Black and Yellow

 

Never underestimate the power of a well selected wardrobe.

We are often judged by the clothing we wear and for a lot of people, aged 40 and over, not much thought goes into what we throw on. For me, it is often a choice of what is clean and what is comfy.

What happens when we don't put thought into what we are wearing could pose a bit of an inconvenience. For me, I have been known to wear t-shirts that feature my favorite band, The Beatles, from time to time. When I go to my local grocery store, I often encounter an employee who also likes that band, and we end up getting into a conversation about said group. If I am in a hurry, this can pose a challenge to keeping my trip short.

Some people welcome the conversation. My father for example is very proud of being from McKeesport. He has worn t-shirts featuring the town while we were away on various trips throughout the years. While some people would just say they are from outside of Pittsburgh, my dad goes through the entire story about McKeesport to whomever will listen. I have seen this happen in Florida, Virginia and North Carolina. He is a one-man PR representative wherever he goes.

 This past weekend, my husband and I went on a trip to Cleveland. It was a last-minute trip that did not involve much planning or packing for that matter. It was only a short two-day adventure so not much prep was needed before we left. I did not inspect the items my husband threw in the suitcase or give much thought to it when were getting ready for a breakfast adventure in a new town. To be honest, I didn't really look at him before we arrived at our destination.

"Go Steelers," the greeter said when we walked into the restaurant. This was the first tip off that something might be amiss.

"I can say that because we have a bye week," she concluded.

Once we sat down, I realized my husband was wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers sweatshirt. We were in Cleveland for goodness' sake. The home of the Cleve Brownies!

I was instantly embarrassed. I knew he didn't realize what he had done but I did notice the stares from other diners checking out our non-grata attire. I wanted to sink under the table but then I witnessed my husband enjoying his breakfast like he was back in the 'Burgh. It just didn't matter. Once he was done eating, we were going to take in some sights, but I told him he needed to inside out his sweatshirt so not to draw attention to ourselves.

He said "No." He explained he would not be upset if he saw someone in Pittsburgh wearing a Browns sweatshirt so why should he expect anything different.

Fair enough, I thought.

We didn't have any problems during our sightseeing tour. The next comment we got about his attire was actually in the parking lot of our hotel - from a fellow Steelers fan.

"Pittsburgh!" He yelled from his car.

I explained that my husband picked the wrong clothing for our trip to Cleveland. This guy said, " No! He picked just the right type of clothing," and mentioned he was also from Pittsburgh. He said the team had a long way to go but they were going to get there.

It was nice to enjoy that type of camaraderie after the stink eyes we got back at the diner.

Just when we thought we were in the clear, back on the road to go home, we stopped at the final toll booth before re-entering Pennsylvania. The man at the toll booth was pretty animated and was very conversational. Just as my husband handed over our ticket and money he said, "Hey pal, is it laundry day?" Implying the only reason he was wearing a Pittsburgh sweatshirt is because he had nothing else to wear.

It was all good fun and we had quite the laugh as we drove away.

I don't think of it much when I pick out my clothes each day, but I can tell you for sure, the next time we go to Cleveland we won't be packing any Pittsburgh themed attire.

 

Clothing can help strike up a conversation when you least expect it so if you are going out and want to avoid the unexpected interaction - pick a plain t-shirt.

 

*My blog is featured each week as the 'On My Mind' column in The Valley Mirror newspaper. The publication serves the Steel Valley and Woodland Hills communities.* 

 

The Golden Anniversary

My parents have officially been married for 50 years.

Today marks the 50th anniversary of the day they exchanged wedding vows in front of a justice of the peace back in 1973. It is fun to look through the wedding album my father's sister made for them as a keepsake. Seeing my mom and dad at ages 23 and 26...wow, those kids were stunning.

The thing that stands out in these photos, to me, is how happy they looked. My mom and dad look like they are living their best day. They had no idea what was in front of them but it didn't seem to matter. They had each other and that appeared to be all they needed.

