like stars, only better. Always there, but not necessarily able to grab. Perhaps to hold though……
By the way, no matter how grateful I am…….Valentines Day Still Sucks…….

Granny Gown….(saved—believing in the Power of Family Love)

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, I purchased a long flannel Granny Nightgown from the Vermont Country Store. Warm flannel fabric with hearts and flowers with little red buttons down the front. Quite different from the exquisite  silk negligees I was used to wearing.

At that place in time, I visited by brother and sister- in law living in  Virginia… I left things for my next visit. One was my granny gown for cold bitter nights

Too many years passed and for many reasons without a visit.

Once again, eleven years ago, visits resumed and became love fests. Family Fun Love.

The very first visit, I was surprised and very emotionally moved when Viorica, my sister-in-law handed me a bag. Inside were the few things I left so many years ago, including the gown in pristine condition.

I now look forward to my wonder-filled visits and, on bitter cold nights, wearing my pretty and practical sleep gown.

The years have passed, and I am now a GaMa and Viorica a GaGa.

Some things like love, are everlasting

“The family is one of nature’s masterpieces.”   George Santayana

(when it works, it’s everything)



My great love

My great love


My dear friend Edith passed away recently at 97. I used to visit her at The Esplanade on the Upper West Side of NYC. A Senior Residence. Now it seems whenever I go to the West Side, I think of our visits. She had a favorite saying that she would say to me almost every time we had a visit. “You take yourself wherever you go.” Little did she know she was quoting Nietzsche. “We are always in our own company.”

I miss you my wise wonderful friend.

The Feelings Never Go Away

My husband died so suddenly almost ten years ago. He was 73 and looked and acted so much younger. His death was sudden and a shock. Grief has turned, in time, to gratitude. I am so lucky to have had him in my life for almost 50 years. His pictures, energy, and love, have given me comfort. A new relationship? Not in the cards for me so far. I tried internet dating and while it might work for some, for me it would be a miracle. I’m fine, really I am with so much love and devotion from family and friends. I have a life. But, there are always those moments, and I want to share the words of Pablo Neruda from his 100 Love Sonnets, speaking of romantic love. They may give someone the emotional warmth they give me.
“If only love would spread its savor through me!-not to go one moment more without spring! What I sold into sorrow was only my hands, dearest:
now leave me with your kisses.
Shut out the month’s light with your fragrance; close all the doors with your hair. Only do not forget, if I wake up crying it’s only because in my dream I’m a lost child.
hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands, for your caresses like the wheat, the flashing rapture of shadow and energy.
O my dearest, nothing but shadow there where you walk with me through your dream: you tell me when the light returns.”
For my world to read. I love you Barry and will for the rest of my life.

One Last Attempt…..and then let it go

I thought I would ask if any followers on Blog, Twitter, or Facebook, knew anyone in Henrico County, Richmond, Virginia who by chance knew anyone who found my treasured silver link bracelet. All they need to do is contact me, or return to Regency Mall, or Henrico County Police Department. If wishing could make this happen, then I Wish, I Wish, I Wish…..Thank you kindly.

