Childhood Innocence

The little blonde-haired girl looked up at me, sparkling blue eyes on a face filled with wonderment. "Aunty Kar," she said in a voice much like the sweetest Disney character ever. "I wanna be a princess for trick-or-treat." I knelt down, giving her a hug,  remarking on what a wonderful idea that was. My heart cracked for her, this innocent little child, my niece, Elizabeth, three years old. What will life hold for her, what's in store? No matter what path she may take as she grows, right here in this moment, she's a little princess in her mind.

We played in an old-fashioned sprinkler, turned to its lowest setting since her baby sister only likes it that way. We splashed in the puddle on the sidewalk, wetting our bare feet, the three of us, giggling as if it was only us. A special, heartfelt moment for me, seeing their smiles, these two little girls, feeling their joy in the simpleness of the day. Warm sunshine surrounded us, bees buzzing in the nearby zinnias, my father's prized flowers. The youngest, Elena, a face full of awe, reached toward the delicate blossom at one point, and I gently guided her to lovingly caress the flower, to be careful so we could enjoy it, especially since we didn't want to upset Pappy. A little child can understand beauty and want to care for it, for she stroked the petals with her chubby little fingers as if petting a small animal.

In moments like these, I thank God above for becoming an aunt. Though I'm not a grandparent yet, I know what it must feel like to have that special bond for your grandchildren. I understand the innocence, awe and amazement these precious little ones feel as they experience life for the first time.

May they both blossom like the beautiful flowers. May their lives be whole and good, blessed and loving. May they come to know God and goodness. And may I be there with them as they grow, teaching and guiding, playing and learning from them what its like to be innocent again.

I love you Elizabeth and Elena.

The Love of My Parents

Laughter, love, warmth, caring, companionship, friendship, happiness, tears, good times, bad times, sickness, health, understanding, peace. These are the words I choose to describe my parent's marriage. It's well over fifty years. Fifty. They've stayed together through difficulties and triumphs. Through heartbreak and heartfelt moments. They knew what it was like to have plenty, and knew what it was like to have barely anything. Yet they never faltered, not once.

In this world where it's so easy to throw things away, even relationships, it amazes me to see two people with the bond my parents have. Certainly it was no different when they were younger. They, too, had moments where I'm sure it didn't feel like they could take it any longer. But something kept them together.

I've seen my dad at Mother's side through difficult years growing up. With tenderness and understanding I saw him caring for her, never giving up hope in the darkest of moments. And saw that same love reciprocated as she stood by Dad during latter years and his own health issues. Times we weren't even sure he'd be there another day while, with faith, she remained steadfast.

It's with gratitude I watch them even today, a twinkle in Dad's eyes when Mom walks into the room. He'd do anything for her. Anything to make her smile, to give her a few moments of happiness. And Mom in her way, gives back to my father. With homey, delicious baked goods, and hot meals, she still has the knack in the kitchen, the way to a man's heart.

My parents are simple folks. Two people who enjoy sitting upon their front porch, their small water fountain trickling before them, hummingbirds darting to and fro at the feeder. A few pieces of bread thrown out to other feathered friends make for moments of enjoyment. An occasional hot roast beef sandwich shared from one of the local restaurants, some instant scratch tickets hoping for a win; watching a beloved movie, the kind you know every line. Worn photo albums, their covers dusty, pages falling apart. Classical music from scratchy vinyl records, one's they've listened to many, many times.  These are the things they share, the small things that bind them, giving them comfort in their later years.

I pray I've learned what it takes to be content in whatever the circumstances in a marriage. After all, I've had years of watching, years of gleaning all the knowledge I could from two people whose love has only grown stronger with every passing day.

Not just another "animal" story

We've all heard dramatic tales of owners and their beloved pets of many years becoming separated when a move is taking place, the pet becomes lost  somehow, or runs away. I've always found these tales to be almost unbelievable. How can a dog travel hundreds of miles, following some sort-of scent, only to be reunited with his cherished owner weeks later?

The power of "belonging" and how even an animal may feel this way, was taught to me in a big way many years ago.

We've always owned cats, even a dog, but sometimes the occasional "stray" would find its way into our yard. My mom, being the kind-hearted pet lover she was, would make certain food and water was left out daily causing the stray to return time and again. One such year, a scruffy-looking orange male tabby cat, stole his way into our hearts. He appeared to be the type of cat that nobody wanted: a bit worse for wear, an old "Tom" type cat. That time, Mom went a bit farther than before. She let him into our house, worrying over the weather conditions. She made a small bed for him out of some old blankets and put them in a corner of the kitchen where he slept many blissful hours away.

