Mary's Vine To Open Friday

There is a famous movie quote "If you build it they will come." That has sort of been the philosophy of the family behind Mary's Vine - a wine lounge set to open in the former Visitation of Blessed Virgin Mary Church in Rankin. The dream began in November of 2017 and now, in just a few days, the Stasinowsky/Smith family will be welcoming their first customers.

"Pittsburgh is ready for this," says Cheryl Stasinowsky, project overseer and chief executive officer of Fine Wine Cru, LLC, who along with her husband, Wally, have been navigating an uncharted path, along with their son, Jordan, and daughter, Amber Smith, and son-in-law, Daniel, to make their dream come true.

This dream has come with high risk. Four family members uprooted their lives in California to make a new life in Pennsylvania. (Jordan had already been a resident of the Burgh working as a financial advisor for PNC Investments.) The dream also meant putting every penny they had into the mission of giving this former Croatian Catholic church a new purpose and making it, once again, a destination where memories could be made.

"We are trying to do things that are just out of the ordinary for Pittsburgh. It doesn't mean that what Pittsburgh does isn't good. We have to be different to get them out here," explains Cheryl, who says her family just really wants people to enjoy wine.  This desire will be felt from the minute a person arrives at Mary's Vine. From the valet experience to the first glimpse of the lounge through the clear glass doors, people will feel like something special is about to happen.

Jordan Stasinowsky has been the driving force behind making wine accessible to every level of wine enthusiast and at every budget. He is a certified specialist of wine and is currently studying to be a Level 2 sommelier.  He, along with the rest of his family, have tried thousands of wines over the past eight months, 2200 to be exact, to find the perfect vintages to offer at Mary's Vine.

There will be just over 70 wines by the glass and 350 different bottles, which have not only been Stasinowsky approved, but also come recommended by people across the world who drink wine, not manufacture it. Jordan is currently working with eight suppliers to allow Pittsburghers a passport free trip to vineyards around the world.

"He is going to do flights. You can try a Merlot from California. You can try a Merlot from France, and you can try a Merlot from Chile, so you can try the same wine variety from different countries and see what the difference is," says Cheryl. 

But the Mary's Vine experience will also include the use of a customized app, developed by Jordan and his brother-in-law Daniel,  that will allow even the most sheltered wine drinker the chance to try something new, based on their answers to a couple of questions. The app will guide the user to chose a particular vintage and that bottle will be brought to the table, poured in person, and tasted by the consumer before an entire glass is poured. A variety of cocktails and other beverages will also be available for purchase. 

Wine by the glass will run from $10 to a higher end $30 to $40. There will also be the option to try a glass of champagne, which is normally not something a wine lounge can offer, but the Rankin venue will utilize state of the art vacuum seal technology that aids in the preservation of wine remaining in an opened bottle.

Once you select your wine, the next step will be choosing what to eat. The Mary's Vine menu has just been perfected thanks to the addition of Executive Chef Alexander Fitz, a Mount Lebanon native, who has a background in rustic Italian cuisine. Fitz most recently worked for Common Plea catering where he did really upscale and large events at the Heinz History Center and Heinz Hall.

"I've always been about good food and the fact that it can be pretty simplistic and still very elegant and taste very good," explains Fitz, who understands his food will work to complement the wine Jordan has selected and help elevate the Mary's Vine experience. The menu will include items like sliders and flatbreads, fondues and charcuterie boards, prepared by a cheese monger, featuring cheeses you can't get in Pittsburgh.  But there will also be meal selections that will appease each palette and price point.

Fitz says, "It's neat and challenging for me because of what they want to do with it bringing in these wines from different regions around the world and trying to match cuisines with it. Eventually, they are going to get to a part of the earth I'm not familiar with so I'll have to do some research."

The final inspections have been completed at Mary's Vine -  everything from the handicapped ramp to plumbing to food services. The Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board inspection allowed for the delivery of more than 4,000 bottles of wine in a short span of time. Now the team is putting the rest of the puzzle pieces together that will lead to a soft opening this week, for financers, laborers and local officials - a trial run before the official opening on Friday, August 30.

