Ellen Gable's Blog, page 132

Fiction Friday – Passport by Christopher Blunt

Today's Fiction Friday excerpt is from an outstanding and award-winning contemporary Catholic novel called "Passport." Read my review here. The author is offering to give away a free copy of his novel to one of my readers. Leave a comment below to be entered to win a free book!

I should have lifted the car higher before I went to work on it. The rusted exhaust bolt was proving impossible to loosen without more leverage, and I wondered why I'd assumed this would be so easy. Should I give it one more shot of lubricant? Or give up and lift the ancient Mercedes higher?

The howling bark Flash gave as he charged across the garage floor, feet slipping on the concrete, snapped me off this rambling train of thought. I twisted my head toward the open door, but I couldn't see much: just a small pair of tennis shoes, at the bottom of two jeans-clad legs, with Dalmatian paws running circles around them. I tried to slide out on the creeper, but I couldn't get a grip on anything to push against. Rocking my back didn't help. I was stuck.

Sneakers and dog paws approached the back of the car, and then I could see even less. The knees bent, and a face appeared under the bumper. Silky black hair hung down to her shoulders, and she brushed some of it away from her glasses as she peered into shadows. I managed to rotate the shop light in her direction, and she shaded her eyes with one of the tiniest hands I'd seen on an adult. I instantly recognized this was her left hand. A quick scan revealed no jewelry. Over the last seven years of "Wife Quest," that scan had been honed to a reflex.

"Hi," she smiled nervously, holding Flash off her face. "I am looking for Stan," except she pronounced it "Stahn." "Is Stahn here?"

"That would be me," I replied. "Stan Eigenbauer. Except there's a problem. I'm stuck under here."

"Can I help?" she asked.

"Yeah. Problem is, I can't get enough leverage to push myself out. Can you just grab one of my feet and start pulling?"

I heard a laugh, then felt two little hands encircle my ankle. It took just a bit of a tug before I'd moved enough to grab the car's axle. From there, it was easy to push the rest of the way out and sit up.

"Thanks," I said. "Sorry about that."

I climbed to my feet and brushed off my overalls. The top of her head came to about the middle of my chest.

"What can I do for you?" I asked.

She didn't answer immediately. She seemed fascinated by the vintage Volvos and Mercedes in various stages of restoration, the rows of wrenches hanging in size order on the wall above my work bench, and the myriad other specialty tools and implements. She turned and gave a blank look, as if she couldn't remember why she'd come. "Oh!" she exclaimed at last, "Angie said perhaps it is possible for you to repair my car. But I do not see any cars here that look like mine. My car is running really bad."

Her English was nearly perfect, just heavily accented. The way she ran the words together, she sounded almost frantic.

"How do you know Angie?" I asked.

"I attended a class she was teaching at a church, a few years ago."

Good Catholic girl. Attractive. Angie sent her over to me. This could be interesting.

"She's really nice, isn't she? Haven't seen her in a couple of weeks. She must be busy trying to finish up with school." I grabbed a rag and wiped my hands as she followed me toward the service bay door. "Your car's out here?"

She pointed to one of the sorriest excuses for a Honda Civic I'd ever seen. A layer of grime covered everything, the passenger door was bashed in, and one of the taillights had red tape holding it together. As I pulled the hood release, she exclaimed, "Oh! So that is how it opens!"

The motor wheezed like it was begging to be put out of its misery. "How long you had this thing?" I asked.

"I am not certain. Perhaps three years?"

"What've you had done to it since you got it?" I asked, more loudly, struggling to be heard over the engine.

"I took it to one of those oil change places once, but a long time ago."

I reached above my head, grabbed the hood, and glanced over at her. She was little, and so cute in her helplessness. "Tell you what," I said at last, hero impulse surging through me, "let me bring all the basic maintenance up to date. I'll change the oil, flush the radiator, change the filters, and give you new spark plugs."

She nodded like she understood, but it was unconvincing.

"Let's see how it runs then. If there are still problems, we can look at them. But maybe that'll take care of it."