A time came when he wasn't looking so well. Mom could tell he was very sick. My brother and I, also being animal lovers decided to take him to the local vet. Maybe there was something the doctor could do to make him a bit more comfortable perhaps. We had no cat carrier, and the old boy was moving so slowly, we bundled him into some blankets and off we went.

We pulled into the parking lot of the animal clinic, and I opened the door with Mr. Kitty in my arms. Now you have to remember, this is a cat that barely moved except to eat a little from his food dish and then returned quickly to his bedding. The cat bolted from my arms, ran across a road and disappeared into a heavily wooded area. My brother and I frantically drove around for the longest time, calling for a cat that had no name. We never found him.

I felt a sort-of relief in some ways. He was out of our concern now, and hopefully would live out his remaining days in peace somewhere.

Weeks went by, and life settled into a routine. My parents returned from a trip to the grocery store one day when Dad made a startling discovery. "Look who's back, hon," he said and pointed. There, at the end of the driveway sat old, orange Tom cat, the cat who had no name. A cat who really wasn't "ours". He'd made his way over several miles and at least two or more weeks to come back to what he felt was "home." Perhaps nobody in his little kitty life had ever treated him with such respect and kindness. A short time later, he ran away, never to be seen again. I'd like to think he came to say goodbye to a family who loved him just for a little bit.

Stuttering Foundation

Humbled, honored and blessed to have my book available on the awesome website of  the Stuttering Foundation.

If you stutter, if you feel the insecurity, loneliness or stigma of a stammer, you're not alone. Please know there are organizations out there to help you feel welcome, help you find your place in the world. Open your heart and your life to all the wonderful possibilities in store for you.

There are many resources available to you, reading material, sites to visit. My fictional book, Shadow of My Father's Secret is also available as a resource, though fiction, you'll become immersed in the world of twenty-year-old Aaron, born with a stutter, trying to find the love and acceptance of a father who rejects him. Come away feeling as if you've just made a good friend in the person of Aaron. Walk in his shoes and learn to forgive, find your talents, and live the life God created you to live.

Take a look at the Stuttering Foundation's amazing website. You'll make a friend or two along the way.

 http://www.stutteringhelp.org/books-stuttering

http://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Fathers-Secret-Karen-Malena/dp/0988922525/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1369878564&sr=1-4&keywords=karen+malena

http://pinterest.com/stutteringfdn/#_=_

http://www.stutteringhelp.org/

Do you want to go to the parade?

A knock on my door, and my neighbor, Zach appeared, with a question I didn't think I'd ever hear from him again. "Do you want to walk up to the parade?"

Just this morning I'd been thinking about him. It was a yearly ritual,  walking up to the yearly Memorial Day parade together.

Zach has been a wonderful kid, courteous and kind. Always with a smile, always  polite. But as he approaches his teen years, I figured he would never want to attend a parade, let alone, ask me.

 I've seen him grow as the years progressed from a cute little kid who loved trick or treat night and playing ball with his daddy,  into a taller version of himself, with thoughts of playing football for his school team on his mind now. Yet one thing has remained through the years: he's never changed who he is. With good parent's guidance, Zach has always been a great kid. He asks me if he can help when he sees me outside doing yard work. And when company is here, he politely shakes hands with everyone, having conversation with them like an adult.

So it was with a bit of surprise, I opened my door to find Zach asking the question once more. "Do you want to walk up to the parade?" A lump formed in my throat. We have this time once more, I thought. How much longer until you're a teenager, thoughts of girls and your whole life before you?

He'll always be special to me. I've felt like an auntie more than a neighbor. I think he'll do great things someday. And if he feels uncomfortable as he gets a little older talking to me while he's with friends, I'll understand that time passes as a child grows into adulthood. They always come back though. They never lose their roots. I'll be here, watching, praying, hoping for the best in his life.

Thank You For Teaching Me

     

 Recently I had lunch with a wonderful man I'm honored to know; my former employer. We'd met one day at Maple Restaurant, an old establishment in Ambridge, the small, homey town I grew up in. All the pleasant talk and chatter with him brought me back. Back to a time when I was young, the whole world before me.......