Social media has played a large role in getting the word out about the Stasinowsky/Smith project. Frequent updates on their Facebook page have illustrated, step by step, how the wine lounge has taken shape. A recent post featured a time lapse video of the flooring being installed. The interest sparked through the unique church transformation leads Cheryl and the Mary's Vine team to believe, with seating available for 97, people will have to be patient.

"There will be a wait probably for the first 6 months. When we post something there are 8,000 people that view it. It's a good problem to have."

There will be live jazz five nights a week featuring local musicians and the first 3 months are already booked. For people who come to check out Mary's Vine, a front covered patio will allow parties to enjoy a glass of wine while they wait to be seated. The valet parking lot is taking shape - where the Mary's Vine experience will begin.

"You'll greet an owner at parking. You'll greet an owner at the hostess. I am working the red wine station. We are all working it," explains Cheryl, who adds that Jordan will float around assisting servers, when needed, and making himself available to share. with others, his knowledge and passion about wine.

And as Chef Fitz will tell you, he's already picked up on the family's determination, even in the short time he has been part of the team. "There is no accepting anything but seeing this work."

That Senior Feeling

By the time you are reading this, I will probably be on my second box of tissues.

Today, August 22 is the last first day of school for my oldest child. I remember finding out, when he started kindergarten, he would be in the class of 2020. It seemed light years away. So far down the road. When he was in first grade, he and members of his future graduating class walked across the football field as part of the homecoming football game festivities. Two kids stood on either side of a banner that read, Baby Wildcats Class of 2020.

His high school senior year was always so far down the road until, it wasn't. When he was a sophomore, I thought, "Oh, that's two years away." Then when he was a junior, it was getting eerily close, but it was still a year away. Now - there is no where to run or hide. It is here and it doesn't take much for waterworks to flow.

I am not really sure the exact reason I cry. He is my first graduate-to-be so I am sure that plays a part. There is also the age factor. "I can't possibly be old enough to have a child that is going to be finishing high school." Then there is the diminishing mom role. "He isn't going to need me anymore."

Yes, I sound like a lady that has a lot of issues but please, cut me some slack. I've never done this before. I want to be happy about this year of lasts but I'm an emotional kind of gal.

I've got a tear reserve that you wouldn't believe. I cried so hard after seeing the blockbuster movie Titanic you would have thought I knew Jack and Rose personally. I cry during animated movies, Hallmark commercials and a song on the radio can trigger a double tissue moment. (My husband is a lucky guy, right?)

I know I'm not alone right now.  It's not like I have a kid who is going to Mars. Other parents have been through this and many more will go through it after me. But just when I think I've got a handle on things, something triggers my reserve. A letter from the school - your deposit for your cap and gown is due. A Facebook post about the band senior banner pictures. Picking out a shirt for his last first day of school. Ugh....

So yes, today is going to be tough. But I am going to have to put together a strategy to survive the next ten months. I'll be asking around to see how others made it through but apparently, I need to focus on the realities which have been clouded by the emotions.

 1. My son will still need me - let's face it. He doesn't have his license yet. He doesn't cook real well and knowing where things are - not his strong suit.

 2. He has worked hard. He deserves to see where this year will take him. I tried to talk him out of calculus and into an easier class but he didn't want to hear it. That says something. Who knows what choices he'll make that will result in a door opening for him. It's like waiting to find out what new shows/movies will drop on Netflix at the start of a new month. Stay tuned.

 3. Yeah, I miss his baby days but now, the house smells a lot better and I can actually understand what he is saying. He knows how to make me laugh and that is a gift worth its weight in gold.

4. No one wants to stay in high school forever. I couldn't wait to graduate and start fresh and reinvent myself. My son will soon get to do that and there is no better feeling when you've been stuck in the same hamster wheel for 12 years.

So as we keep moving forward, I'll try to cry less. (No one likes a downer.) I want to try to celebrate the happiness in all we've experienced, and in all the memorable experiences awaiting us this year. As Dr. Seuss or Harvey Mackay once stated, "Nobody said it’d be easy, they just promised it would most likely be worth it.”

First day of 3rd grade

A Devastating Loss

In the 44 years I've been alive, gun violence has not affected me personally.

Until last weekend.

This is a bit surprising since I frequent one of the most dangerous cities in the country a couple times a week. The National Council for Home Safety and Security lists McKeesport as number 4 on their list based on recent shooting statistics.