"What will that cost?" she asked, brow furrowed with concern.

"At any other place, probably several hundred dollars. They'd rip you off, and still say your car needed more work."

Her eyes got really big.

"But I'll just charge you for the parts. I like seeing Angie's friends happy. That's enough for my time." I wanted to add, "For a good-looking girl like you."

"How do you do that, and stay in business?" she asked.

"I'm not really in business. The old cars here are mine. I have a friend who hauls them from California. I make them run perfect, and sell them in Chicago, where no one can find cars like these."

"So why do you work on my car?"

"I work on a few people's cars, on the side, under the table, when they're sent by friends. It's not illegal or anything, because it's basically at cost."

"In Vietnam," she laughed, "everything is done under the table and on the side."

"Yeah," I chuckled, "big government'll do that to you. You need a ride home?"

She looked surprised, as if she hadn't thought that far ahead. "I was going to try to find a bus. But if you do not mind, sure."

I called Flash, and he jumped into the back seat of my 1968 300 SEL. The girl looked surprised as I opened the passenger door for her, but she climbed in and smiled again. Her feet barely reached the floor. "Not sure I have ever ridden in a Mercedes," she said, looking around at the car's cavernous body.

I maneuvered the car down the alley, jogged over to Clark Street, and cruised north past a block or two of shabby storefronts. "Take Lawrence over to Broadway and go north," she instructed.

As the high stone walls of St. Boniface Cemetery came into view at Clark and Lawrence, I said a quick silent prayer for my parents, as I always tried to remember to do—and then had to turn my attention to navigating the early evening congestion on Lawrence.

"You know," I said, once we settled in at a traffic light, "I never got your name. I'm going to need that, and your phone number, so I can let you know when your car's ready." I couldn't remember a better excuse to get a woman's phone number.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I am Trinh. Trinh Le. I will write my work number and home number for you."

I gazed out the window, at kids laughing and racing their scooters on the sidewalk, as she fumbled in her purse. We turned north onto Broadway, and were headed straight toward the Southeast Asian district. "You mentioned Vietnam. You Vietnamese?"

"Correct," she said, finding a pen and paper.

It was warm for early April, and I slid the sunroof open. Flash whimpered, so I flipped the lever and lowered his window. He perched his front paws on the door and stuck his muzzle out.

Once Trinh handed me the paper, I continued my investigation. "Lived in Chicago long?"

"Ever since I came to America. Ever since . . . eighteen years now. I was thirteen when I came here."

She looked young for 31, and there wasn't anything in particular about her slight frame that was obviously beautiful, but she was cute. The accent, and the way she spoke English without using contractions, were especially so. Her attractiveness came from everything taken as a whole. The more I looked at and listened to her, the more attractive she seemed.

"How long have you worked on Mercedes?" she asked.

"About as long as I can remember. My dad was a professional mechanic, and had me working on stuff basically as soon as I could walk."

"Oh, turn right here," she said.

We pulled onto Argyle, the heart of "New Chinatown," and now almost everyone out enjoying the sunny afternoon appeared to be of Southeast Asian descent. All the shops seemed to have signs in English and Vietnamese or Thai, and the dinnertime smells wafting from the restaurants were making me hungry. I made a mental note to pick up some carry-out on the way home.

Passport has a brand new Facebook page and is available on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2009 Christopher Blunt

The Pope's Three Simple Rules for Living a Holy Life

Excellent advice from Pope Benedict:

Addressing an estimated 12,000 people in St. Peter's Square April 13, Pope Benedict said there are three simple rules for living a holy life:

"Never let a Sunday go by without an encounter with the risen Christ in the Eucharist; this is not an added burden, it is light for the entire week."

"Never begin or end a day without at least a brief contact with God" in prayer.

"And along the pathway of our lives, follow the road signs that God has given us in the Ten Commandments, read in the light of Christ; they are nothing other than explanations of what is love in specific situations."

To read the rest of the article from the National Catholic Register: http://www.ncregister.com/daily-news/the-popes-3-simple-rules-for-holiness?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+NCRegisterDailyBlog+%2540National+Catholic+Register%2541

Is NFP Effective?