      When I graduated business school at eighteen, I was faced with the daunting task of job hunting. What to do? Go on interviews that the school would provide, all of them in the downtown Pittsburgh area? No way.
     As chance would have it, my mother was looking through the paper one day and spotted an ad: Dental Assistant, will train....it read. When she saw it was the dentist I'd gone to as a little girl, she encouraged me to call.
     Dental Assistant? What on earth?
     Thirty some years later, I've never looked back. The dental field has been extremely rewarding for me, teaching me compassion, patience, caring and understanding.
     The man who would help me learn these lessons and many others is my former boss, Dr. Alvin Zamba. A quiet, good soul, this man would teach me more about life, people, work ethics and goodness than I would ever learn elsewhere. With his gentle approach to our patients in the dental office we worked together for twenty seven years, Dr. Zamba showed me that honesty and hard work are the traits we should all strive for.
     The dental work we put out through the years was impeccable. A periodontist, gum specialist, in our area would call Dr. Zamba, "Beaver County's Most Well-Kept Secret". And he was. Our fees were reasonable, and the work of his hands, incredible. Our satisfied patients would tell me in private, how pleased they were with their appointments.
     In all the years working with Dr. Zamba, I would not miss a day's work. I looked forward to the bond and closeness with the elderly patients we saw on a daily basis. I listened to their problems, hopes and dreams. I laughed with them and cried with them.
     Several times, the doctor and I went to the bedside of a sick, older man in his own home. He didn't have much longer to live, but his family wanted him to have dentures made for whatever time he had left. I think of that now, how my boss took the time out of his busy day, and the comfort of working in our office to do this for the family.
     Yes, there were testy moments, as there were only the two of us working together for many years, and maybe my temper wanted to flare at times, but keeping myself in check was also another lesson. First and foremost, respect of my employer, and learning to hold my tongue when I may not have agreed with something.
     I miss those days, a simpler time in a small town, in an old-fashioned office decorated in antiques with no frills, no computer, no exciting major equipment. Only the tools and skills of a wonderful man, a man I am pleased to have called "boss" for many years.
     Here's to you, Dr. Zamba, in thankfulness for all I learned at your side.

Don't let anything hold you back

Neil Lee Griffin
has already been a staple in the upstate music scene for years. The singer/songwriter/composer developed a stutter at an early age which only fueled the pursuit of music wherein the stutter disappears. With tastes as varied as his skill set, Griffin always challenges himself to create a distinct, unique sound for every album he produces. While much of his music tends toward the genres of rock & pop, don’t be surprised to see him dabbling in jazz, metal, world music, and more!
In late 2010 Griffin adopted a scarecrow as a symbol to represent his work, in that the scarecrow is silent but knows all about the world. Griffin explains that the scarecrow is symbolic of his stuttering. In the media stuttering is often made fun of, implying that the stutterer is stupid. Griffin explains that “we’re like the scarecrow in that we may be slow to speak or silent, but we are not stupid.”
“Empty House” (2007) marks Neil Lee Griffin’s first album which combines haunting instrumental pieces with fist-pumping punk rock songs. His sophomore release entitled “Circe De Morte” (2008) a haunting rock opera of a vengeful circus took the artist in a new even darker direction incorporating the use of a digital orchestra. In 2010 he released “V3″, featuring a softer sound than previous work. Here he tells a story of a cosmonaut’s struggle with finding happiness in the stars or on earth. His 2011 fourth album entitled “Tanglewylde” takes Griffin in yet another direction with a more rootsy element laced with harder rock sounds while retaining the dark moody aspect of the majority of his music. In 2012 “The Diary of Scarlett Crow” will be released. A chilling story of a young woman coming to grips with the twisted world around her, but things my not be what they seem.

Check out Neil's awesome website and "like" his Scarecrow page:

 https://www.facebook.com/pages/Scarecrows/137763163060242?fref=ts

http://neilleegriffin.wix.com/scarecrow#!scarecrows/cfd6

Buy Neil's CD here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009191V5Y/ref=as_li_tf_til?tag=socialdistra-20&camp=14573&creative=327641&linkCode=as1&creativeASIN=B009191V5Y&adid=1EN2S5RSK80QCV33PHM6&&ref-refURL=http%3A%2F%2Fupstaterocks.us%2Fneil-lee-griffin%2F%3Ffb_comment_id%3Dfbc_408054255951463_2716410_447412065349015

In Aaron's Pain-filled voice

     Recently I've joined several sites on Facebook which deal with stuttering and many people have asked me why I chose to write about a young man who stutters.
     The main character in my novel Shadow of My Father's Secret is Aaron DeAngelis. Born with a stuttering problem, dealing with his father's verbal abuse, Aaron comes to feel worthless and unloved. I've chosen this subject matter because I believe at one time or another in our lives, we've always felt the stigma of an impediment. Maybe yours was being too short, or too tall. Maybe it was having acne or being overweight. Maybe, like myself it was the stigma of curvature of the spine. But we've all had something to deal with. The feelings of worthlessness and insecurity may also be something we've dealt with either due to our impediment or a host of other reasons.
     The character in my book becomes a high school bully as a result of being made fun of. He has taken verbal assaults not only from his father, but kids in school, and as a result, begins to strike out at them. In real life, children are the victims of bullying. Children with impediments and differences.
     Let's open our eyes friends. Lets try to really look inside at the heart of the person before we decide to judge if they're beautiful enough, tall enough, skinny enough or just plain normal. What is normal anyway? Let's stop viewing the world and those in it with judgmental eyes. Let's take the time to really get to know a person. Maybe they'll become one of the best friends you've ever had. Perhaps you'll learn something from them, or have something to offer yourself.
     Stuttering, like all other "stigmas" is a part of life. My curvature of the spine, though hard to deal with at times, has made me a better person. It's given me the compassion to look at others through different eyes. May we all find the courage to befriend someone with "differences", someone who may just change our lives for the better as we accept them and grow into the person God wants us to become.

