A Lesson at the End of Life

I planned this blog to post reviews and recipes. I knew that I would also share my experiences dealing with celiac disease and how that, and being gluten free, affects my life. The time has come to share more of my personal life. As I write this I am sitting in a nursing home, at the bedside of my great aunt, the sister of my grandmother. Our Italian family’s matriarch. My last connection with the Old Country.

She was my grandmother’s younger sister, but my Nonna was an artist, a free spirit, never still for very long. Lily and her late husband were the established heads of the family. No matter where we gathered, she was always the hostess. Her word was the last word

Growing up I felt like the ugly duckling. I knew I was loved and included, but I was not the golden child that her own grandchildren were. I never felt like my piece of the puzzle fit quite right, that one piece that comes in the box, but you can never figure out exactly where it goes. Marrying into the family I think my dad feels this way too sometimes.

During hard time we’ve always been family. She came to see my Nonna when she had Alzheimer’s, though her own husband was dying at the same time. Of all the family that I invited to my high school graduation, she was the only one who came, saying that if my grandmother couldn’t be there, at least one grandmother would. When she moved to New York to be closer to her daughters and grandchildren she had all of her extra furniture and fixtures shipped to me to furnish my first apartment.

When I moved to New York I had to leave most of that furniture in Ohio, but that was fine with her. Here’s the thing: In the four years that I have lived in New York, a 40 minute train ride from her and my cousins I have visited exactly five times. Christmas and her 90th birthday bash.

Am I bad family? I was always to busy, or felt like was imposing, or I simply felt like I didn’t belong. Whatever my reasons they seem pretty stupid. I’m here now, I’ve been out to see her as much as I can, now that she doesn’t recognize us or acknowledge out presence beyond a week hand squeeze.

I’m asking myself if this counts for anything, if it makes up for anything. Following on the heels of this self-doubt comes the guilt of not visiting. So many missed opportunities to hear stories about my own grandmother as a girl. Stories about their parents, the woman I am named for, the first Vittoria. I am about to lose the last person who knew or contacted our family in Italy. I don’t even know where all her papers and pictures are.

Her two daughters will inherit all these, but this is my legacy too. We all share a common root, Enrico and Vittoria Silano. Never again will I hear vaguely remembered stories of my great grandmother and her two sisters. Nor will I hear how uppity Lily and my Nonna were as American teenagers standing up to their Italian father in the 192030s.

I always intended to ask her to come with me to the Story Corps project when it was at Grand Central. Obviously I never did, because I just didn’t feel comfortable making a request like that of her. Why do we always seem to be let these opportunities pass?

They say that hindsight is 20/20 and that’s the truth. All the harsh thoughts, false starts and missed connections. I know I can’t torture myself with this, or blame myself. At the very least, our whole family is coming together now. My mother will be here tomorrow, and for one last time Lily, her daughters and niece will all be together. The only woman of our family who will be missing is Lily’s granddaughter Amy, who’s away at college finishing her semester.

This truly is one of life’s great lessons, made gluten free because I am gluten free. Don’t miss opportunities when you have them. Don’t ignore a sunny day. And don’t forget to live and love your life. My one hope is that I will have such wonderful family surrounding me when I am 93. Most importantly, never miss an opportunity to tell someone you love them.

Spring in the City

Today was so beautiful that I set out to do some of my Saturday errands on foot. As I walked through the neighborhoods of Queens I was struck by the beauty of spring in New York. The real New York.

Of course Manhattan is New York, with 5th Avenue and Rockefeller Center, but that’s not where the life of the city is. That’s in the numerous small neighborhoods and communities. Spring comes early to midtown. I walk past carts of forced flowers for the Today Show every morning. Diligent city workers have filled the large cement planters of 5th Avenue and Rockefeller Plaza with daffodils that are already in full bloom. One day, overnight, they will be replaced by tulips.