My latest column at Amazing Catechists is entitled: Is NFP Effective?

Although there is less skepticism with regard to NFP's effectiveness these days, Natural Family Planning still gets a bad rap from many in secular society. I've heard more than a few people say, "NFP didn't work for us."

When the rules are followed, NFP can be 99 percent effective in avoiding pregnancy.

First, a brief overview of how NFP works: a couple charts the woman's signs of fertility and determines when she is fertile. If the couple is avoiding pregnancy, they abstain from marital relations in the fertile time and only have relations in the infertile times (the average amount of abstinence is between one and two weeks, depending on the couple).

Here are some of the most common reasons why people think NFP isn't effective:

1. The couple choose not follow the rules or they take "shortcuts." I have seen numerous occasions where a couple indicated that they were using NFP to avoid pregnancy, then they became pregnant. Upon questioning them, the couple shared with us that they had relations during the fertile time. "It was only one time." One time is all is takes for a normal healthy young couple to become pregnant.

2. The couple choose to use barrier methods in the fertile time. Couples who use contraceptive methods (condoms, diaphragm) during the fertile time may experience an unplanned pregnancy at some point if they continue contraceptive use. NFP's 99 percent effectiveness rate depends on abstinence in the fertile time. If a couple do not abstain, the effectiveness rate will drop to whatever barrier they're using. As well, contraceptive use is contrary to the teaching of the Church and is considered serious sin.

3. "We can't abstain." Abstinence is difficult. We don't try to skirt the issue. But just because something is difficult doesn't mean it's impossible. A strong sacramental life is essential to assisting couples having difficulties with abstinence. Humans do not need to be slaves to their passions.

4. "My cycles are irregular." NFP is not the old rhythm method. Most of the calculations and rules are based on a woman's present cycle. Therefore, women with irregular cycles can use NFP very effectively. As well, irregular cycles can sometimes be an indicator that something else is going on in the body. Improved nutrition, exercise and simple changes in lifestyle can often produce dramatic results.

No method of birth regulation is 100 percent effective in preventing pregnancy. NFP is around 99 percent when the rules are followed.

I think our own experience illustrates the effectiveness of NFP. My husband, James, and I were very young when we got married, so during the first four years, we used NFP to avoid pregnancy. At the end of James' last year of university, we decided to use NFP to seek a pregnancy. We became pregnant (with twins) in the first cycle. Over the next 23 years, we were successful in avoiding pregnancy when we had serious need to do so; and equally successful in becoming pregnant when we have desired it. We were able to use NFP in the postpartum periods and have been able to use it effectively during pre-menopause.

When the rules are followed, NFP is extremely effective in avoiding pregnancy and can work equally well in helping couples to achieve pregnancy. (And is the only method which can work both to avoid and achieve pregnancy.)

We are offering an online NFP class in June (class is limited to five couples). If you're interested or have any questions about NFP or its effectiveness, please contact me at info@fullquiverpublishing.com

copyright 2011 Ellen Gable Hrkach

Fiction Friday – Forget Me Not by Elizabeth Schmeidler

My thanks to Elizabeth Schmeidler for allowing me to post an excerpt from her historical romance, "Forget Me Not," which is available via Lulu and on Amazon Kindle:

England, 1882

Chapter 1

Ambria Therese Burke looked out her window and sighed. "Just another boring day, leading to yet another boring night," she muttered. Ambria had spent more days looking out over her father's land dreaming than she could count, and her patience had worn thin. Not even the blooming spring flowers that came in every color of the rainbow or the beautiful budding pink and white trees could alter her mood.

She restlessly began drumming her fingers on her window sill and muttered, "When…when is my father ever going to realize that I am a woman? How old will I have to be before he notices that I no longer wear pigtails and ribbons in my hair? For Heaven's sake, I am nearly eighteen years old. Doesn't he realize?"

Her mutterings had grown a bit louder as Genny quietly approached. "What are you mumbling about, my little princess?"

