Farewell to a Mighty Dog

                                                           

 

On Sunday night at 10:45 p.m., our eldest dog, Godzilla, passed away.

Life with Fred and Lucy: An Interview with Elsie Kerns

                            

 
I am so excited that my humorous memoir about the two ghosts in my attic is finally done. I did a big book launch this past Saturday, and everyone who bought a book have been telling me just how funny it is. It is a tribute to my parents and growing up in South Philly during the 50's and 60's. Here is the interview. Thank you Elsie Kerns for doing this.

Metaphysical Time Travel

                                                             

                                                       

 

We all have that one special person in our lives that had influenced us by their words and actions to be the best we could be. For me, my siblings and my cousins, it was our maternal grandmother, Maria Grazia Federico Chiusolo. My grandmother was a very spiritual woman and she also had strong psychic abilities that she passed down to all her grandchildren. She has been on my mind recently.

                                                                

                                                              

Grandmom was born in Benevento, Italy. She came to America at the start of World War 2 and it was a good thing because her home was bombed during the war. My grandfather was already living in Philadelphia and when Grandmom arrived in New York, she brought along her three children: Anna, Lucia and Mario. This is a photo of them as young children and long before they came to the States.

                                                               

                           Aunt Anna, Uncle Mario and my mother, Lucy

They moved into a home on 7^th and Ellsworth and there she and grandpop lived until her death sometime in the early 1960’s. Grandmom never spoke a word of English, but she understood me and, I understood her. She always had rosary beads in her hand. She was always praying for us...we were mischievous kids who also happened to be accident prone. We needed every single prayer to keep the Angel of Death at bay.

                                                             

Like I mentioned at the start, Grandmom has been on my mind, lately. Maybe it’s because I am going to Italy this month. It’s the first time I’ve ever been out of the country and although I’ll be with a tour group, I’ll be by myself. That’s okay. I’m not afraid and in a way, I won’t be entirely alone. I have inherited my grandmother’s gift and I can see dead people. In fact, there are two ghosts that live in my house. They are my parents. Their names are Fred and Lucy. I told my parents that I’m bringing them with me on this trip. I also asked my grandmother to come with me. Maybe they can translate for me.

My sister Jane recently sent me copies of some important papers belonging to Grandmom. I studied the papers and the photos and after a few minutes, I was back in time. I must have been around nine years old and I watched as my grandmother sang an Italian song as she cooked the pasta on the stove. The door in her kitchen that led to the yard was open. It was a warm, sunny day. I watched the chickens pecking for food outside in the yard while grandpop cooked a steak on grill that he made from a metal can.  

                                                               

                                                          

Time and space are connected and maybe we don’t need a machine to travel back or forth in time. Maybe our minds, because we are connected to the Universal Collective, are able to make that jump. I did that jump today while looking at the old photos my sister Jane had sent me. You can try this technique, too. Find a photo of a special person who has passed away. Sit in a quiet room. Play some meditation music. Light up some incense. Hold the photo in your hand. Take deep breaths...think of your loved one...now...go back to that moment in time when you were your happiest with them. Let me know if it works for you.

My Ghostly Protector

                                                                  

I not only see dead people, but I have two deceased family members hanging out in my home. Everyone knows about my Fred and Lucy stories from my blog, but what they don’t know is that Fred and Lucy remain quite active in their family’s lives even though they have passed to the other side.

Everyone has ghostly family members who check up on them. You do, too. Your deceased family member will make an appearance using several methods to let you know they are there:

Smell

We associate certain scents with family be it perfume, cologne, cigarette or cigar smell and even food. I always smell my mom’s perfume, but it is one that she hadn’t used for years and years; Evening in Paris. I guess Heaven keeps a healthy supply of that particular perfume for some strange reason.

