Greatest Love Of All

"Greatest Love Of All" "I believe the children are our future  Teach them well and let them lead the way  Show them all the beauty they possess inside  Give them a sense of pride to make it easier Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be  Everybody searching for a hero  People need someone to look up to  I never found anyone to fulfill my needs  A lonely place to be  So I learned to depend on me. I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadow  If I fail, if I succeed  At least I live as I believe  No matter what they take from me  They can't take away my dignity  Because the greatest love of all  Is happening to me  I found the greatest love of all  Inside of me  The greatest love of all  Is easy to achieve  Learning to love yourself  It is the greatest love of all I believe the children are our future Teach them well and let them lead the way  Show them all the beauty they possess inside  Give them a sense of pride to make it easier  Let the children's laughter remind us how we used to be And if by chance, that special place  That you've been dreaming of  Leads you to a lonely place  Find your strength in love"  Written by:  Michael Masser and Linda Creed Linda Creed wrote these lyrics in the midst of her struggle with breast cancer. The words describe her feelings about coping with great challenges that one must face in life, being strong during those challenges whether you succeed or fail, and passing that strength on to children to carry with them into their adult lives. Linda Creed eventually succumbed to the disease in April 1986 at the age of 36. You may think this blog is about Breast Cancer Awareness but it is not. Although the cause is very dear to my heart because my beloved sister Charlotte passed away from the disease a the age of 53, I find inspiration in this song for so may reasons.  Having just turned 57 my thoughts turn to my own mortality and what the life of my children and grandchildren will be without me. My hope is that each of them can depend on one person, and that is themselves. Our experiences in life, in friendship, and in love teach us how to do that. If not for the love of my Billy, family and dearest friends I would not have had the strength to meet my demons head on and overcome them by myself.  We must teach our children how to depend on themselves, how to overcome the daily trials of life and to be responsible to each other and the world.   Children, so many of our Earth's children, are starving. And not just in third world countries but right here in the US, in your town, down the street, around the corner. There are many organizations to donate to, like Feed the Children, local Food Banks, or the Salvation Army. But the real work starts with education. Teaching our young adults to use birth control and what it means to have too many people on this earth and not enough personal resources.

If I had the resources I would have a houseful of foster children. I would try to keep siblings together. I have always been a caregiver for as long as I can remember.  I adore my own children and can't imagine not being a mother myself. We are proud to be a part of the "Sleep Train" foundation that gives so much to foster children. They supply clothes for school, supplies, pajamas, coats and so may other donations. We love shopping to donate and bring to Sleep Train, their web site tells you exactly the donations go.If you are interested here is the web site.  http://www.sleeptrain.com/local-foster-kids.aspx This is not a lecture, although it probably feels like one, but just thought, my thoughts and my blog.  Good night little ones all over the world.  Edited by: Lezlie Mayers

After the Tuck part ?

Here I am at day 27. Up until the last second both Billy and I, we discovered later, were hoping something would happen and we would have to postpone the surgery. We were both scared to death. At our age, it's the, "what ifs" that get you. 

Day of the surgery, day nurses, all very nice, kind, professional. Doctor came in and literally marked me up with scenarios, A,B and C with a purple marker. She is a master at what she does, took her 20 minutes. The Anesthesiologist was an absolute doll and I am sure we added some remodeling job to her house. And then, lights out. I don't remember even saying good bye to Billy. He later told me he kissed me and held my hand and I was awake when that happened! When I woke up 7 hrs later, Billy later told me that I asked for him, the night nurses were on duty, while they were a nice and competent they let it be known that anybody who could voluntarily go through this type of surgery should expect some pain and lots of it. Thank goodness for Billy. He stayed with me until about 11PM, he called the nurses station at 1:30AM and came back at 6:30AM. I overheard the nurse ask if we were newlyweds and said that she never had a husband or wife stay that long. Lots of morphine, a very short walk (thought I was gonna pass out from the initial pain), I made it until morning. 