"Please…do not call me your little princess!" Ambria exclaimed. "Doesn't anyone around here understand that I've grown up? I'm not a child anymore, and I've grown quite weary of being treated like one!"

Ambria's mood took Genny by surprise. "Don't get your temper riled at me, young lady! I meant no harm—it's only a nickname after all!" she answered defensively.

Ambria felt instant guilt for her sharp tongue as she glanced at the woman who had been with her since the day she was born.Genny was the nickname Ambria had given Genevieve. She had been told that it was one of the very first words she had spoken as a baby—second only to "Papa". Genny was more like a mother than a nanny to Ambria and she loved her with all her heart.

Wonderful childhood memories of Genny began to surface— Genny, with her curly red hair, chubby dimpled cheeks, and plump arms reaching out to hold Ambria. Genny, with her laughing warm-brown eyes, teaching her childish games, to read, dance, sew, and laugh. The reminiscences made Ambria's mood even more melancholy, and the dreaminess returned to her eyes as she stared out the window.

Genny was undeterred by Ambria's silence. "Quit your dreaming, girl, and answer me proper this time. What has got your feathers ruffled today?"

"Oh Genny, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. It's just that…well…oh Genny… I am so tired of being Papa's little girl!"

Ambria's voice was strained and Genny knew her well enough to know that she was on the brink of spilling a bucket full of tears. Determined to waylay those tears, she sharpened the tone of her voice and said, "Now I'll be hearing none of this self-pity, Ambria! You know how much your papa loves you, and how much he has done to teach and protect ya! Why, without him ya wouldn't even 'ave a pillow fer yer head and clothes on yer back! You've got a home fit fer a princess and strong faith ta guide and give ya peace…all because yer papa understands what love really is!"

Genny then wagged a finger at Ambria and said, "Now look what you've done, girl. You've got me fergettin' me proper speakin'!"

Guilt washed over Ambria as she realized that she had only been thinking of herself. Genny was obviously upset—though she took great pride in the English skills she had learned and had taught to Ambria, her native Irish brogue always surfaced when she was riled or distressed.

Ambria softened her expression to soothe her dear friend, and said softly, "I know he loves me, Genny…and I love him with all my heart. He's the best father I could ever hope to have…but I long to grow up. I long to experience what other girls my age have been experiencing for years already! I long to meet new friends, go to parties and socials, and…Oh, you wouldn't understand."

Ambria's shoulders gave way to her mood and she slumped forward in sadness. In barely more than a whisper she pleaded, "I just want my freedom."

Forget Me Not is available via Lulu, as well as on Amazon Kindle.

Elizabeth has kindly agreed to give away a free e-copy of her book to one lucky reader! Leave a comment below for a chance to win this delightful romance novel!

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Schmeidler

The Many Benefits of NFP

My latest article at Catholic Exchange is entitled "The Many Benefits of NFP."

In this day and age of healthful living, Natural Family Planning provides many benefits which not only ensure healthy living, this remarkable method of birth regulation is also environmentally friendly and promotes authentic marital love. Here are just a few of the many benefits of NFP:

NFP is safe.

There are no harmful side effects for either the husband or wife. It is completely safe, 100 percent natural and it involves no potentially harmful devices or drugs.

NFP is healthy.

There are no pills, invasive procedures, long term drugs. Women who use NFP know more about their bodies and can discover health problems sooner.

NFP is effective.

NFP can be 99 percent effective in avoiding pregnancy when there is serious need to do so. The beauty of NFP is that it can also assist some couples in achieving much-wanted pregnancies without chemicals and operations.

NFP costs very little to use.

This is especially helpful in this economy. Other than the cost of the course, materials and the replacement of thermometers, NFP costs very little to use over a couple's 20 or 30 years of fertility, compared to purchasing condoms, diaphragms, Pills and other chemicals or operations.

NFP is environmentally friendly.

NFP does no harm to the environment. Charts can be recycled and there are no chemicals or other devices used.

NFP is marriage insurance.

In a study done by the Couple to Couple League, couples who used NFP had a less than two percent risk of divorce compared to the national secular average of 50 percent.