Dreams

Sometimes, our lives are so hectic that the only way the deceased can contact us is through dreams. Don’t dismiss the messages you receive in dreams. They offer support or warnings.
                                                                    

My dad likes to visit often, but he doesn’t come alone. Fred usually brings other recently departed souls to meet me. Most of the time they want to tell me how they died. At first, I was frustrated because I didn’t understand what I was required to do with this information. I soon realized that I was only required to listen and that took the stress away from the visits...that is until my dad brought a recent victim of ISIS for a visit. The man just wanted to tell me how he died. The vision he sent was graphic. He also gave a warning..."Don't allow adult male refugees into the country." I

Music

Sometimes, when you’re thinking of a loved one, a song will come on the radio that you know they liked. With my mother, it’s usually a funny Italian song that she would sing to us when we were little.
 

Electrical Activity

Lights or the television goes on or off without explanation. Some spirits can even change the channel on the TV to get your attention.

Displaced or Moved Objects

Our loved ones will try everything possible to let you know that they are there. Sometimes, they can help you find a lost item. A year ago, after my husband lost a lot of weight per doctor’s orders, he lost his wedding band. We looked all over, even in the almost freezing pond because he had been cleaning the aeration set up in the pond. We searched for an entire week. Nothing! I was doing the dishes when I heard my dad tell me where to find the ring. I told Dan to check his gloves. Bingo! The ring was in his work glove. My sister knows when Fred and Lucy visit her home because they move things and make lots of noise.

Touch or Sense

If the spirit is strong enough, they can tug at your hair or touch your cheek in a loving manner. Sometimes, they don’t have to do a thing, but you can sense them in the room.

Animals

Seeing certain animals over and over every time you’re thinking about a loved one is definitely a sign that they are trying to communicate with you. I always see the cabbage butterfly for my dad...even in the dead of winter, and I see a moth for my mom.
                                                             

Fred and Lucy

My dad is with me all the time. Maybe he feels the need to protect me because I am a psychic and I do ghost investigations. Maybe, because I was the eldest of the four children and he seemed to favor me. Maybe it’s because he knows that I can be reckless. Whatever the reason, other Mediums and psychics always sense him standing behind me. I’m okay with my dad being with me. I feel safe, especially, when investigating places with a dark history. My mom also stays at my house, but lately, she’s been hanging with the grandchildren.

Conclusion

Do you sense a deceased loved one? Do you receive hints that they are around? Do you acknowledge your loved ones when they do visit? DEATH is not dead. Death is just a change of form from the physical to the spiritual. I know my parents look out for me and it makes me feel good.
                                                               

My daughter and grandsons are not afraid of the dead. They know that Fred and Lucy are watching over them. I’ve told my daughter and grandsons that I intend to visit often after I die. My grandkids are looking forward to the visits, but they're hoping I come back as a zombie.

 

Creating a Goddess

                                                           

 

I know this title will throw off some people, but bear with me a little bit. It’s no secret that a majority of the male population around the world, and especially, in the Middle East consider women as second class citizens, or worse, property. We only have to look at certain cultures and religions to see this caveman mentality at work. These men are idiots, but this post isn’t about the people who live in a box. This post is for mothers, but more specifically for mothers of daughters.

The best gift a mother can give her daughter is a sense of worth. Now you would think that most mothers today are doing this, and the majority does. But, I’ve noticed something troubling recently, not only within my own family structure, but with acquaintances.

I am a post war baby and, my generation grew up to protest the wrongs committed by our government on its people. I marched for civil rights, I burned many a bra for women’s liberation and, I protested the Vietnam War. You would think I had my shit together, right? Not really.

                                                            

 

I am a product of immigrant parents. There were social mores that had to be followed: Children spoke only when spoken to; girls didn’t go to college, this was reserved for the sons of the family; girls were expected to get married, have children and, wait on their husbands.

My mother, who was years ahead of her time, was very outspoken, but she did not teach her daughters to speak out in their defense. I’m not sure why, especially since she was such a rebel, herself. When I was younger, I tried to avoid confrontation. And, because I wasn’t taught how to deal with conflicts I often found myself giving in to the will of others. I usually kept my opinions to myself. Then, I had my daughter.

                                                         

 

I don’t think I did this purposely, but I encouraged my daughter to be outspoken; to speak her mind; to stand strong in her convictions. I didn’t create a monster or a brat, but instead, I helped my daughter, who is the sweetest person on God’s earth, to know she had worth.