Billy, walked me to the bathroom, fixed my meals, made sure I had all my medication on time, drained the three drainage bulbs without flinching (at least he didn't in front of me), dressed me, cleaned me and put up with my bitching and moaning. First week, I was annoyed when he put my socks, shirts, underwear and leggings on inside out. "can't you SEE?" I was annoyed when my meals were too hot or too cold, "don't you KNOW?". Now that I am in my fourth week, I am wearing socks, shirts, underwear and leggings either inside out or backwards and I don't care. My meals are perfect and the laundry is done expertly.I have never been taken care of the way he has taken care of me. Unconditional love thy name is Billy.

Well, that's all I can write now, I am getting pretty tired. I am back at work full time, thank goodness I work from home. Here's a shout out to all my BFF's for their support, cards and flowers.

I am going to get a lot of material out of this experience, stay tuned for part ??.

I can tell you I am at the, "when am I going to feel a lot better" and not the, "boy this is the best money I ever spent!" stage.

Hot Fun in the Summertime

“End of the spring and here she comes back

Hi Hi Hi Hi there

Them summer days, those summer days

That's when I had most of my fun, back then

Them summer days, those summer days”

- Sylvester Stewart (aka Sly Stone)

While I was growing up we lived in a neighborhood that was ethnically diverse. Adjacent to the Bay, it was naturally called the Bayview District.  The houses were exactly like the ones in the Richmond and Sunset District in San Francisco on the, "other" side of town, but in a place where immigrants could more easily purchase homes. All the houses had gardens and well manicured lawns and white picket fences. My parents moved there in 1952.


My best friends were Darlene Lee, Sandra Smith, Ramona Sanchez and Esther Gomez. At Darlene's house her mother would feed us fried rice, at Sandra's we had pizza, and at Ramona's it was tortillas, rice and beans.  Esther's mother kept raw vegetables on the table. My favorite were green onions kept in ice cold water with a salt bowl for dipping. Imagine what we smelled like!  Daddy made the best fried chicken and white rice and (ugh) pickled pigs feet. 

We had the most terrific block parties.  The streets were blocked off by sawhorses with, get this, black round balls with lit Steno inside them. I can't remember what they were called but they looked like cannon balls with flames coming out of them. Traditionally, these were used everywhere in the City for work being done on streets, but would later be replaced by blinking lights. We played from the first light of day until late at night when our parents had to drag us into the house. We had flexies, bikes, hula hoops, silly puddy and went to the movies for 25 cents. All these activities were done in dresses because girls didn't wear pants back then, not until pedal pushers became popular. 

At the block parties our fathers would play chess and checkers with tables set up in our driveways. We had all kinds of food set out everywhere and anything you can imagine from every culture was there. Mexican, Chinese, Filipino and American, all followed with red Kool-Aid as a chaser, made with a full cup of white granulated sugar.

We all walked to school together, two blocks from home, skipped rope, held hands and shared our lunches when "fruit" was a tomato in our lunch boxes or bags. We played hopscotch, foursquare, tether ball and kickball in the schoolyard. We went on field trips throughout the city - the Symphony, Aquarium, the De Young Museum, City Hall, Golden Gate Park Carousal. When there wasn't enough room on the bus our parents would volunteer. We would cram 6 or 8 kids in a car, no seat-belts driving our parents crazy with our laughter and antics. There was a beach near our house that we played at forever before the commercial industry started building plants. It was always sunny and warm in the spring and summer.

We almost moved to Westlake in Daly City in the Summer of 1963. My tall, blond, Caucasian mother saw the house of her dreams: 4 bedrooms 2 bathrooms. To us it was a mansion. She wanted Daddy to sell the two houses we owned on our street and purchase the yellow and white house in Westlake.  But when my short, dark, thick-accented Filipino father went to look at the house, it was suddenly no longer for sale. I use to wonder what the Real Estate Agent thought when she showed my mother the house with all these Asian looking children in tow? Did she think my mother was a saint for having adopted an entire family of children? That was that. We didn't let it dampen our  fun. 


My father died that next summer but I will always have the all of the Falls, Christmases, Springs and Summers before to remember him by. 

Those were wonderful times, beautiful memories...especially the hot fun in the Summertimes...

Edited by LEM

One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong...

