My mini miracle

My mentor, confidant, and best friend for my entire life had been my sister Dorothy. Before she died in 2009, Dorothy gave me a small gold charm in the likeness of an angel.

              I hung it from a gold chain around my neck and never took it off. When my doctor ordered a chest x ray, my arthritic fingers couldn’t unhook the clasp. The technician undid it for me. After I got home I put a magnetic clasp on the chain making it easy to take on and off.

              On Saturday March 18, as I undressed for bed, I realized the charm and chain no longer sat on my chest. I thought perhaps it became unhooked as I pulled my shirt over my head. I searched my bedroom and didn’t find it. Then I searched the house, the car and the garage. No luck. It had vanished.

             I sat down and went over the day’s events in my mind. I remembered that when I walked my dog, I scratched my neck and caught my finger nail in the chain. Maybe that’s when it became loose and fell to the ground. I thought about going out to look for it with a flashlight but vetoed that idea and set my alarm for early Sunday morning.

          The next day I retraced my steps and said a prayer asking the Divine Spirit, if I am to find it, to please guide my way. I also implored my sister’s spirit to help me. I searched twice on Sunday and twice on Monday, going over the same terrain with the same negative results. Someone must have found it before me.

               I said another prayer and asked the Divine to bless the person who found it and may she wear it with joy. I hoped that it brings her as much comfort as it brought me. 

             Then I asked for help to release my attachment to it: to let it go with love. I don’t need a pendant to remind me of my sister. Her spirit lives in my heart.

          On Tuesday, three days after I lost it and one day after I gave up hope, something caught my eye as I walked my dog. There it sat on the lush lawn next to the sidewalk. The charm and chain lay spread across the grass as if a jeweler’s hand had displayed it on green velvet. I had passed and searched that spot for days and didn’t find it. How could it suddenly appear? Then I realized that as soon as I released it, I found it. I was blind to it for as long as I desired it. But relinquishing attachment, enabled me to perceive it.   

As it says in the bible, “and the blind will see.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

If I wasn’t a believer before, I am now.

St. Pat's Parade

I attended the St. Patty’s Day parade for the first and only time on March 17, 1970. My friend Bill had invited me to meet him in Manhattan for lunch and subsequent viewing of the parade.

After introducing me to his co-workers, we walked to Finnegan’s Bar & Grill. The place had door-to-door and wall-to-wall people all ordering corned beef and cabbage with green beer. We made our way to the back room and savored our traditional Irish meal. After eating, we ventured out into the cold and blustery NY air and walked to 5^th Ave. bucking the wind all the way. The parade looked in full swing with the Ancient Order of Hibernians in their green Fedoras and New York’s finest NYPD in full dress blue uniforms. They marched along the green stripe painted by the city down the center of 5^th Ave.

            Too cold to stand for long, we ambled up the avenue until Bill said “Let’s stop in here to warm up.” We entered a very crowded bar where everyone in a jovial mood invited us to imbibe with them. We obliged. After “warming up” we left the bar to see the rest of the parade. Somehow we had accumulated a group of eight to ten people who accompanied us. A block or two later, we decided to “warm up” again in another bar. This process repeated itself for the rest of the afternoon.

            At four o’clock someone suggested we all go for coffee.

            “Oh, I’d love a cup of coffee,” I said. Knowing I had to drive home, I needed to counter the effects of all the alcohol I drank.

            So the group of us (and it seemed to have grown), trudged to another bar and grill. The waiter ushered us downstairs to a large crowded room with long tables.

            “Coffee all around?” Bill asked.

            “Yes, Yes,” we echoed.

            When the coffee arrived, I warmed my hands on the cup and took a welcomed sip only to realize that he had ordered “Irish Coffee.” A generous shot of whiskey with a liberal layer of cream adorned the miniscule amount of coffee.

            “I think I’ll have tea,” I said.