NFP fosters authentic marital love and allows a couple to love as Christ loves: freely, totally, faithfully and fruitfully.

NFP is morally acceptable to all faiths.

NFP works with irregular cycles.

NFP is not like the old rhythm method, which depended on regular cycles. NFP's charting system works with a woman's present signs of fertility.

For more information on NFP:

www.ccli.org

www.serena.ca

www.woomb.org

http://www.creightonmodel.com/

Copyright 2011 Ellen Gable Hrkach

A Nice Place to Visit…

The following is an updated re-posting of an article I wrote a few years ago:

I have always found history fascinating, especially 19th century history, and I particularly enjoy reading historical romances. Unfortunately, many of the romance novels published nowadays contain graphic sexuality, and it is becoming difficult to find ones which do not include detailed descriptions of immoral behavior. So I decided to write one which I myself would enjoy reading, with no graphic sexuality and with Catholic characters.

The 19th century experienced the 1812 War, the Civil War, the Industrial Revolution, the reign of Queen Victoria and the invention of photography. I find myself in awe of the quality of the daguerreotypes and tintypes, but I am most intrigued with the expressions on people's faces in these early photographs. Many, if not most, of the people in these old photographs have a neutral or unhappy expression (although I realize it was probably because it took so long to capture the image).

Years ago, I bought a book on the Centennial Exhibition of 1876 (which took place in Philadelphia) and I imagined being part of this extravagant event. Those brief thoughts were the beginning of my novel, .

As much as I find history fascinating, there are many aspects of Victorian life which do not appeal to me, like corsets, repressed sexuality, outhouses, women having few legal rights, women dying in childbirth and so on.

I've been told by my physician that if I had lived in the 19th century, I probably would have died in childbirth. So I'm happy to be living in the 21st century, in a house built 19 years ago, where I can curl up on a comfortable Lazy Boy chair, turn up the heat and read a great historical novel.

Copyright 2011 Ellen Gable Hrkach

Victorian Clipart from: http://antiqueclipart.com/

Fiction Friday – Stealing Jenny

The first Fiction Friday post is from my upcoming novel, Stealing Jenny (to be published in September), which is about the abduction of a pregnant mother by an emotionally unstable infertile woman:

Jenny and her son began the short jaunt up the street to the bus stop. Caleb, at three years of age, was not walking as fast as she'd like, but the bus wouldn't be arriving for another ten minutes. She thought back to Tom's question about his mom coming over and helping her out at home. He wasn't serious — just angry this morning — which was why he suggested it. But it annoyed her when Tom mentioned his mother in an argument.

Since the separation, then divorce, of Tom's parents three years ago, Doris had become increasingly more belligerent. Jenny tried to be sensitive to her mother-in-law's emotional highs and lows. But when she was having a bad day, Jenny was almost always on the receiving end of any criticisms and cross comments. Doris had always been critical of Jenny's laissez-faire attitude towards housekeeping, but generally speaking, before the divorce, her mother-in-law would keep those comments to herself. Since the break up, however, that had changed.

Her mom had offered to pick up the kids from the bus stop next week, as well as perform the household duties, when Jenny was closer to delivery. Jenny understood why her mom wanted to be with her ailing sister in Saskatchewan, but she secretly wished that her mother would return sooner.

As she approached the bus stop, Jenny noticed a woman there. That's odd. My girls are the only ones who get off at this stop. I wonder why she's there. Immediately, she became uneasy and looked away. Stop it, Jen. This is Sutherland, a quiet neighborhood with virtually no crime rate.

The woman was smoking and staring in the distance. As usual, that area was deserted until the neighborhood kids returned home from school.

The lady looked familiar. She was tall and slightly overweight. Jenny glanced at her middle and realized that the woman was wearing a maternity top. When Jenny moved closer to her, the woman finally made eye contact. "Hello, Jenny. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Are you waiting for somebody?"

"I'm waiting for you." The woman dropped the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out.

"Me? Do I know you?"

"Uh-huh. I work at the Sutherland Veterinary Hospital."

