Well…..here we are!  No matter how old we get or where our choices lead us in life, the little girl in us lives on.

Old Jersey (me) meet New Jersey (the girls)

I got the privilege to visit the East coast, and I must say I was beyond cloud nine.  I stayed in the city and enjoyed the East side, West Side, Fifth Ave, Bryant Park, Rockefeller Center, Downtown, and everything I could fit in during my short stay.  I needed more time, as there are endless possibilities in the greatest city in the world (yes, that is my opinion)!  Next time—next visit…

On my last day I had lunch at John’s Pizza in NYC. It’s beautiful inside and I was enjoying the smell of Italian food, Christmas decorations, and wonderland music! It was a great way to end my trip (I thought) until I overheard the staff preparing a table for 10 people. I wasn’t sure if I was happy to hear this.  More people could possibly mean more noise, but “whatever”, I thought, “prepare for the worst.”  While enjoying my Riesling and Italian sausage, mushroom, and onion pie, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a crowd coming towards me.  I did a double take, turned, and watched the parade of the most beautiful young girls I’ve ever seen.  The girls were stunning young beauties with age and time on their side.

I couldn’t help but smirk as I reflected back on my 20s’.  I remember the joy that comes with that age and the lack of things to really worry about.  The “girls” were a breath of fresh air and were so well behaved that I couldn’t sit and let this moment pass me by.  I got up from my chair and approached them.  I first asked them if they were from New York, they said, “No, we’re from Jersey.”  I was pleasantly surprised and exclaimed that I was also a Jersey girl.  I then asked if they were in there 20s’ and they laughed and said they were in high school.  I gave them some old school advice and wished them well…so they thought!  I returned to my seat and told my friend how sweet they were and if I had a daughter, she could have been any one of them sitting there.  I thought again about our encounter and questioned whether I should leave it at that or take a picture and write a story.  Well…here we are.

I think at times the universe puts “things” in our paths, and it’s up to us to walk on by or stop and enjoy.  I got up from my chair again, approached their table, gave them my card, and asked if they would mind taking a picture with me.  I told them I was going to write an article about “old jersey meets new jersey.”  They were adorable and we took a moment to enjoy our gift from the universe.

What can I tell you about a “Jersey Girl?”  Well, for starters: we love fashion (see pic) and look at life differently because we don’t wake up to sunshine every day.  We battle the elements and dig the trenches for our future.  We are loyal to our family and friends and extend a hand when needed to others.  We are kind to strangers (they didn’t know me) and very protective over loved ones.  We love living close to the city because we are adventurous and curious, and we are not afraid of change.  We are diversified in every way and all those components make up the brains, beauty, and kindness people see.

I lived on the East coast for 44 years.  I was born and raised in Mahwah, New Jersey and lived in New York for 17 years.  I feel completely prepared for what life has in store for me because of where I grew up (no offense to others, but Jersey girls speak their mind).  I can handle the good, the bad, and the ugly—bring it on…

I have three wonderful sons ranging in age from 18 down to 7, and I am extremely grateful and lucky to have them, but I must admit, if I went for one more (child that is) I would have loved to have a daughter.  So, I’m banking on wonderful daughters-in-law, so I could be the next Mrs. Vitale.  Mrs. Vitale was one of my boyfriend’s mothers who didn’t have a daughter and I must say she was the kindest woman who welcomed me into her family and treated me like a daughter.  She will never know the impact she had on me and how blessed and a better person I am for knowing her.

As I thanked the lovely group of girls and said goodbye, I turned to my friend and said any one of them could be have been my daughter.  We all have that East coast look and I was proud to be part of their moment.

I have to give a shout out to the moms’ of these wonderful girls – job well done, ladies!