But spring arrived in my neighborhood this week. Barren tree are pushing out buds, puffs of flowers hover around the gnarled branches. Crocuses, daffodils, tulips, hostas and flowers I can’t name have pushed their way through the earth to welcome back the sun. Magnolia trees are in full glory. The building and most trees are still bare, but buds and flowers abound.

At this time of year I am always surprised, joyfully, at how nature has maintained it’s foothold in this paved over city. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, indeed. And flowers bloom in Queens.

Green shoots push though every possible crack. Place where bricks have been prized up. Iron strong tree roots push up and break sidewalk squares, making room for verdant grass and ever smiling dandelions.

As I walk, I can’t help myself. I have to take pictures of the juxtaposition of city and nature. Bright life growing around the drab remainders of our grey winter hibernation. Flowers don’t know from fences, they wiggle through and pull themselves up to share their light. Greenery creeps and snakes along fences and walls. Trees become balls of color.

Soon people will come out of hiding, infected by the new life that’s spreading. Jackets will be shed, midriffs will be bared, car windows will open to spill music into the streets. The neighborhood will re-emerge. Slowly, picking up momentum, life will seep out of shuttered homes onto porches, into the streets.

This is the New York everyone should know. Ethnic food on every corner, perfuming the air so that you can find your way by smell. Socks, trinkets anything you could want for sale on every block. Folk of all ages strutting and preening in their colorful best stretching their style after a bundled up winter. Neighborhoods boisterous with life from within, each stocked with their own cast of characters.

As I walk in the sun, sharing its glow with the daffodil next to me, I remember the joy of quieter springs past. But this miracle of life, rebirth amongst the huge apartment blocks, elevated trains and paved streets resonates more. It’s as if the blooming of the first flower brings the whole city back to light and life after the grey, dreary winter.

Gluten Free Travelogue, Home at Last

I actually got home to New York, via my parents in Ann Arbor, MI, on Sunday night. But then I was lazy on Monday, spending time with my boyfriend and his family, only venturing out to go to the gym and get some groceries in the Afternoon.Coming out of the mountains on Saturday I took a number of pictures from the car window. We stopped in Golden, CO to visit the new Bradford Washburn American Mountaineering Museum
with Geege. She brought me a fantastic brownie from a local Denver gluten free bakery, Deby's. After a crash spending spree at the Eddie Bauer outlet we were on our way to the airport.

Right now things are crazy busy at work, getting my boss ready for a big jewelry show in Switzerland. Until I have a chance to post again, I'll leave you with more pictures of the Rockies

Gluten Free Travelogue, Day 6

So far we’re still having lots of fun. The snow and skiing conditions have been great. It’s time to post some pictures from Winter Park. The view last night was just spectacular! Aside from skiing, we went into ‘town’ to window shop and see the sights. My mom got new ski boots and I’ve been exhausted every night. I’m so glad that we rented the studio with a kitchenette. There’s nothing better than getting back from a hard day of skiing then cooking a delicious healthy meal. (More on that later)

So I will devote the rest of the post to beautiful pictures of Winter Park, CO.View of the Rockies from the hotel parking lot

The hotel we're staying in, to the left you can see some of the runs on the mountain









Me, freezing in the parking lot as my mom takes the requisite picture for posterity

Gluten Free Travelogue: Day 3

Yesterday was another day full of travel. I really don’t like airplanes. After leaving my parents house at 5:45 in the morning, well fortified with gluten free foods for the flight, our flight went smoothly and we landed in Denver.

We were greeted by my mom’s friend at the baggage claim and preceded to pick up our rental car. Geege had planned out a little itinerary for us; an organic grocery to stock up on gluten free supplies and lunch at a gluten free deli. Unfortunately, the deli was closed on Sunday, so when we got to the grocery, we settled on Chipotle instead. I was far to hungry to wait, and I knew that I would be able to get good, edible food there. The young woman who served me was nice enough to change her gloves before preparing my salad, and the woman in line in front of me said: “oh, my boss has to do that too.”