"Oh, right."

"How's Bootsie doing?"

"She's fine, uh…"

"Denise."

"Right, Denise."

"I remembered that you were expecting pretty soon?"

"Yes. You too?"

"Uh…yes, me too."

"When are you due?"

"Around the same time as you."

"Oh?" Jenny's large round stomach looked about like it was about to pop compared to this woman, who appeared to be six months pregnant at most. She must be having a small baby.

"Well, you know," Denise continued, "my cousin's got these maternity and baby clothes and they're all high end stuff and I remembered seeing you and wondered if you might like them."

"That's nice of you, but don't you need them?"

"I've already taken a bunch and these are the ones I won't use. Come over here. I've got them right here in my car."

Jenny thought the woman was a bit strange, and again, she felt uneasy, but she wanted to be polite. After all, she did know her from the vet's office and she was pregnant. If you can't trust a pregnant woman, who can you trust? "I guess it can't hurt to take a look, but I'm almost ready to deliver and won't be needing any maternity clothes." Denise walked quickly to a car parked close by, Jenny and Caleb following behind. She could see the woman opening up the back door and leaning in. She stepped back. "Right in there."

Jenny lowered her head to peer inside. She couldn't see clothes anywhere. All of a sudden, she felt something smashed against her face and nose. Breathing in a vaguely sweet scent, she jerked her head from side to side. She opened her mouth to cry out and inadvertently inhaled. She tried to move her arms, but she immediately became limp.

Stealing Jenny will be published this September.

copyright 2011 Ellen Gable Hrkach

Selene of Alexandria by Faith L. Justice

My latest review over at Catholic Fiction.net:

There's nothing I'd rather do than to sit under a tree on a beautiful day and read a novel which transports me back in time. So I eagerly anticipated reading Selene of Alexandria by Faith Justice.

Admittedly, this was a hard book to get into. The author is a competent writer, but I initially had a difficult time bonding with the characters. As the story progressed, however, it became easier to relate to and bond with the characters.

Selene of Alexandria is a well-written, exquisitely-researched historical novel. It takes place in 412 AD and is the coming-of-age story of Selene, a teenager from a wealthy Christian family who yearns to be a physician. An early feminist, she has little interest in marriage.

Her family is not pleased, but eventually her father allows her to study with Hypatia, the renowned mathematician and philosopher of Alexandria. Because she is very intelligent and because she uses alternate means of healing, she gains many enemies and is eventually drawn into the rivalry between two candidates for Christian Patriarch: Cyril and Orestes, the Prefect.

Her childhood friend, Antonius, loves her, but she only has brotherly affection for him. She finds herself attracted to the Prefect, Orestes, although he is many years older. Other characters include Selene's brothers, her father, Rebecca, a Jewish servant and many others. The climax of the story had me turning the pages very quickly.

A few criticisms…the cover was rather bland for a novel of this caliber. Also, I found some of the dialogue not consistent with the time period. And a warning: there is a sexually explicit scene in this book as well as a few near rape scenes which might be disturbing to younger readers. For these reasons, I would recommend this book to older teens and adults.

Selene of Alexandria is a well-written and well-researched novel. I recommend it to those who enjoy historical fiction.

It is available on Amazon.com.

Copyright 2011 Ellen Gable Hrkach

St. Anthony and The Lost Wedding Ring

St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things, has always been a favorite intercessor of mine. Over the past 30 years, his powerful intercession has helped us to find almost every thing we have ever lost. So when my husband, James, realized that his wedding band was missing, I was not worried. Instead, I immediately began praying to St. Anthony, with trust in him that the ring would, at some point, be found.

Strangely enough, James never takes off his wedding ring, except perhaps a few times a year when he helps me with baking. So both of us were perplexed as to how it could have been lost in the first place.

I trusted that with St. Anthony's assistance, this precious symbol of our marriage would eventually be found…and that happened two days later when one of our sons saw something sparkling on our bedrock driveway (at night, no less…) We surmise that his ring slipped off one cold night while he was getting in or out of the car.