"One of these things is not like the others,

One of these things just doesn't belong,

Can you tell which thing is not like the others

By the time I finish my song?

Did you guess which thing was not like the others?

Did you guess which thing just doesn't belong?"

Words and Music by Joe Raposo and Jon Stone

Image. How do we see ourselves and how do others see us? There was nothing more important in HS for me than image. How did we manage to get through HS without our BFF's. I've talked about Joy and Kelley and now I'd like to tell you about Louise.

She attended our enormous HS but shined like a bright star. Brilliant, tall with striking features, excelled at everything. She was also warm, kind and extremely empathetic.

Life dealt her a stern hand and she came up with Aces. We kept each other laughing and crying and laughing again.

I often wonder why she choose to be my friend. We shared our lives with each other, never caddy, always supportive of one another, no teenage girl bashing. 

In HS I was surrounded by opposites. My home life was filled with mental illness, alcoholism, drug use and prostitution. The once ethnic family oriented neighborhood that it started out to be became the opposite. I went to a HS on the other side of town (so I wouldn't get the crap beaten out of me after school). There, on the, "other side of town" I found what I thought was, "normal", two parent homes, nice homes and a place where I didn't have to worry about my safety. 

I got a job after school and wore nice clothes even though most of the people I went to HS with knew of some of my living circumstances. I tried to fit in. I was so conflicted that it was people like Louise who kept me on even ground. I found my voice, literally, in singing, acting and dancing. Louise encouraged me and always told me how talented I was. I was on the drill team, sang in the Glee Club,( that show on TV had nothing on us baby!), starred in plays and I was terrified, always.

I was never a star student in spite of having an IQ of 135, my home life took such precedence over daily thoughts, it was difficult to concentrate. Who was going to be home when I arrived after a one hr. bus ride across town and a half a mile walk home through a dangerous neighborhood?  A new boyfriend of my Mothers? Some Pimp off the streets? Someone doing drugs in the kitchen?

I remember our class president and her best friend suggesting that after I graduate I should become a "hairdresser". Louise over heard that and said, "you can become whatever you want to be, you are a smart person. I didn't hear that very often. Like I said, Louise grounded me. 

What I didn't realize was that although I thought all of my friends lived such normal lives they were far from it. Their fathers may have been Doctors, Lawyers, Professors and Judges but the dysfunction was the same but behind big fancy doors. Ann's father was a famous judge and an abusive alcoholic. Lisa's father went, "away" to prison for fraud. Deaths were really suicides but we didn't speak of it. Wives having affairs, getting pregnant and passing off the child as their husbands (OMG look at that baby he/she looks exactly like my best friend Brenda, uh oh) and that was the only tip of the iceberg. Really, you can't make this stuff up. Yet, still I would have given anything to trade places with them because it was the, "image" that I was looking for. I'll trade my dysfunctional for your dysfunctional family.

My children, Shanna and Scott were the ones to suffer for my, "image" complex but that's for another blog.

Louise was right, I could do anything and I did and so did she. 

Here is to Louise, who danced in the Nutcracker, sang like a Lennon Sister, French Club President, the smartest girl in our school and my dear friend. 

"Three of these kids belong together 

Three of these kids are kind of the same 

But one of these kids is doing his (her) own thing 

Now it's time to play our game 

It's time to play our game."

Tuck This!

