Reading, writing...that's what I do.

SONGS of My Life

Music!!  It is part my me, part of my family heritage. 

My mother sang in the choir at St. Barnabas in Beverly Hills, Chicago. Her sister, my aunt Lucia Rausch, was the choir director and to my older brother John (who spent hours listening to Wager operas in our dining room and waving a baton to conduct the music)…this was not new to our family.  

Music calms as well as inspires. In my last post I wrote about swinging and singing… would you like to know what I was singing? Well in that early time it was:  I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No….I’m in a terrible fix. I always say come on let’s go, just when I ought to say nix. From the musical comedy, OKLAHOMA. 

Readers today probably only know MY FAIR LADY, MUSIC MAN, CINDERELLA, SOUND OF MUSIC etc because your children or grandchildren are once again presenting these wonderful shows. 

As each one appeared on broadway, my aunts bought the record and very soon I learned all the lyrics and sang them from my swing. (see last week’s post) 

I did not get the winks or laughter from the adults when I say some of those lyrics…but I will always be grateful that they were mature and didn’t create some silly rule that would limit sexuality in songs. My mother referred to some of that culture when we did talk about sex. 

And she always said…LOVE MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND. I used that with my own children, before realizing it was time to talk about sex. In our society today, they often know a lot, though in a confusing and unclear way. And sex has always been part of song…raunchy, tender, angry, sorrowful, it’s all there. 

If you son or daughter is belting out a current pop hit…you might stop and ask them what the song means. They might know the details and again, they might not know. Terminology changes. Ways to describe having SEX cannot be counted. 

It is always part of the challenge of parenting, especially when they act like they know EVERYTHING there is to know about SEX. But I guarantee, they do not. 

Thanks for reading. 

Sweet Baby James, Fire and Rain, Mean Old Man, Sweet Caroline, October Road, God Have Mercy ON Us,

POPE LEO: Our First Pope from the US is a STRONG Truth Teller

Robert Prevost was born on September 14, 1955, in Chicago, and raised in the nearby suburb of Dolton, Illinois. Now known to the world as POPE LEO, he is the first pope to have been born in America, and we American Catholics are not only amazed at his election, but  we are also excited about his vision and his voice. I don’t think Catholics ever thought there would be a pope from the US, and yet if we ever did, surely he would have been born and raised in New York City, Washington D.C or San Francisco, CA. But prayer and blessings make more sense in this context: Leo is from Dalton, a small town on the SOUTH SIDE of Chicago, where I was raised …not the North Side, and yes, Leo is super educated! 

Pope Francis speaks English, is fluent in Spanish, converses well in Italian and can carry on a conversation in Portuguese, French, German and Ukrainian. He also has a functional knowledge of Latin, the official language of the Holy See, and can read Greek and Hebrew. I took Latin in high school and French in college. At our Catholic Mass, I understand those parts that still use Latin…because I have heard them thousands of times. As for my French, I now can say a few sentences, like: Je suis libre jusqu’à trois heures…which means….I am free until three o’clock. Not very impressive. 

A TRULY MODERN POPE

And if you believe in God, or even in karma, surely Pope Leo came to us just at the right time…He takes on trump. Based on April 2026 reports, Leo has engaged in a sharp standoff with U.S. President, calling his actions “unjust” and criticizing the “absurd and inhuman violence” of the U.S.-Iran conflict. Leo stated he has “no fear” of the Trump administration, vowed to continue preaching peace, and warned against those who “manipulate religion… for their own military, economic and political gain”.

Why 2 Of My Life Decisions Got a Head Start in Biology Class

Sister Natalia was a small woman, but she had fire in her when it came to science. Her class was a requirement, the basics of biology, and wow was she fantastic in creating interest in that subject.

I can still picture her, almost lost behind her desk…and I can almost hear her voice, soft, not always clear and strong..but when you realized how smart she was, how fascinating the content she was imparting…you didn’t want to miss a word. At least, I didn’t.

Natalia taught sophomore Longwood Academy students basic science information. But later, when I looked back, I realized she was giving us information that was way beyond the basics. She was challenging us to  want more. It was a time that even though I was only sixteen, I was learning how to make decisions, to understand that every day moves you forward, molds you into who you are and who you will become.

In the second semester of her class, Natalia gave us a very difficult assignment: research, then write a paper about something new that was happening in a scientific field. To do so: Read and read some more. Do careful research, then write a paper concerning what you have learned.

She probably gave our class at least a month or longer to complete the assignment, because for me it required a train trip into Chicago to do research at the Chicago Public Library on Michigan Avenue. A friend and I took the Rock Island into the city, found the library, found a librarian who gave us information as to where we might access materials to satisfy our assignment.

Ironically and like a miracle, Life Magazine had been featuring a continuing series of articles about THE HUMAN BODY, with incomparable illustrations ie: How Your Body Converts Food to Fuel, (To Start, Your Teeth at Work); Fueling Teamwork by the Liver, Heart and Lungs. AND so much more: info about your Stomach, Back, Feet Bones, Muscles and Joints: how they work and what can go wrong. 

I was enthralled, took copious notes…and when Natalia lectured…please, keep talking! I love learning all of this. I’ll save my notes. This is fascinating. And so years later those notes helped me choose my second career: I studied much of this same  information when becoming a Maternity RN. 

And that other life decision?