                                                             

 

My daughter knows her value and, she is priceless. I often wish that I could be more like her. I try and please everyone and keep the peace. That is not a bad thing, but sometimes, my feelings get stored in a box for the better of the team. My daughter once stood up to a biker and told him off so elegantly that she left the poor slob, speechless. He had insulted her sons. While I tried to calm everyone down, she stood her ground. She knows her worth.

                                                                

 

I guess what I’m trying to say to all you mothers of daughters is this: we are goddesses; it is our destiny to create more goddesses. Give your daughter a sense of her true value.

Granny Needs Your Votes

                                                                  

                                          Battle of the Bands

I need all my little zombie snacks to help out Steampunk Granny. A member of my family, Frankie Granados, and his band, The Turnouts, are in a Fire Department Band Contest that is for fire fighters across the United States.

Not only is Frankie a fire fighter, but so was his father. Two of Frankie’s band members, Mark and Jeff, are Captains with the Tucson Fire Department.

You can only vote once, but that one vote will mean the world to me...and we do want to keep Granny happy because I have pet zombies.

Here is the main link:  http://www.fdic.com/special-events/botb-2016.html

The Turnouts are on the lower right block on page one. Click on their site and listen to their music. Awesome!!!

 

Now, click button at the top right to vote by adding your information. Don't make me send out my zombies!!

Walking the Tightrope of Friendship

                                                         

Family and friends help us to get through life in several ways: by supporting us in our dreams; by encouraging us to keep going when the going gets tough; by playing Devil’s Advocate and reminding us that our desired route may lead to a dead end, but most importantly of all, by being there for us when our world comes crashing down.

Most of the time, when we are hurting there is no shortage of support and shoulders to cry on, but sometimes our towers of strength might not be willing or able to console us when they are fighting their own monsters. Friendship is a game of give and take, but like a balancing game, if we’re not careful with our demands; the tower comes toppling down.
                                                               

Having a good friend is worth all the gold in the world. A friend is family that we get to choose. How would you describe a good friend? Let's play a game. Pretend that you are the CEO of a big company and you are looking for a partner or assistant. What are the qualities that the people applying for the job need to have?
                                                             

First requirement on that hiring list would have to be dependability followed by loyalty, honesty, patience, compassion and most important, a healthy dose of humor. Now say, after several interviews, you've chosen your business associate or assistant. What can they expect from you? You know you have to give as much as you take...so will you be loyal, honest, patient, compassionate and, laugh even when things go wrong?
                                                                  

I have sisters and I have a daughter, so growing up, my sisters were my best friends even though I did try to kill my sister Jane (the middle child) a few times or give her away whenever the opportunity arose after she was born.

                                                                   

Now that my daughter is grown, she has stepped out from the role of a child relationship into the role of a friend...but make no mistake, the rules of friendship must be respected even when dealing with family.
                                                               

I love all my friends, but my daughter and sisters laugh because I keep my friends in separate categories: Childhood friends, Academy of Natural Science friends, Writers' Group friends, Biff Bam Pop friends, Ghost Hunting friends, Steampunk friends, zombie squad friends, Angel friends...I love them all equally but see them for different functions. I would love to get them all together under one roof some day. What a fun event that would be

                                                               

You can have one friend or many...it doesn't matter...what matters is how you treat them and how they treat you. I look for friends who are forgiving of my faults (which are many) and, who enjoy my craziness and quest for adventure. The friends I have are all like that and, that is why I love them.

                                                                

What do you look for in a friend? 

A Diploma to the Wine Country

                                                               

 

This June, I had two more of my nine grandchildren graduate from high school: Katrina Janco who is going to the University of Pennsylvania; Joshua Reid who is going into the Navy. This leaves me with two more grandkids to go; Kadin Gilbert and Nathan Reid. I’m getting old.

                                                             

I usually try to visit my sister Jane Lemmons, who lives in the beautiful Napa Valley every year, and since Joshua was graduating high school; I combined the events into one trip. This was the first time that Joshua or Nathan had ever been to California. Their older brother Jimmy had gone several years ago on vacation with me and Grandpop. My daughter ReRe, Josh, Nathan and I stayed at my sister’s house and I have to say that we had an absolute ball.