Proud to be a Jersey girl!
xo, jo

and now he’s home…

I wrote an article last year about my son leaving California after our family moved out here (after 45 years in Jersey/New York).  My son wanted to go back to the East Coast and finish his senior year.  It wasn’t a surprise, and in the back of my mind that was one dream left to fulfill (for both of us).  It was a hard and selfless decision – but the right one.  I never published the article, and although many people have read it and told me to publish it, I just couldn’t bring myself to press the “red button.”  I think at times I am superstitious, or maybe I was secretly awaiting his return so I could “finish” what “I” had started.

Let’s travel back in time…Sunday June 3, 2012

My family and I are on a plane headed back to California and guess who’s with us?  It’s my son, Michael.  I attended his graduation today at Don Bosco Prep (http://www.donboscoprep.org/page.aspx?pid=345) in Ramsey, New Jersey.  I was over the moon proud, and I know my parents were as well.  They were looking down at their grandson knowing he was the first of great things to come and that his brothers would follow by his example.  It was extremely hot, and I was surprised when I did not shed a tear!  I had gone “back home” to a place that I once knew, but realized there was nothing left but my son to collect and bring to his new home.  I had a secret the other parents sitting next to me didn’t know about, which was that Michael was going to college in California.  There was no need to cry because I had my son back – closer than I had expected.

As I saw the procession of graduates enter the stadium, I stood on top of the bleacher seats and feverishly looked for this beautiful face and gorgeous wavy black hair.  I nervously scanned the boys’ faces until I fell upon his.  My chest softened up, my heart warmed, my breathing lightened, an enormous smile took hold of my face and I yelled out, “Luch!”  He looked up in the bleachers packed with hundreds of people and found me.  He saw my face and for a moment, time stood still.  We smiled at each other and I felt a wave of love wash over me.  I looked up into the sky and said, “thank you God.”

Through this painful process, I felt like I had died everyday waiting for him.  In my mind, I had to “right a wrong” regardless of my own selfish feelings.  I wanted to show him that even though I have the power as his parent, I chose to hand it over to him.  I watched (from a distance) as he navigated himself through the death of his grandmother (with whom he lived at the time), the pain of commuting to school from NY to NJ (car, train, bus, and walking) every day, while battling the weather, shopping for food, doing his own laundry, feeling homesick, taking care of his grandmother, making decisions on his own, fulfilling an online college course and finally achieving a 4.5 GPA in AP classes.

I thought to myself, this was the best plane ride I have ever taken!  I thought about his accomplishments and digressed back to countless conversations I had with my parents.  My Mom would refer to my boys as “her boys”, which warmed my heart because I knew she was so proud.  She was proud of everything from the way they behaved to the sacrifices they made to better their lives.  My Dad would always say, “If you want to show a child an example, use yourself.”  Guess what, Dad?  I was listening and it shows!  One of the greatest things you can hear from a parent is I’m proud of you!  I remember my parents saying that to me and I pay it forward to my boys.  I learned by many examples growing up, including the good, the bad, and the black sheep.  I share everything with my children so they too can learn by examples.  Everyone can “talk” but only a few can “walk” (a great conversation I very recently had with my eldest brother, who was such a great example to learn from and I am blessed being his sister)!

In order to “check” myself, I often reminisce (in my mind) of the ten months I lost with my son.  I missed all the little details of his days, I missed ten months of laughter, ten months of hugs, ten months of hearing him say, “hey Mom.”  What have other people gained?  They gained his adorable smirk, his big pearly white smile, his eyes that welcome you home to his soul, his jokes, hugs, and personal stories.  They walked away feeling like they met a young man with a head on his shoulders, who wants to better the world by helping his fellow man.   “They” in essence gained all the little details about him and I consider them lucky!  I am proud and no one knows “your story” like your Mom.

Even though my son sacrificed, he gained!  He gained priceless moments with my Mom before she had to leave us.  It’s ironic how the time Michael spent with Nona reminded me of the time I spent with my Mom.  I would rather stay home with my Mom, make us tea, and play name that tune on the radio than go out with my friends.  It was a relationship like no other, and those moments fill my soul when I grieve for her.  My Mom once said to me, “who better to watch over your son than me.”  Once again, my Mom was right!  My Mom is like the priceless gift she gave me, and I wear it proudly.