One normal day in Natalia’s class, a note was passed to me. I don’t remember if it was just folded or in an envelope. And it will always be possible that others in class read it before I did, because I was in the back of the classroom, and the note writer, she was in the front when the note came to me. It read: You can have him, you Bitch.  

I did not save the note. And I don’t remember if soon after reading it I tore it up.

I did get the MESSAGE.

I knew this handsome guy had liked this person, and she had liked him. BUT WE WERE ALL SO YOUNG. We were in high school! No permanent plans had been made, each of us learning about one another, each of us growing, figuring out WHO WE WERE. And yes, she was angry, and yes he had become interested in me.

Did I make some big decision in biology class? No, but who we grow to love has to start sometime, and for me it was beginning, life carrying us along as our common interests and likes matured into love…a love that led to bigger, more serious decisions. I like to wonder if years later Sister Natalia would have approved my becoming a teacher and than an RN. And as for the handsome guy, you guessed right, I married him, my life being a wonderful journey because of our love and that subsequent decision. And once again, thanks for reading.

First photo: an artists conception of the Mitochondrion, the powerhouse of the cell. (Life Magazine) Second Photo: Longwood Academy students. 

KING CHARLES VISITS the US

I have written before about growing up, reading books about kings and queens….actually reading about history.

THAT IS NOT A BAD THING. My family also got a daily newspaper, and as is the way with headlines, when Queen Elizabeth stepped off the Brittanica Ship, which had dropped anchor near Buckingham Fountain….I developed a major interest in the Royal Family, and always regretted that no one took me downtown to see the queen in person. But there were photos and books, and thus began my interest in the Windsors. And my mother, who was also an anglophile, purchased an amazing hardcover book with beautiful photos of the queen, one of the best Christmas presents I ever received.

Thus began my journey to read about Elizabeth the Second, then Elizabeth the First and all things royal. That was a good thing. I became interested in English history, the struggle of Catholics and the English Church…King Henry the Eighth etc. While others were reading Nancy Drew, this was my go to reading adventure…also Little Women and all books written by Louisa May Alcott. My intense childish love of royalty and the past enhanced my love of music, particularly Symphony No. Five in E Minor, Op.64 by Tchaikovsky. 

We had a record of this piece and in early days, and a record player that actually sat on the floor in our living room. I know which record to select and where to set the needle, so that I could find the end of the piece and play the ending. WHY? Because it has a marching feel, a royal feel, and when you are a child you can put on a cape and walk up and down your living room, the music so amazing and royal as you live out a small part of your dream. 

This week King Charles became better known to America and Americans. Many are saying that the speech he gave has eclipsed many of those of trump. That is a good thing, I believe. We need to look out on the global community and see them as friends, not enemies. We need to fine those things that unit us. We need to make THE WORLD a better place and not honor a man who want to be KING, when the United States of America decided many years ago…NO. NO KINGS for the US. 

THANKS  FOR READING.   

After My Father Died, I Spent Hours Doing This….

I was three when my father died. It was June, it was summer. In time, maybe in the fall and certainly the following spring, I spent hours on the swing that hung from the aging cherry tree in our backyard. Yes, back and forth, back and forth. Hypnotic. 

But truly, what does a child so young know about death? He or she learns about vacancy…I kept asking my mother WHERE DID MY DADDY GO? I kept wandering our home looking for him.  

And that is how I learned about loss…not just a doll or a toy, but a person I loved, someone who hugged me, sang to me. His voice, smell and touch were suddenly gone.

But the swing in my backyard was something I could do…on my own. The swing was a place to be. It was sunshine and movement…and it was singing. But it is only recently that I truly discovered or remembered from nursing school, that such an activity would provide a three-year old with a healing process.  

The back and forth movement of a swing provides powerful sensory input that calms, regulates and organizes the nervous system. It stimulates the vestibular system (inner ear) to improve balance, spatial awareness, and core strength, while the rhythmic motion promotes emotional regulation, reduces anxiety, and enhances focus. 

I don’t know for a fact that my sorrowing mother asked my pediatrician about this particular activity, but I do know that he told my mother to LET ME BE, not to force me to do things, to allow me to live…because in doing so, I was also healing, and now I know I had found a way that helped me do so. AMAZING. 

And if years ago I had put all of this together, with the science behind it, realized the documented physical and mental reasons…it would mean so much more. ( We probably covered this in nursing school….) 

But now it says to me that children KNOW what they need in a time crisis, and thus they find something to sooth them, get through that particular time of sorrow and confusion: a new baby; a new parent; a move, the loss of a friend. 

THE IRONY of this is not lost on any of us. We still have habits that we go to when we are angry, confused, or deeply sad. Many adults us alcohol. My mother was careful, limited herself. But as I grew, I watched adults and saw how alcohol could change them…and I did not like it. 

Why? Because I experienced too early in my life, that in order to feel safe, I needed to rely on the behavior of adults. My father should not have left me. Really! WHY DID HE DO THAT? 

It was a time when I found comfort in the things I could relay on: my mother and her steady love and care; my home and my brothers. My neighborhood. I think within me was this voice beating like a drum: no change, no change. You cannot tolerate change.

Final Thought: I am currently reworking a short non-fiction work I wrote years ago. It is the story of growing up in Chicago, in the Beverly neighborhood, in the house where my father died, where my mother raised the three of us. It is the story of how we grew and thrived. And in my next post I will share some of it with you. Thanks for reading, Beth