Summertime and the livin' is easy begins the Gershwin showtune; only 2016 seems anything but easy. The raucousness of the primaries has finally culminated in the conventions. Terrorism and racial strife fill the headlines. It can make you want to scream. In this month's newsletter Katie offers an alternative, one that won't cure the ills of the world, but will certainly give you food for thought. 

           Here's to chasing - and finding - miracles with all of you.

Joan, Katie and Meb       

          A few years back I was strolling through Central Park on a spring day, breathing in the hint of warmth in the air, marveling at the new growth coming up on either side of me, and talking to my mother on the phone. I was gushing about my adopted city; how great is the change of seasons, walking everywhere, the culture and culinary and people watching... and then I stopped mid-sentence remembering who I was talking to. My mom was fairly devastated when I left California. I had been her point person for the twenty-five years since my dad had died and my leaving was not easy for her. I had, until then, been understated with her about how much I loved our new adventure, because I didn't want to rub it in or want her to think we were never coming back. There was a pause and then my Mom said something I will never forget, "Well, honey, when there's ice cream on your plate, it's time to eat ice cream."
 

          No one reading this newsletter is a stranger to difficult times. This, of course, makes ice cream times all the sweeter. But I wonder if we relish the good times the way we should. I, for one, grew up with a heaping scoop of Catholic guilt sprinkled on most of my (just) desserts. This meant that in and amongst the job, the kids, volunteering, housework and making sure everyone else was happy, ice cream moments were rare. When they came, rather than savoring the moment, I looked around for what I must be missing on my to-do list. This recently spotted bumper sticker spoke directly to me:
 

Do not feel totally,
personally, irrevocably
responsible for everything...
That's my job. (God)
 

          On this topic at least wisdom came with age. Because maybe with age, difficulty takes on new meaning. Parents and friends die, serious or chronic illness presents itself and takes its toll. I've learned to recognize and savor sweet "moments." As the wise and beautiful poet Alberto Caeiro wrote, "What comes, when it comes, will be what it is."

          Meanwhile, Joan and I had the privilege of talking miracles with NYC alumni of my (and Meb's) alma mater Santa Clara University in a literary salon setting in my living room. Lively discussion, intriguing questions and a retired superior court judge to remind me, "You're right, his plan was to kill you." Miracles are the gift that keeps on giving!

          Speaking of moments and miracles, in April I became a grandmother. All the joy of parenthood without the angst, sleepless nights and eighteen year uphill slog. A triple scoop of chocolate chip!
 

       
          It's late July and it's hot. My summer wish for you is that you find your way to relishing the ice cream moments. May your bowl be overflowing. (Katie)
 

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