The Sunflower Farmer’s Market left much to be desired in the gluten free department. The produce and other product selection was great. They have an extensive bulk food department, although you never know whose touched those items. In the freezer case we were directed to there were about 3 types of gluten free breads. I did find some EnviroKids gluten free cereals and cereal bars along with some really good corn thins; something I’ve never seen before but is like a skinny rice cake made from corn.

After stocking up on what we were able to find we headed out to the ski resort, checked in and went to get fitted for our rental skis. After drama in the rental shop, apparently our reservation wasn’t booked into the computer yet; we headed to get the rest of our supplies. My mom got us a room with a little kitchenette so that we (I) could prepare all the meals and wouldn’t have to worry about eating out. I really appreciate this because it takes a lot of stress out of the trip. And seriously, people in Manhattan would kill for a studio as nice as this hotel room.

Today we skied. And skied. And skied some more. What else is there to say? The conditions were good and had fun even though I wasn’t satisfied with my skis. I’ve got new pair to demo tomorrow.

Gluten Free Travelogue; Day 1

My Office is closed next week; this means a vacation for me! Today I embarked on the first leg of my weeklong ski trip in Colorado with my mother. Flying form New York to Michigan isn’t usually too bad. I packed last night, and only forgot a few things.

Along with my ski boots and clothes I probably have more gluten free protein bars than the two of us can eat in 5 days. Protein powders, vitamins, prednisone, creams and other emergency supplies. I packed gluten free food for the time I’d be stuck in the airport; my experience with LaGuardia is that it’s no great shakes, gluten free or otherwise.

Spending the night at home in Ann Arbor I was less worried about gluten than I was about maintaining my normal diet. I’m not quite sure how to explain this; the term carb addict comes to mind. Whenever I eat bread or pasta, even gluten free ones, for a meal I am never satisfied, I keep going back and eating more and more until I feel sick and disgusted with myself. A slice of bread or a little rice is one thing, but a sandwich is never satisfactory.

I was worried because earlier this week my mom told me that she had prepared gluten free lasagna for us to eat. She made one earlier in the week, which my parents sampled and them froze for me dad to eat while my mom and I are away. She said that the Tinkyada whole grain rice pasta she used turned out really well. She said she preferred it to standard pasta.

I was afraid it was going to be a fatty, cheesy mess that would ruin my diet, but then I remembered that my dad is on a heart healthy diet. She used low fat mozzarella, fat free ricotta and a mixture of beef, veal and bison. And it was really good, except for all those noodles. The noodles themselves were great, maybe a little over cooked, but she made the lasagna itself several days ago and only baked it today. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t the right balance of foods that I needed after a day of upheaval and travel. I kept going back for more without satisfaction.

I’m reminded that I really need to pay attention to my body and head it’s signals, I would have been much happier with a simple piece of fish or cottage cheese and granola. I must remember to emphasize this when we shop for supplies in Colorado. At least we’re staying in a joint with a kitchen, and we’ll be able to cook for ourselves this coming week. The challenge may be finding supplies.

Musings on the F Train

As much as New Yorkers love to gripe about the subway, it really is a remarkable system. It moves I don’t know how many people all around the city everyday. Where else can you see so many different kinds of people all in one place, united in the same pursuit: trying to get ‘there’. So many cultures merge, and sometimes collide. I marvel at the diversity.

Today, as I stood in the F train surveying my fellow riders I saw nothing unusual. Two teenage boys sharing headphones, an elderly man with can and newspaper, a can of soda here, a bottle of juice there. One woman eating licorice and reading a gossip mag, another with her Starbucks yogurt parfait. Empty calories, Mindless eating.

For a moment I was struck with how jealous I was of them, able to pick up whatever the feel like without a second thought. I missed that, not readying every label with eagle eyes before a purchase.

And then I took another bite of my celery and was reminded of what I do have: my health. And mindful eating. Being gluten free has made me so aware of my body. What it needs, what it doesn’t need, and how it reacts to different things.

I think to myself: if I have to stop to read the labels, why not smell the proverbial roses while I’m there? Take this opportunity to be conscious of everything I eat, even, especially, the things I know are gluten free.