Lost…..And…..Not Found

40 years ago in Paris. We were in our 30’s. Paris is romantic at anytime of the year. This was April in Paris, and my husband wanted to buy me something special, to remind me of spending my birthday in France. A sterling silver large link bracelet was my chosen gift. The elegant shop was on the very beautiful Champs-Elysees. The price was outrageous for sterling silver. $75.00. It was exquisite. Practicing Buddhism, we are taught not to put great value on material things. This was sentiment, of the highest degree living within me. I treasured my silver bracelet and wore it almost everyday. I lost my silver bracelet. Visiting in Richmond, Virginia has been and always will be a family fun experience. I love and am loved on a daily basis. So, it was devastating to me that in this love fest atmosphere, I lost my silver bracelet. My last post on this blog was called “Mysterious Large Black Handbag” about finding one in the lady’s room in NYC, and how gratifying it was to reunite the owner and the bag……..and now this. Guess one good deed does not always produce another, but kindness must prevail even when not returned. My treasured bracelet just vanished from my wrist. It was so heavy, I would have heard it fall. Where could it be? Who knows except the finder. We were in many parking lots, and just as many shops. Wal-Mart to Sephora, and a few in between. Phantom feelings of my bracelet still on my wrist exist. Tears flow quickly when I think of my birthday with my husband in Paris so many years ago. I can’t even imagine someone else wearing my bracelet. We searched. Oh how we searched. Over and over again in all the same places. Under the bed, in the closet, thinking it was stuck on a piece of clothing I wore, could it have fallen in a drawer, under the bed once again. In every nook and cranny in the car. Places my fingers couldn’t even reach it was so tight, I still tried to reach. I was beginning to become obsessive. At least I knew not to look in the refrigerator. A friend lost her cell phone and there it was, among the cheeses and egg cartons. I called the Henrico County Police Department to make a report. We made signs for the car window, for the little café to put on their door, the calls over and over again to the stores Lost and Found, each time hoping this time, they would say “it is here, your bracelet.” A free ad to run three days in the Richmond Times Dispatch. We did it all, we tried everything. Proving something sad to me. There are some people who wouldn’t think of returning something that didn’t belong to them. Unheard of for me to even think in that way…….and then the others who reached out just to say I understand. My family, my friends. Twitter friends tweeted as far away as Japan, Egypt, Spain, Italy, and many other places. A wonderful community of care. The Lovely Land of Twitter. A woman named Barbara read the ad and felt she had to call. Quickly she said she was sorry she didn’t have the bracelet, but wanted to know if she could help in anyway. She lost a treasured ring when she was a young girl and never forgot, given to her by her now deceased parents. She related. I knew after 5 days, I had to let go. When you lose, the missing is intense. Knowing that replacing is impossible. What was lost was priceless. Loss is a loss forever……..My husband died 9 years ago. Loss, like a diamond in the sand.
“Oh no Paulette. I’m heart broken with you. How sadly ironic that you share this story so shortly after you were able to spare another such hurt. I don’t see your reaction as materialistic. It’s just that it really does hurt when we face loss. I’m glad you had such a great run with your sterling silver bracelet, and I’m holding out hope that somehow it finds its way back to you.”………written by Angie from Arizona. A Twitter friend with kindness and compassion. Thank you lovingly dear Angie.

Screams of a Child 1941/Fears of a Woman, Forever

She was born with a bit of uniqueness, some thought enchanting…but all knew of her acute sensitivity. Quietly observing, painfully shy until high school where she flourished. She was amazed when a classmate told her at the 25th reunion, he always thought she marched to the song of a different  drummer. She knew, but unaware others noticed. She was fortunate to have friends who appreciated her cadence. She loved singing as a child, and any animal she could hug or kiss, even a goldfish. She gave personalities to inanimate objects, and thought she heard grass cried when mowed. Her singing concerts were once a week, lining up every stuffed animal to attend, and of course she knew they enjoyed. When she was about six years old, the doctor told her mom to bring her to the office for a visit, knowing it wasn’t routine,  under the pretense  she would sing for him. Mothers didn’t question the validity of doctors opinions in “those days.” So, off they went to the doctor, her music folder in hand. She was so excited to sing Poor Buttercup. She knew many Gilbert and Sullivan songs. She remembers vividly all the details of that day. She opened her lips to sing, and the doctor clamping something on her mouth. She remembers screaming, and he told her to keep screaming mother to keep her mouth opened. Her tonsils, and so much more were cut that day in that office. She later found out, she was not alone with her nightmare.. Many children in “those days” had very much the same experience, but this little one was shattered by the trauma, and carried  fear of doctors her entire life. Her singing was silenced. When the school doctor arrived once a year, she would hide, and the teachers had to go find her. When she was in her 30’s, she was at a party, and during a social conversation with a child psychiatrist, she told him her story. “How you grew up not hating your mother is a miracle.” Seems you transferred all your fears and mistrust to physicians. “I don’t know, she replied. I guess I just thought she was following doctors orders, at that time.”   Years later, at a weekend writing workshop at Skidmore, an exercise was to bring in a childhood photo of yourself.  Told to look at the photo, and say the first words that come to mind. “I wish I could have been your mother, she said softly, I would have recognized you.”