I grew up in McKeesport and my parents still live there. On Saturday, a gun shot victim was found in a garage I used to walk past each Tuesday when I took piano lessons back in the early 80s.

Even though this fatal shooting happened in a place I can visualize and am familiar with, the victim was unknown to me. But just hours earlier, in a nearby community, there was another shooting. This one happened in a place I am not familiar with, but the victim - I knew. In fact, he recently left me a few voicemails regarding a suggestion for a possible newspaper article.

I am not going to pretend I knew Rev. Sheldon Stoudemire very well. In fact, since we met back in 2015, I've probably talked to him less than ten times. But replaying his phone messages, this past weekend, brought tears to my eyes. He called me Kris, which is typically done by family, he thanked me for my hard work and ended the call with God Bless You.

For those of you who did not know him, Rev.  Stoudemire started his street ministry in 1993. He worked within communities of Allegheny County when things got rough.

 "I go where the homeless are at, I go where the drug dealers are at, where the gang members are at, where the disinherited are at," said Stoudemire during a recent interview.

He was an ordained Baptist minister but his credentials went further than that. He was an author, boxer, army ranger, and a graduate of the FBI Citizens' Academy. He had been involved with Mad Dads (Men Against Destruction, Defending Against Drugs and Social Disorder) street patrols, volunteering at the Salvation Army in Braddock, and teaching anti-bullying classes.

As I tried to make sence of him losing his life to the kind of violence he tried to prevent, I said to my husband, "This is such a devastating loss to the community." My husband said, "Every loss of life is a loss to the community."

Rev. Stoudemire was a person who sought out the forsaken, those written off by others, those deemed a menace to society. It takes a special kind of person to do that. He was trying to make a difference in ways that often went under the radar and for what? For this to happen? To have his mission cut short at age 57? I am sorry, but this just doesn't make sense. Why him? Why now?

Working in the news business, I've become desensitized to the shootings, the violence, the death. You almost have to to be able to do the job. I have spoken with mothers who have lost sons and daughters, men who have lost brothers and sisters, teens who have lost siblings. Rev. Stoudemire was out there trying to prevent another person from experiencing the unfathomable loss these people have endured and in doing so, sacrificed his own life.

Being a practicing Catholic, I took some time to talk to God. As a person of faith, I was taught to believe everything happens for a reason, at its right time and for a greater purpose but I said, "I'm sorry, God, I think we needed the Reverend here."

I replayed in my head the last time I saw Rev. Stoudemire. It was at his boxing studio in Homestead. I recall taking his photo for the Braddock mayoral candidate article I was writing at the time and agreeing to eventually do a story on the kids that come to the E. 9th Avenue gym. I was in a hurry that morning as we were going to press before noon. I feel badly looking back that I was rushed to get on my way. But how was I to know that would be the last time we would speak in person?

Social media was lit up over the weekend with stories from people who have been touched by Rev. Stoudemire. People, who like me, were trying to make sense of it all. Just trying to process. But some, while grieving, talked about moving forward. The 'what do we do now?'

One person wrote, "We can't give up."

And that part is true. All Rev. Stoudemire's hard work cannot be in vain. But whatever happens next, it seems like there will be one more guardian angel that has joined the fight. And who knows, that angel, added to the many others, may be just what was needed to help guide the work that needs to be done within our communities and in our hometowns.
,
God bless you, Rev. Stoudemire.

It's A Twister!

I did something last week I almost never do.

I bought something I did not need. I bought something just for the fun of it. Just for the thrill of it. 

I made an impulse buy!

Let's back up by stating when it comes to shopping for myself - I don't. I am not sure the explanation for this because at one time I loved to shop. 

Back in my teen years, early twenties, I loved taking my babysitting/paper route money to Century III Mall, blowing it on a new vest from Deb, earrings from Claire's, a new cassette tape from National Record Mart and a hot fudge sundae from Dairy Queen. 

I even put a new winter coat on layaway one year at Kmart - the one that recently closed in North Versailles. It took me a few months to pay off that baby but I could not have been prouder to wear the turquoise/black coat with shoulder pads, matching scarf - topped off with my black Debbie Gibson hat. 

Although I made frequent purchases, I rarely bought anything that was not on sale. I inherited my mom's frugal nature and it pained me to pay full price. I was raised with flea market and thrift store shoppin' skills so I learned early on just how far a dollar should go. 