Even our kids have learned to call on St. Anthony when something is lost (see cartoon).

Thank you, St. Anthony!

For more information on St. Anthony, check out this website:

http://www.stanthony.org/aboutanthony/history.asp

Cartoon and Text copyright 2011 Ellen Gable Hrkach

Remembering Mom…

Today is my mom's birthday. She would have been 77.

Like most of us, she wasn't perfect, but in many respects, she was a great example. When she became pregnant at age 47, her doctor insisted that she have an abortion. She refused and several months later, gave birth to my youngest sister (who is now a postulant with the Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia in Nashville). I am grateful for the many years I had with Mom, but I miss her very much.

In her memory, I'd like to share the eulogy I gave at her funeral reception four years ago:

Eulogy for Betti Power – August 14, 2007

Wife, mother, sister, grandmother, mother-in-law, stepmother, sister-in-law, aunt, cousin, friend. She was Betti (with an i).

To us, she was simply "Mom."

She was witty, loving, generous, giving, unselfish.

She enjoyed her grandchildren (at right, with my son, Adam, 15 years ago), transcribing (and was the fastest typist I know). She loved surprising people, visiting Canada, talking on the phone, doing crossword puzzles, reading. Her favorite music was West Side Story, Jesus Christ Superstar, Abba and Fleetwood Mac.

Upon meeting Mom, most people immediately felt comfortable with her and she would often strike up conversations with people she didn't know.

She cherished having a new baby when she was 47 and all that came with it: being a lunch mother, taking Laurie to dance lessons and Catholic school.

Mom was a proud graduate of Hallahan High School (class of '51).

She loved Christmas shopping and would begin in July and be finished before November.

She enjoyed watching television and her favorite shows were the Sopranos, Law and Order, Price is Right, ER, Magnum PI and All in the Family. One of her favorite movies was "Titanic" and she would watch the DVD every few months.

She used some unique sayings: "God willing and the Creek don't rise." When asked if she could speak French, she would reply, "Sure, I can. Chevrolet, bouquet, Bon Ami." When one of her kids was misbehaving, she would say, "I'm gonna drop kick you across Center Avenue." Whenever I stood next to her, she would always say, "El, are you standing in a hole?" If we referred to her as "she" and not "Mom," she would say, "Who's she, the cat's mother?" Whenever anyone asked how she was doing, she would reply, "Well, I'm still on this side of the grass, so I guess I'm doing fine."

Mom described herself as an "independent," but hasn't voted for a Republican candidate since Eisenhower.

Whenever someone in the hospital or at home would ask if they could get her anything, she would almost always reply, "Tom Selleck."

When asked what the most memorable days of her life were, she replied, "My wedding days and the days I gave birth to my five children."

Mom was a fighter, not necessarily aggressive, but she's had to survive some pretty challenging experiences: her first husband's (my father's) emotional breakdown; kidney failure when she was 33 which led to the removal of one of her kidneys and caused her to drop to 80 lbs (at five foot six, made her a walking skeleton); becoming a widow at 44; and, most recently, having to deal with COPD and emphysema over the last ten or so years. When she first became critically ill in 2004 and lapsed into unconsciousness, the doctors told us there was no hope for her, to take her off of life support. Instead, she eventually woke up. She finally came home after eight months of hospitalization to the new normal: oxygen machine, nebulizer treatments, myriad pills and medications. Although it was an uphill battle, she has always had a strong will to live.

Finally, in April, the doctors told Mom that there wasn't much more they could do for her and that she would be sent home on hospice care. Upon arriving home, she asked my brother, "I'm coming home to die, right?"

Whenever any of us helped to take care of her, she always thanked us profusely, whether it was for emptying her commode chair, making her breakfast or dinner or a snack of a soft pretzel or an ice cream cone. She often apologized for being a burden. I told her that it was a joy to help take care of her, to give back to her just a small portion of what she had given to me, and I know my stepfather and my siblings all feel the same.

Mom, we miss you. Requiescat in pace.

Photos and Text copyright 2011 Ellen Gable Hrkach