Jane Lemmons Bed and Breakfast

Staying at my sister Jane’s house is like staying at the Four Seasons five star hotel. I’m not kidding. She has everything ready for her guests. My daughter and I were given our own caddy of beauty supplies to carry into the bathroom each morning for our daily showers. Our clothes were washed each day. The coffee made fresh each morning. Jane even rented a 12 seat van to transport her son, his wife, and her grandson along with my family all over the Napa and Winery area.

                                  Me, daughter ReRe, and sister Jane                              

I wanted Joshua, the middle child in his family, to have a special graduation gift, especially because he will be enlisting into the Navy. Our agenda for the four days there was designed for him. Here are a few photos of our activities.
                                                       

Joshua and Nathan wanted to do some wall climbing at Rockzilla. My nephew Chris and his son, Joshua joined us.
                                                         

 

Here we are at the beautiful Muir Woods

 

 

My nephew, Chris and his wife, Solannge with son

 

 

 

On the ferry to San Francisco

 

 

Josh and Nathan

 

 

Eating Crabs at the Pompeii Grotto on Fisherman's Wharf

 

 

And we can't forget the wines of Napa Valley.

 

 

All in all, it was one of the best vacations I've had and maybe it was because of my grandkids being there and sharing in the adventure. Nathan has reminded me that he will be graduating in a few years and he’s looking to return to Aunt Jane’s Bed and Breakfast.

Sometimes It's Not Ghost

                                                       

 

This is not a new episode of Life with Fred & Lucy, but maybe it should be. My father was the king of practical jokes and I’ve mentioned on the "Life with Fred & Lucy" page the many tricks my father had played on the entire family over the years. That old saying, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, is so true and I’ll go one step further, the gene for practical jokes runs amok in the Maratea family.

I’m guilty of carrying that particular gene and it has also been passed down to my daughter’s three boys better known as the desperadoes, but this post is about a practical joke that I had forgotten all about.

                                                                     

Several weeks ago, my daughter and her husband purchased a new bedroom set. I had stopped over to see the set and to check out the remodeled master bathroom. My daughter was in the kitchen putting on coffee for us and I was about to head down to the kitchen to tell her how much I loved what she and Jim did with the master bedroom.

                                                                 

                                                             

Something stopped me before I left the room. Was it the spirit of Fred, my deceased father? I’d been thinking about him and my mom over the holidays, so maybe it was he who placed the devilish thought into my head. I began to move the little knick-knacks that my daughter keeps around her room to different places. I was on a roll. The St. Joseph statue went from her husband’s side of the bed to hers. Her photos of the kids were moved all over the place and finally after moving her make-up and hair products to different shelves, I placed a teddy bear that belonged to my father when he was sick, in her bathroom with a bathing cap on its head. Done with my mischief, I headed down to the kitchen for coffee.

                                                                      

I had expected my daughter to call me by that night to say she saw what I had done, but she didn’t and over the next two weeks, I forgot all about the prank. Then, I went over her house yesterday to visit with her and the boys before the big snow storm. While there she asked me to take a ride with her and Nathan to Ross and Game Stop. “Sure,” I said.

As we were driving, my daughter was having a problem with the electrical system in her car, and she had remarked, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore, mom. Strange things have been going on at the house and now this car is acting up.”

“What strange things,” I ask.

“I think the house is either haunted, and if it is, you and your friends will have to come and investigate. But, maybe, it’s someone coming into my house when I’m not home.”

This was the first I was hearing about these events, so I said, “Well, you know Fred and Lucy like to visit you and Aunt Lucy when they’re not hanging out in my attic. Maybe it’s their spirits.”

                                                                         

My daughter shook her head. “No, when they visit, they don’t move things around. I’ve been asking the boys if they’re playing jokes on me, but they said no.”

Nathan chimes in from the back seat. “You ask us every day and Josh and I keep telling you that we don’t go in your room.”

                                                                        

“What about Uncle John?” I asked, because my daughter and her husband had been taking care of Uncle John ever since Jim’s mother passed away.