My little guy was watching Blue’s Clues the other day.  It was the episode where Steve was heading off to college.  My little guy turned to me and said, “Mama, RaRa (another nickname for Michael) is like Steve!  He’s headed off to college!”  I laughed and hugged my Nick while thinking to myself, I love these moments. Life is about the small little details and when our time has come, that’s what we will be thinking about before we pass on.

A closing thought: Everything I learned, I learned from my parents.

xo,jo

It was a beautiful Southern California morning (again); however, in my mind it was cold, dark, and dismal.  I was headed to the airport with my seventeen year old son as my co-pilot.  He was headed back to the East Coast to finish his senior year at Don Bosco Prep—a decision that forever changed my life and I am hoping changed his for the better.  In between the tears I kept thinking there has to be a “positive” to this day.  I was saying so long to my friend, my first of everything (when it comes to children), my half who understood and completed my thoughts, the young boy who I almost lost at birth, who now has grown into a young man literally overnight and hopefully a decent human being who would help to better the world.  All those thoughts did not bring me comfort, just gut-wrenching pain and wondering where my next breath was coming from.  As I walked him to security, I hugged him as hard as I could, feeling his wavy hair and inhaling his scent, praying all along that this was just a dream and I would soon be waking up to coffee and a truffle.  “I apologize, Michael, for any hurt I may have caused you; I love you more than you will ever know.  Be strong and know that I am just a phone call away.”

Okay, so where was the silver lining, the happiness knowing I had sacrificed for my first born?  I was waiting amongst the loud chatter in the courtyard, the smoke-filled “free air”, the beautiful blue sky, and my newly made mocha latte.  Trying to gather myself and my thoughts, crying in spurts and feeling embarrassed, while at the same time not caring about my emotional display, I digressed to the making my delicious latte.  A cute girl was patiently waiting as I New-Yorked in great detail how I wanted my latte made: “Grande, nonfat, two-pump mocha latte, with a tease of whip; and Oh, I will be watching, so please do not put in whole milk?  I need to rationalize my truffle this morning!”  She pleasantly obliged and I waited patiently.  Did I see her hand tremble?  Maybe, poor thing; she had no idea what I had just been through, and my t-shirt was not displaying my sad story.

As I was waiting, an attractive, elderly gentleman walked over to her and explained that his granddaughter was flying home and she could not take a certain product on the plane with her, and asked if the barista wanted it.  It caught my attention. One, because I heard something nice and two, it was a very expensive cleanser from a brand I know very well!  The kind young girl extended her graceful, but still shaking hand, and accepted the gift and said thank you. The gentleman turned to me, almost needing a co-pilot himself to back up his generous gift and asked, “This is a very good product, no?”  I said, “Oh, absolutely!  It was very kind of you to do that, and I would be more than happy to explain to the young girl what was just given to her.  She handed me my latte and said, “I am embarrassed; I do not know what this is or how to use it.”  I thought, “oh, relief!  I can stop thinking about my son and distract myself with helping out a stranger.”

I explained what the product was, how to use it, when to use it, how much to use of it, and what should accompany the product when she does use it.  This huge smile came across the face of a beautiful stranger and her thank you was the silver lining I was praying for.  I told her that this was not only an expensive product, but it was also a gift kindly given from a stranger, and that maybe she would like to pay it forward with another kind act to another stranger.  She stood for a moment, had a split thought, and said, “Thanks so much, I will.”  As I turned to walk away, my son’s plane flew overhead and a tear rolled down my face; however, it was accompanied by a fulfilling act of kindness.

Our airport goodbye

Live and love to the fullest extent.

xo,jo

(stay tuned for part two)