 That duo would soon become a trio. I came along 17 months later. Followed by my brother and then, a surprise gift from God, my sister. We were a family of five by the time the 80s rolled around (my dad had a vanity plate for our car that read Bish 5) and who would guess that number would more than double by the time they would celebrate their fifth decade together. (Add five grandkids and two son-in laws.)

My parents taught me a lot about marriage. I knew from an early age that happily ever after is not a thing unless you put the work in. There is no way my parents could have known what was in store for them in the years ahead. Losing parents, losing best friends, fighting cancer - these two have seen a little bit of everything yet they never gave up on the one thing they started out with, each other.

Faith has played a large role in their marriage as well. It was thirteen years into their wedded union when they were finally able to get married in a church. Despite that fact, attending weekly mass and attending Catholic school was part of me and my siblings' stories. In our adult years, there isn't one family member that doesn't have a religious artifact in their car bestowed on them by either my mother or father to ensure our safety. 

 

 

Looking back on my younger days, it was no secret that us kids meant the most to this couple and I am very lucky to have the parents I was blessed with. It was just over a year after they were married that I arrived and I never got the impression they wanted more time to just be them. They were happy about having a baby and their joy overflowed with each addition. 

My mom was a stay at home mom for most of my childhood, taking her first full time job when I was in 9th grade. I had the cookies after school, the homecooked meals, the clean house when I came home from school.  They gave everything they had to make birthdays amazing, Christmases the thing of storybooks (except for the Cabbage Patch debacle of 1983  but my sister and I have since recovered) and instilling in us that anything is possible with hard work.

My father worked for the local water authority where he dedicated 35 years before retiring. There were holidays when he had to leave during dinner, nights when he didn't come home until after we were asleep, days where no matter the weather conditions he was outside repairing broken water lines. My siblings and I have no idea what his job was like at times but his paycheck afforded us the ability to live modestly in our McKeesport home with the occasional meal out on paydays.

Retired living has been the thing of dreams for my parents. Maybe not the dreams of traveling around the world and seeing the sights but traveling around the Pittsburgh area following the latest pursuits of their five grandchildren. From hockey to basketball, Tamburitzan shows and musicals, my parents try to catch whatever events are on the schedule each week. This is their passion. This is their reward.

I know how fortunate I am to have parents who are celebrating this milestone and while it isn't the celebration they were planning on, due to my mom's recent illness, there will be plenty of opportunities in the months ahead to get away and take pride in the beautiful family they have created and realize that sometimes when you start with a wing and a prayer you can reach the greatest heights. 

 

 

 

*My blog is featured as the On My Mind column in The Valley Mirror Newspaper each week. The publication covers the Steel Valley and Woodland Hills communities. *

" It's home. It sucks because it's home. It's horrible and disgusting but it's my cue to move. " -quote from a McKeesport resident after Monday's shooting

 

The corner of Grandview and Versailles avenue. Source: KDKA

 

 Hearts broke this week after two police officers were shot, one fatally, in McKeesport.  Despite the fact this kind of headline is not rare when we tune into the morning news, this one was different. This one took place at home. 

 When I say home, I mean the place where I grew up. The shooting occurred not far from the home my parents still occupy. 

The area (Grandview) is one I travel on a frequent basis and always have. I walked home from high school through Grandview. We ate fish dinners at a restaurant that was on the corner of Grandview Avenue. My family frequently stopped at the UniMart to pick up last minute items to and from visiting my grandmother who lived a short distance down the road. 

 Yes, there is familiarity there and a sense of propriety.  I have lived out of state and I currently live about ten minutes from my parents but McKeesport will always be home. 

 I thought it was hard when I was growing up having to defend myself when I met kids from other schools. Even thirty years ago, they would say in a snarky tone, "You're from McKeesport?" The ewww was silent. 

 In my adult years, I defend my hometown each summer leading up to International Village, the beloved annual ethnic food festival held at Renzie Park. Friends who live in nearby communities ask me, "Is it safe to go there?" I respond, "Yes, of course it is safe to go there."

 Gun violence is certainly on the rise in McKeesport.  In fact, the UniMart I mentioned earlier was the scene of a fatal shooting of a 16-year-old  back in December. 