“No, he doesn’t go into my room. I’ve taken to locking my bedroom door when I’m not home, because it’s every day that I find things moved.” My daughter was very upset and I, as of yet, hadn’t put two and two together.

Nathan pipes in again, “Grandmom, she’s been yelling at us because she thinks we’re doing this to her.”

“What things are moved?” I asked.

“Grandpop Fred’s bear, pictures, my make-up....”

BINGO!

“Uh, Re did you say Fred’s bear?” My daughter nods and I glance back at Nathan with this ‘deer in a headlight’ expression on my face. “That was me.”

“What?” my daughter asks as she pulls into the parking spot in front of Game Stop.

“I moved a lot of stuff around in your bedroom a few weeks ago as a prank, but you never said anything and I had forgotten all about it.”

Nathan is laughing his head off and my daughter is staring at me. “Tell me what you moved?” she demands.

I rattle off the items I had moved, then she and Nathan begin laughing. “Mom, because I didn’t notice everything that you had moved all at once, I’m thinking that it was something new each day.”

“Well, at least you know it’s not ghosts,” I say between belly laughs.

Just then her car began to make all kinds of strange noises. We couldn’t turn it off. Not for a while at least. We didn’t know what was going on with the car, but her husband checked it out.  He could find nothing wrong. If it wasn't the electrical system, then maybe it was my father saying, “Good one!” I'd like to think it was.

                                                                         

Medicine Cabinet Surprise

                                                         
                                                                   

I have a feeling that most of the time, I kind of coast through life and seldom notice things that other people consider useful. Events happen and I just glide along not really paying attention to minor details. I’ve always considered myself to be an observant person, but I’ve come to realize that my observations were always centered on people, their aura, their actions and emotions. When it comes to objects, if I don’t use it or need it; it doesn’t exist.

Today, after babysitting the toddler that I tutor, I was at my computer sipping on tea and working on my interview of Andy Burns, Editor-In-Chief of Biff Bam Pop and author of Wrapped in Plastic: Twin Peaks and, my friend.

                                                                      

                     

My husband was working on the sink in the bathroom. I didn’t know it was broke, but he was fixing, hammering, drilling and running from our bathroom to the basement to check on the pipes. I wanted to help, but I don’t think my husband has recovered from the last time I offered to help with the plumbing and...well...let’s just say...Dan does not trust me with sharp objects.

Like I said I was working on the interview when Dan gives out a yell. “Marie! Come down here. I want to show you something neat.” I was hesitant to go into the basement because a few moments before he asked me to come down, I’d heard him let loose with a string of explicit language.

                                                                   

When I went into the basement, this is what Dan showed me. Razor blades! There was a ton of razor blades. “Where did these come from?” I ask.

“They are from the wall behind the medicine cabinet,” his reply.

“But, how did they get into the wall?”

Did you know that there is a slot in our medicine cabinet to put used blades? I didn’t. Supposedly, the used blades are pushed through the slot to live happily ever after or, until Dan decides to do plumbing. My husband was surprised that I didn’t know about the slot. I saw it, but never knew what its use was for.

                                                               

“How did you get rid of used blades?” he asked.

“There was a slot on the back of razor cartridges that my dad would place his old blades in; new blades came out the top; used blades on the bottom.”

We’ve only dislodged a few hundred blades so far, but there are more inside the wall. They can stay there for all I care. As my husband finishes the work on the bathroom, I’m sitting at my desk wondering why someone would invent a slot in the wall for old blades. It must be a man thing.

  

Life with Fred & Lucy, Episode 37: Graves 'R' Us

                                                        

 

This isn’t the normal Fred and Lucy stories that I usually tell to people when I’m remembering my parents, but in a way, it’s quite relevant. My father, always the planner, always the practical one when his OCD wasn’t in overdrive, was a stickler for preparing for the future. It didn’t matter what the topic was; he was prepared.

                                                               

 

In case of world chaos, he had enough food, water and emergency supplies squirreled away to make any Zombie Squad Member proud. Fred used this ‘better prepared than dead’ mindset even in how and where he wished to be buried. He and Mary (our loving stepmother and wife #3) had gone shopping for their ‘last home’ and picked a  lovely spot at the Saints Peter and Paul Cemetery in Marple Township, Delaware County, Pa.