I think I got away from self shopping because I have others to shop for. Three kids and one large kid (husband) equals little time for personal buys. Every now and then I'll get a pair of jeans, like I did a few months ago through Amazon or the beach wardrobe I bought at the American Thrift Center in West Mifflin. Four pair of shorts, including Under Armour and Adidas, and two tank tops $11.00.

 Yes, sir! The price was right that day. It would have been cheaper if I had swallowed my pride and accepted the senior discount the cashier tried to give me. LOL!

Anyway...the other day I went to the local vacuum store to buy the special bags I need for my machine. As I was paying for them, I caught sight of a oval shaped appliance on the counter that was filled with water and made a swishing sound. 

As I looked at it closely, I noticed what looked like a mini tornado (plastic funnel) in the center. I said to the man ringing up my purchase, "What it that?" He said it was an air purifier called a Twister. It takes air in, cleans it and then sends it back out. You could add a fragrance too, if you'd like. 

I said, "Wow! I think I need one of these." Now keep in mind, I'm almost two months into summer vacation. Kids are everywhere. Mess is everywhere. Life is in total chaos. I haven't been alone in my house since May 29th. The calming sound of swishing water around a tornado? Heck, it's a metaphor for my life. The salesman went on to say, "Yeah, and they are actually on sale right now."

The price was reasonable in terms of my standards. Under $40? I'm worth it. Besides, my birthday is coming up. But then I found out there were only three left. THREE LEFT!!

I was in a hurry that day and had to go but the thoughts of my own personal air purifying tornado stuck with me throughout the day. Plus, with my weather fascination, this little machine had my name written all over it. But I had to wrap my head around this unnecessary purchase that for some reason seemed so necessary. 

The very next day, I dragged my husband to the vacuum store and what do you know? There were now only TWO LEFT!!! I quickly snatched a box from the shelf, put it on the counter and I said, "I'll take it!" You would have thought I was holding a box of gold the way I pranced out of the store singing 'Happy Birthday' to me. 

Later that day, my daughter offered to set it up for me by filling it with water and plugging it in. The LED light display gently illuminated our own personal twister in our dining room and the swooshing sound created a false sense of calm. The kids ooohed and awwed as they were hypnotized by the colors and moving water.

I've since moved it into my bedroom and have been able to sleep with it on at night. I don't know if the air is cleaner, I didn't buy it for that, but it is calming to watch and hear. I'm sure there will come a day when the allure of my little Twister will wear off but for right now there is no place like home!

Magic Yarn Project Warms Heads and Hearts

There is nothing more magical for a little kid than to dress up as their favorite Disney princess or superhero. But for some special little ones, an illness prevents them from really getting into character. This is where the Magic Yarn Project comes into play.

The non-profit organization is based out of Palmer, Alaska and was started by two pediatric nurses. What began as a handful of Rapunzel wigs delivered to a local children's hospital has blossomed into 18,000 wigs that have been distributed across North America and Europe in the past three years.

Jessica Ash is the Pennsylvania Chapter Leader and found out about the project through social media last October. She contacted the organization to see how she could get involved and had to submit some of her crochet work, and write an essay detailing her skills, experience with kids and why she would be a good leader.

"After our interview, I guess they saw my passion for it," explains Ash, who says there was a lot of competition for the chapter leader position, and was delighted to be chosen.

The project is special to Ash not only because it allows her to utilize her talents, but because of what she has seen first hand. After her cousin was diagnosed with lymphoblastic leukemia she spent a lot of time at Children's Hospital and saw these little kids going through tough treatments and needing some extra love.

"Unfortunately, there is a need. We wish there wasn't. But when they get these wigs they put them on and they just get this smile and they twirl and they are on top of the world and that is why we do it."

There are a variety of Disney character wigs that are made along with superhero beanies. Ash handles the complicated parts, making the actual headpieces and accessories out of yarn, perfect for sensitive scalps. Workshops are held twice a month at Lincoln Place Presbyterian Church to help assemble the wigs and for this part, you don't need to be skilled in the art of crocheting.

Family friend Kathy Schaming wanted to help Ash from the moment she found out about the project.

"When she showed it to me I started crying and I said, 'Ok, put me in there.'"