There are sections of the city I try to avoid. But there are many sections of the city, other than Grandview, that I do frequent; the bike trail by the public safely building downtown, the walking trail in Renzie Park, the Aldi on Walnut Street. I am a frequent flier for sure. 

 But to be honest, McKeesport is not the only local community dealing with this uptick in crime. It is not the only community with so much good happening behind the tragic headlines. It is not the only community where people have lived their entire lives and refuse to leave because it is home. This once vibrant steel town has an amazing history and still could have an amazing future.

 My parents are lifers. My mom says she will never leave the place she brought her babies home to. My dad has to stay because of this reason. But my siblings and I do worry. The events on Monday hit a little too close to home. When details were just coming in, I called my parents to make sure everyone was ok. I told them not to go anywhere until we knew more information.

 I would be a liar if I didn't admit to noticing the decline of my parents' neighborhood. There are a lot of people moving in and out of the area. There is a lot of blight. While there are many residents who take pride in their homes and community, there is a growing number that do not. As much as my childhood home means to our family, nostagia does not trump safety. It is hard to wrap our heads around.

 But it seems we need to look at two important facts which have come to light about this recent shooting and neither of them involve location. The suspect in this shooting was a military veteran who was dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Conversations need to happen about the services that are provided for veterans when they return from serving our country and access to mental health care overall. The need is great not only in our area but nationwide.

 Currently, it can take months to get an appointment with a health care provider. Mental health care should not have that kind of wait time. As the child of a Vietnam veteran, I know first hand that help is needed. There are things my father has never shared with his children and even his wife. We cannot take for granted that when our servicemen and women return home they will magically ease back in to every day life. These are conversations we need to have with our loved ones and friends even if just to pick up the phone and ask, "Are you ok?"

 In honor of fallen officer Sean Sluganski let's do our part, the smallest thing we can possibly do, to care for each other. We can be part of the change - starting in our homes, workplaces and places of worship. Reach out to a veteran. Do it today.

 "Are you ok?" This could be the start of a lifesaving conversation.

 

*My blog is featured as the On My Mind column in The Valley Mirror Newspaper. The weekly publication serves the Woodland Hills and Steel Valley communities.  *

 

So Long Santa Shop

 

It is a unique collection of items I've gathered over the years.

From jewelry, to key chains to pet toys and socks - we have a bit of everything.  They were bought at the holiday Snowflake Shop. If you are unfamiliar with a Snowflake Shop maybe you have heard it referred to by another name, maybe Christmas Shop or Santa Shop. These annual boutiques are set up at schools so kids can have an opportunity, they might not have otherwise, to buy presents for their families.

When I was a kid attending Catholic school, it was called Christmas Shop, and I looked forward to it every year. To be honest with you, I don't remember any of the items I purchased for my family members but I remember one year when something very special happened. One of my classmates, a boy who I had had a crush on, bought me a necklace from the jewelry section. Getting that gift caused a variety of emotions in my pre-teen self. I was embarrassed by the attention, afraid of what my dad would say and thrilled that a boy got me a present for Christmas.

Who knew that necklace from years ago, would be the forerunner for many do-dads and trinkets I would receive while my kids were in elementary school. Christmas 2022 would mark the final holiday I would be receiving something from this unique December marketplace. My youngest will be going to the junior high school next year and will graduate to Walmart or Target shopping.

The Snowflake Shop has had a good run, but these past two years it has become more difficult for our little guy to find things for his older siblings. Many of the gift selections are geared toward smaller kids. A few years ago, it was funny to buy cute cat toys and gift them to his brother and sister but that joke has run its course. There was even the squealing yellow pig that made the worst oinking noise when you squeezed it. I eventually had to hide it to maintain my sanity.

Last year, I received a mug coaster that is pink and says Mom's Mug. I use it at work every day. I still have jewelry from my older kids that I wear from time to time. My oldest son bought me a bright orange earring/ chunky bracelet combo that I love because that is his favorite color. I had a heart key chain, my daughter bought me, that I had on my keys for years which just recently broke. One of my kids bought me a large "diamond" ring which I only wear on super special occasions. My husband has a variety of Steelers merchandise including an ice scraper and a pair of gloves.