                                                                               

                                                                       

This was not just a grave to Mary and Fred and, cemeteries meant more than just death. I remember the many occasions that my father and stepmother asked me to drive them to their future graves. They wanted to “check it out,” and make sure the neighborhood (the section they were to be buried in) was still populated by nice people and not losers. I usually had a few grandkids with me, so we packed a lunch and threw a few folding chairs into the trunk. We ate, then me and the grandkids would roam the area and look at the tombstones, or father would spend the time telling my grandkids funny stories about his younger days. Finally, we'd pack up and head home. These trips were always fun, but visiting the dead wasn’t new to me.                                                       

I don’t know if this is an Italian thing brought over by my parents, but I remember growing up with Fred and Lucy packing us four rowdy children into the car to visit dead family members at the Holy Cross Cemetery in southwest Philly. The aunts and uncles would join us there. While the adults chatted over lunch, my siblings , cousins and I would check out the mausoleums or the huge ornate tombstones. The ghosts that I saw, always seemed happy for the company and didn’t mind that we kids would accidently walk upon their graves. Yes, I saw dead people. I'm an Empath. It runs in the family.

Fast forward to the present when my father died. Grave bought, coffin chosen, inheritance divided equally among the four children, my father left little work for the survivors to worry about. A year later, when one of my husband’s sisters (single) had become seriously ill, the decision was made for us to chip in and buy two plots with each plot holding two coffins. The plan was that Dan and I would be Diane’s roommates so to speak.
                                                                            

                                                                       
The extra grave would be saved for an emergency. Rent a grave?  The three of us decided on a secluded spot at St. Mary’s Cemetery. We selected an area in front of a big tree with wooded area nearby. Perfect! When Diane passed away, she was placed in a grave that she had chosen. 
                                                  
My mother, Lucy, who was living on the west coast with her second husband never planned for the bid “D”. She was afraid of dying and afraid of being buried in the ground, alive. I couldn’t bury my mother with Tom, my stepfather, because he’d been cremated and his ashes had gone to his daughter. When Mom died, I took her ashes home to New Jersey and placed them in the new niches that St. Mary’s Cemetery now has available. Mom would be in the same cemetery and we would be neighbors. Everything was set in place, or so we thought. Mom in upper right corner. Dan and I next row down                                                               

                                                                       
Over time, my husband and I began to like the idea of cremation and small niches a whole lot better than graves, so after talking about it, we sold our plot and bought two niches. We are now located in the row under my mom, Lucy Aniello. We would still be neighbors to Diane, but we would be a little bit further down the trail.  It turned out that it was a good thing we moved. I can't say the same for my sister-in-law, Diane.

Construction
                                                                     

To add more ramps and make interstates 295 and 42 N/S freeways wider, the State has taken a large swatch of land away from the cemetery and included the land into the plans for major construction. Do you remember the wooded area and big tree that we liked when we first bought the plots? Gone!  Diane now has 42N/S Freeway as a neighbor and, we can’t afford to move her.  There is also a historic home in close vicinity to Diane that was used as an underground railroad during the Civil War. It is slated to be torn down for the larger highway. Shame.

                            Dan looking at construction 10 ft. from grave                              

So, Dan and I are set for the inevitable and  like our new digs, or will, when we're dead.  I've mentioned to my sister Lucy and her husband that there are two niches left on the wall and, they are right next to Dan and I. She's considering the prospect of becoming our neighbors after death. I found out that my Uncle Mario and Aunt Rose will be residing at St. Mary’s when they pass away, too. It will be one hell of a big party at this cemetery with all us crazy ghosts hanging out.  I asked my daughter if she wants to purchase two niches for the future, but she’s young and thinks we’re all crazy.
Update
I found out that we can get ceramic photos placed on our niches. That is so awesome and I know what picture I want on mine. What do you think? Too much?
                                                                                 

 Nah!!! I'm going with it! Dan, on the other hand, wants the picture of him in his dress uniform from the Philadelphia Fire Department on his niche.