Schaming did not know how to crochet but has been able to learn how to attach the yarn, for the hair, and the bedazzled accessories thanks to Ash's patient teaching style. A group of 10 to 12 volunteers come together at each workshop to complete the wigs of the designated character of the day. At the June 8th workshop, Elsa, from the movie Frozen, was the princess of the day.

The wigs are made under the watchful eye of the Disney corporation, Ash explains. "Everything is made in their image as far as what Disney has trademarked. We get as close to the princess as possible."

Currently, the group is preparing a shipment of wigs to be distributed at PNC Park for the Pirates' Pediatric Cancer Night scheduled in September. They will be given to children who have been diagnosed with cancer, alopecia or have some type of head deformity.

More workshops are scheduled through the summer months and help is needed. The jobs go beyond making the wig. Volunteers can help assemble the accessories, package the wigs and even write personalized cards, letting the kids know who made the wig as well as offering words of encouragement.

The project is 100% volunteer and donation driven. Anyone who donates money or material, it all goes toward making wigs that are distributed locally and once that need is met,  other organizations across the country are contacted. Ash says if anyone knows of a local organization that offers support to patients and would be interested in tapping in to the project they can reach out to her through email: JessicaA@themagicyarnproject.com or check out their website: themagicyarnproject.com

Somewhere Under The Rainbow

I blame Tom Hanks for my romantic delusions.

I guess I should include Meg Ryan too, if I am going to point fingers. After watching 'You've Got Mail' and 'Sleepless In Seattle' countless times yes, I believe in "Magic."

But real, not movie, magic is probably what is needed to make my dream come true - my dream of finding my silver wedding band.

I have written about this before. The sad tale of a girl who, along with her husband,  boarded an ocean kayak only to be hit by a sudden wave. The wave knocked both occupants out of the vessel and, as I fell beneath the water, I felt my band slip off my finger. It was gone. Lost in the depths of the blue/green water.

Even though it was 18 years ago, I never really gave up hope that one day it might return to me. Yes, a bit unrealistic I admit. But if Tom Hanks could find the love of his life across the country, I could find my ring washed up on the beach.

My tale becomes a little more plausible when I tell you we often return to the same beach each year. We may not be at the same house, but we've stayed pretty close. Each vacation, I take walks up and down the beach - hoping some silvery glimmer will catch my eye and close this unfinished chapter in my life.

The wedding band was my mother's so to me it is irreplaceable, but she even admits my hope in finding it is a little far fetched. As a little girl I remember seeing that plain thick band on her finger or laying on the counter when she was making meatloaf and thinking there was not a finer ring in the land. I still feel that way although I've always wanted a replica of Princess Diana's sapphire engagement ring. But, I digress.

While we were away last week, again it was my mission to find my ring. I took walks each morning and even spoke with a nice gentleman with a metal detector. We were far from where I actually lost my ring, so I didn't have hopes that he would find it, but he did regale me with stories of the items he has found.

Oh, that my story would have a similar ending.

At the end of our conversation he actually said something quite profound to me. "My good day is someone's bad day." But that sentiment changes if he is able to reunite someone with their lost item, which he did recently with a set of car keys.

The second to last day of our trip, a pretty hefty storm blew through. It was dark and nasty. The waves were really crashing and it was terribly windy. But after the storm, there was a lovely rainbow. As I admired the colors and took photos, it seemed like the rainbow's end was just over the area where we had stayed 18 years ago. I thought maybe, just maybe, the storm liberated my ring from the depths of the ocean and washed it ashore. And, as if Nora Ephron was directing me herself, I was off on a journey.

The walk down the beach was pleasant at first - still following the rainbow's glow. But at some point I realized I had a long way to go and at that moment I was already committed, so there was no giving up. I began hallucinating at one point and thought I actually saw Tom Hanks who I imagined would speak to me softly and say the words I wanted to hear "Kristen, are you looking for this?"

My sweet husband, back at the beach house knew I was in over my head and brought the car down the road. Once he parked, we met up close to the exact spot of infamy and briefly looked together for my lost jewelry.