"I feel Pretty", you know like the song from West Side Story, when Maria, played by Natalie Wood, sings the song about "feeling" pretty. Is she blind, can't she see what's in the mirror? Natalie Wood was more than pretty. It's always the obviously pretty ones that ask that question and really mean it. Who really feels pretty, attractive, or even beautiful? Why would someone think that about themselves? Is it something we learn or is it something we are born with? I am having a Tummy Tuck in a few weeks. I had to really contemplate why I was doing it. I had talked about it for years. After two C-Sections (one from belly button down and one bikini cut (like he was doing me a favor by not having a scar show, bikini cut my ass) , menopause and a few extra pounds, the middle of my body looks like I have inner tube around it. All of my body parts have moved south for the winter and they aren't ever coming back.   Is it vanity? I haven't been a bikini since I was in high school (40 years ago). At no more than110 pounds until I was 45 I still didn't think I was attractive. Oh, wait, that's a lie, I did have beautiful hair. Long Jet Blue/Black hair. I loved my hair. But, I always wanted curly hair, I am sensing a theme here. We, as women, are so judgmental of one another. Why can't that person just STOP eating already? Why is she such a bitch? Why doesn't she dress better? She needs a make over. There are shows, "What Not To Wear" where "friends & family" actually nominate some poor sucker that ends up on the show. But, in one week, after they humiliate her on National TV, most don't just have a physical transformation but an emotional one. They feel pretty,confident, the show, "changed their life". Is that really all it takes? Beam me up Scotty. But feeling pretty? I have never really felt pretty. I always wanted to have fair skin, blond hair and boobs. That's what I saw on TV and magazines. I didn't exactly come from a family of supporters, hugs and kisses. I was the darkest of 6 kids, my nick name was, "LBJ" Little Brown Jug. My mother called me ugly, and too skinny. Thank god for a good psychiatrist (and good Meds.) Thank God for that nice jewish couple who worked day and night to put their son through medical school. I was in thearpy for so long that I added on a wing to his house in a very affluent part of town. He was good, no he was great. I healed, slowly but surely and I am still healing. Now, I have this husband this man, my best friend and lover who tells me constantly how beautiful I am, how much he loves me and I believe him but do I believe myself? My hair is thinning, no longer black, no longer long, 125 to 130 pounds (hey, don't go there, write your own blog) and my "inner tube". Pretty? Really? I still don't believe it. But, there is something about my husband telling me every day that I am beautiful, wonderful, that I can do anything I want to do that is cracking the ice. He believes in me, encourages me and is always there for me. He heals me everyday. Back to the tuck. I am excited and scared. What if my expectations are not met? What if it doesn't make me feel pretty? Wait, it's not suppose to make me feel pretty because I am not doing it for vanity, right?. What if I can actually fit into a pair of pants and look good?  Well, here we go, Tuck this!

Three Wise Women

I wonder what draws people together, year to year, day to day. Who we keep in our lives and those  that drop by the the wayside either intentionally or not.  I know two women I went to High School with in San Francisco. We met when we were 14, as Freshman, we were in several school clubs together yet we were three very different girls. Joy was from a typical San Francisco  immigrant Italian family. Her mother was always feeding us! Joy is first generation Italian. Joy has a quick wit, sharp mind and a mothering sense in her that won't quit. Kelley was from a typical Irish family, not first generation but her parents led by tradition that was embedded deep in their life. Kelley is fun and fun to be with. Trusting to a fault in her personal life, but has a BS radar in Business that would make her a great candidate for the FBI. Both pretty with wonderful smiles. I am half first generation Filipino, my father married a Caucasian woman. Daddy, he passed when I was 9 so I always remember him as "Daddy", was a musician, Western Union Delivery Man and Gardner (just like an SNL skit) and Mom a nursing student and singer. More on that later.

We are now 57 and have been in and out of each others lives. We reconnected through Facebook (thank you FB). For the last 3 years we have had lunch every few months or so. Sometimes we invite others but usually it's just us three. Today we talked about why we were so drawn to each other a friends. Why do we trust our deepest darkest secrets to one another? We are not blood related, we did not even grow up in similar homes but we were all raised strictly Catholic. Today we proceeded to tell each other some things that were deeply personal not knowing what kind of reaction to expect but knowing deep in our hearts the trust was there. 

I cannot share my friends stories with you as they are not my stories to tell but I can tell you a few of my stories in hopes that maybe it will help someone else who reads this, has experienced what I've gone through and think  that they are alone. Because today, I felt better when I saw the acceptance of me as a person in these dear friends eyes when I told them something I was deeply ashamed of. I would like to do that for others that do not have someone to talk with or trust. I would also like to share how these two women effect my life, then and now. 

I have always wanted to write a book but didn't know where to start and find the feat daunting. But, with technology the way it is and my like for Computers, I can write a blog and maybe someday put it all together.

So, here goes nothing, off to find out how to put a blog on the www!

Mary Elissa 

San Francisco, Ca.

P.S. Found it!