   http://www.amazon.com/Shadow-my-Fathers-Secret-ebook/dp/B00C50FKJE/ref=sr_1_5?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1365980927&sr=1-5&keywords=karen+malena

Our warm fuzzy friends

     Soft and cuddly, warm and friendly. This describes our furry friends, our pets. Dogs, cats, hamsters, even our feathered birds who sing in cages in our homes. How many of us throughout our lifetime bonded closely with animals who never asked for anything except to be loved, and well, of course. . . food!

     I think back to dogs we had when I was a little girl. Two fluffy companions, one aptly named Fluffy, the other, her sister, Buffy. How I'd longed for these dogs to love me, sleep with me at night when the childhood fears fell upon me. They never did. It was my mother they bonded with. She, who'd fed them, loved and cared for them. I think they would have gone to the ends of the earth and back again for Mom.

     Several soft, furry cats graced our home through the years as well. One in particular, Jimmy, a gray striped tiger cat was a favorite of mine. Aptly named for his larger nose for Jimmy Durante, he of the famous schnoz. Another cat, coal black as the evening, appropriately named Midnight, frightened the living daylights out of me. He'd wait behind the hedges bordering our small front yard and spring out, claws extended whenever someone would walk by.
     When I'd grown into adulthood, I brought two other black cats into my home. They'd walked the neighborhood, scrawny and mewling for food, when I begged my husband to let them stay with us. You could tell they were of the same litter for their markings on their bellies, and we named them, Kitty #1 and Kitty #2. Well, let me tell you the reason for this: when we'd call, "Here, kitty, kitty," they always came running. I know, not very clever, but it worked.

     Kitty #2 was my companion for many years until three years ago when she succumbed to a tumor in her stomach. This beloved friend of mine, who was more like a dog, followed me around my house, sitting as near to me as possible, and never keeping me out of her sight. When I'd put my coat on to leave for the day, she'd look into my face, eyes filled with apprehension, but upon my return in the evening, she'd greet me with her sloppy, wet love.

     I now have two cats once again, a brother and sister, Bella and Rocco, two very hairy felines whose antics never cease to amaze my husband and I, as they drink water from the bathtub, one of them down inside the tub, the other perched precariously upon the edge.

     My son has a cat he famously named 'Piggy' for her portly size. Piggy has become somewhat of an icon, for she has her own YouTube following and Facebook page. I think the reason for her success lies in something we all long for. The comfort and companionship of a furry friend. The whimsical tales we tell one another of the crazy things our pets do. This is something which bonds us as human beings, for we can laugh with one another, share our own "tails" and come away just a little bit happier.


Buy my book Piggy, The Adventures of A Not So Ordinary Cat at Amazon::

 http://www.amazon.com/Piggy-The-Not-Ordinary-ebook/dp/B00C3L3GO6/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1365980927&sr=1-1&keywords=karen+malena

Success

I just wrote a quick blurb on Facebook about what defines success. To one person, it's money or power. to another, it may be looks or status. What about things? Having everything you thought you'd ever want, then you'll be happy.

Success is looking back over your life and feeling a sense of accomplishment. You may not be "there" yet, wherever that might be, but I know you're not where you were a year ago.We've all grown, all come so far  and shaken off old habits, old fears and failures.

Take me for instance. I've changed so much in the last ten years it's unbelievable.  Thinking back even longer, I shake my head at who I once was.

I know I've made mistakes in raising my children, mistakes in my love life at times. I've handled many situations poorly and hurt others. Thankfully, God's grace is sufficient every day for me. I don't have to be "good enough" or try to attain perfection. Only He is perfect. But thankfully, He loves me so...

Driving home from visiting my family today, a feeling of peace and God's love overwhelmed me. I began to cry from happiness and a sense of who I am in the world. I matter. You matter.

I want to make a difference in this world. I want to leave an imprint for future generations. If it's in a kind word, a smile, a small deed done in secret to bless another, even my writings, my books.

Let's do it together, you and I. Let's make each day count and not let another minute go by. A precious minute to be the encouragement another person may need just at the right time and place.

You are special, you are loved. So am I. Now that my friends, is success!

Buy my heartfelt novel on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Shadow-my-Fathers-Secret-ebook/dp/B00C50FKJE/ref=sr_1_5?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1366058893&sr=1-5&keywords=karen+malena