To be honest, I really didn't look that hard when we got there. Something happened to me during what turned out to be a 2 mile walk. (Besides losing feeling in my legs.) I realized, finally, that my ring was gone for good. I let it go just like Elsa from the movie Frozen sang. I let it go and was actually at peace. I wasn't going to look in the sand anymore. I wasn't going to hold out hope that one day the ring would reside on my finger. I LET IT GO and it felt good.

I've been married almost 20 years and at this point no hardware is needed. Don't get me wrong - if I find a 14K Artcarved white gold band on Ebay, reasonably priced, this girl is getting it, but the things I have accumulated during the past two decades are worth more than the ring I lost. I have lots of great beach memories, which outweigh the one dark day. And as I wrote before, with my ring sitting comfortably beneath the waves, part of me will always be at the beach and all I have to do is close my eyes to return to the place I love the most.

A Plague of Our Own

Where are the cicadas?

I mean yeah, I've seen video on the 6 o'clock news of people in Sewickley, Fawn Township and Murrysville dealing with the pesky creatures. But at my home, a little further south, not a wide eyed bug around.

Now don't get me wrong. I am not complaining! I didn't want to see them face to face. But after all the hype for weeks leading up to this? The cicadas are coming! The cicadas are coming! Team coverage at 6. I feel a little left out. I don't remember anyone saying there may be some here, there may be some there but you will not find them everywhere.  (Major Dr. Seuss vibe there.)

I even saw the video of a TV reporter "eating" one. You may have seen it too and I have my doubts. It happened so fast. The reporter, John Shumway from KDKA-TV, had one on his hand and popped it in his mouth. Yuck! Not on my hungriest day would I eat a bug. Not covered in cheese. Not covered in chocolate and not even with a side of Heinz, mind you, ketchup.

Funny thing is I never heard about cicadas until 2004. My oldest was two and we were driving from our home in Virginia to my brother's place in Maryland. Prior to this trip, I had seen a few around our neighborhood, due to the emergence of Brood X, but nothing major. While stuck in traffic, on I-95, things got biblical. I mean cicadas were bouncing off the windows buzzing around. There was a swarm enveloping the vehicle. It was scary. Here I was, a new mommy, and I was wondering if these flying nuisances would be able to get in the car through the vents and harm my baby.

Luckily, once traffic started moving, we left the swarm behind us, never to see a cicada again. Until now. And this time, only on TV.

It is funny that my son was born during a cicada year and, every 17 years, he will celebrate this weird little ritual of them emerging to find a mate. The next time this will happen he'll be 34 and I'll be, well, that's a little too much math for today.

I've always kind of admired people who got excited about bugs. I mean there are so many different kinds, with different features and purposes. It really is fascinating. But once they start moving or flying my fascination ends. Not so fast bug, this is my house and you and your creepy ways aren't welcome.

The other morning one of those ridiculous thousand leggers was spotted on my daughter's wall. Now, over the years, I have become more respectful of creepy crawlies, stink bugs and 'piders', as my former college roommate's baby cousin used to call them. I have begun capturing them and releasing them outdoors. "Carpe diem, Bug!"

This is a huge development for a girl who used to command her younger brother to "KILL IT!" when an invader crossed her path while riding her Hot Wheels bike.  But for those fast moving centipedes, there is no way to capture them first. They are too fast and I just envision one getting on me and then I'll die instantly.

My daughter was in a panic and I said, "Just close your door until dad gets home." But she was running late for school and needed to gather the rest of her things. It was do or die time. I took this as a teachable moment to show my daughter what "Girl power" is all about.

"I got this," I thought to myself, hesitantly. So I grabbed my husband's shoe and went it for the kill. I may have told her she owed me big time. I don't remember. Heck, I hadn't even had coffee yet. 

First, I stared it down. Then we exchanged a few words, probably something like, "You've messed with the wrong middle aged lady thousand legger" and then, as I uttered my best kiai - martial arts yell that contracts the diaphragm and chest and allows you to put tons of energy behind the strike, helping to focus on the moment of impact - and boom, it was smooshed to bits.

My daughter thanked me and was able to get out the door on time.

Now back to the cicadas. I guess the season is winding down and we will all be able to return to our regular lives. But until then, I am keeping my eyes peeled, just to be prepared to run for cover if I see one. I am happy I do not live in the epicenter for the current invasion. The car ride I took 17-years-ago, exposed me enough for a lifetime.