Monday, April 25, 2011

Traditions keeping us connected

Easter for my family has always been a favorite.
Easter means spring is in blossom and summer travel and warm nights are on the horizon.
But, most importantly, Easter in the Greek tradition means many nights spent in church, a fasting that teaches discipline, a lamb feast that gives reward and the most cherished and honored time of year.
Another reason why I love Easter is because of the home videos that come from the holiday, from the temper tantrums at ages 5 to 8 to which flower dress looked best on me to the egg cracking competitions between us siblings.
In fact, the best home videos always came from Holy Week.
When I was younger, Easter was my favorite holiday initially because of the malted robin eggs in my Easter basket, also a contribution to the hilarious home videos where my brothers would wrestle me for them.
I would end up on the lesser end of the deal with chocolate all over my face, at least 10 robin eggs less and talked into a ride in the Radio Flyer down our street because of the beautiful weather.
In the end, I may have been a few robin eggs down and accumulated some stained spring dresses, but my brothers and I went to church and immediately bonded over our favorite traditions of our church.
Every Holy Week my parents would haul us kids to church Monday through Sunday, teaching both discipline and the gospels of our church.
Occasionally, especially on the Saturday midnight service, you could find us kids curled up in a ball, candle wax in our hair and sleeping under the pews.
Among the beautiful hymns and community that was established there, us kids were always a part of it, even if it was past our bedtime.
Each year this was our family’s routine. Because of this, as we grow up, move to different cities and take on different lives, we always come back.
We come back to our tradition.
Now I see kids in their precious Easter dresses that probably took an hour to get on just right, from distractions of their plentiful Easter baskets, the ones learning their ways as alter boys and those sleeping in the pews.
I can’t help but think about their potential and that with time, they too will come back to the tradition, even if their lives take them elsewhere.
Throughout the years, our traditions and family ties never cease to amaze me.
There we were, the kids who used to sleep underneath the pews and awake at the end of service to commence in our favorite activity of the cracking of the eggs.
Did we know what it all meant at the time?
For the most part, no, but being there year after year together in our small quaint and traditional church taught us something that couldn’t be taught in a sermon.
It taught us that no matter your location, state of mind, schedule or lack of family, you can always find comfort, a sense of home and peace in those pews.
We are much taller, much older and much more independent now, and yet we will drive miles, stand for hours to be together and continue the tradition that our parents instilled in us from a young age.
Traditions keep us grounded while keeping us connected.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Sunday, April 17, 2011

His Fruitful Life

He said in his authentic and weathered Greek accent as if we were in a village, "You like apples? Good take one." 
"You like plums? Perfect have this."
I smiled as I took a bite out of the ripe plum pulled from the crate of the Pete's Market, that he has owned for over 40 years.
It was perfect.  
"Well I have to buy something, like olive oil, orzo...something," I said. 
"No come back and then you buy something. See we nice people over here," he commented. 

I will be back. Because it wasn't just his abundance of colorful and assorted fruit that made this man so precious, it was his fruitful life, full of family, culture, love, wine and well of course food. 

Saturday, April 16, 2011




My best friends sent me an incredible handcrafted made with love book in the mail this week with the title "She...", they filled in the ... with touching phrases like our best friend, will inspire, will persevere, an artist, a dancer this book inspired me to  never stop filling in that blank. So today I filled in these ... with "She is a wanderer with a journal, a pen and no where to be." 

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Let it go... let it ride

We may have wore out our welcome at the Rose. Two concerts in two days, and a couple winks from the 70 year old bartender who's been tending the bar for 21 years. The Texas country music always seems to put me in a unique mood. The kind where I let my boots glide across the hardwood floor, swing my arms up in the air, twirl in circles with my eyes closed and sing every word. The words I memorized on the countless drives back and forth to the ranch. The flow of our two-steps carried us throughout the bar, through the next day of work and onto round two the following night. We may not return for a couple of months (just out of pure dignity), but those songs and that two-step has seemed to smoothly transitioned into our daily routines on Hooker street.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Good Morning Denver

There's nothing like rubbing your eyes after a not so restful Tuesday night and waking up to this...