Recently, the Parent Teacher Organization, which sponsors the Snowflake Shop, has upped their game with the selection of items available to buy. I never gave my kids money to shop for themselves but obviously things change with the youngest child. A few weeks ago, he purchased a nice Steelers tossle cap that he wears all the time. When he can buy something for himself he can actually use, I'm ok with that.

Along with the tossle cap, he also purchased gifts for my husband and I. At the age of 11, he was still so excited to be the first to put wrapped presents under the tree. He was so sweet about it and leading up to Christmas Eve he kept saying, "I can't believe my presents are the only ones here waiting to be opened."

Once he was done tearing though his gifts Christmas morning, he handed my husband and I our special gifts. He watched as we opened them, beaming with pride for his practical purchases - warm gloves for him, and cozy, dog slipper socks for her. It means so much that he picked these items out himself and it makes me happy they weren't just gifts for the sake of giving a gift. They have a purpose.

I didn't realize it until the next day that those would be our last holiday shop gifts. It makes me a little sad and nostalgic for the Christmases when my kids were little and the magic that goes along with the Santa years. 

But while I won't be getting dog socks or orange jewelry anymore, I did received some pretty thoughtful gifts from my older kids this year. My oldest got me a DVD of a movie based on one of our favorite books I read to him when he was little and my stylish daughter picked out a sweater and blouse to help update my wardrobe. I was touched by their gifts and it made me realize getting gifts from adult kids is kind of nice. Almost extravagant if you will.

In the meantime, I might dust off that diamond ring I got years ago. I think today is a special occasion.

 *This blog was published in The Valley Mirror Newspaper on December 29, 2022 in the On My Mind column. The Valley Mirror covers the Woodland Hills and Steel Valley communities.

The Long and Winding Royal Road

It was a simple text from my husband that alerted me to the news.

‘King Charles,’ it read.

 

I immediately knew what had happened.

 

I was at work and I immediately did a Google search. I saw the CNN headline “Queen Elizabeth Dies at 96”. I told my coworker then sat in shock for a moment. I couldn’t even process what was happening. So many thoughts were running through my head. I never knew a time before Queen Elizabeth and now there was a new king - a man who had been preparing for just this very moment for decades. 

 

As a long-time Anglophile, I have been watching the British royal family since I was a little girl. I liked fairy tales and I liked the idea of kings and queens, princes and princesses, crowns and castles. But the story of the House of Windsor was real as opposed to the make believe, happily ever after, Cinderella stories. But when I was little, I didn’t know all the drama that went on behind the scenes. (And were we ever in for a wild ride as the relationship between Charles and Diana unfolded over the years!)

 

As the afternoon of September 8th went on, I received texts and emails from my children, who knew I would take the news hard. It was thoughtful how they were looking out for me. I talked to my mom who is also a royal watcher. Her thoughts went straight to Camilla, Charles's wife of 17 years. What would her role be? Would we really have to call her queen?

It was hard for thoughts not to stray to what could have been. What if Charles and Diana could have stuck it out? What if Diana hadn’t died in that tragic car crash? What would it have been like at this moment for the world to have her as Great Britain's queen?

 

I have to take a moment and point out that for many people, including my husband, they couldn’t care less. “This doesn’t even affect us,” he says. My husband has been rolling his eyes for a few weeks now since Queen Elizabeth died. 

 

He couldn’t understand my desire to watch the coverage of King Charles becoming the official monarch and not wanting to miss the funeral of the queen. During the past couple of weeks, I have been surprised to find out just how much my husband doesn’t know about the royal family. (Maybe if he had watched the Netflix series The Crown three times, like I did,  he would be better equipped?)

 

My fascination with the royal family was so deep as a pre-teen, I made a scrap book when the former prince  came to Pittsburgh back in March of 1988. You know I had it bad if I turned one of my sticker books into this keepsake from his two day visit. (I was 12 at the time and Charles was 39 years old and quite the looker in my opinion.) I removed each scratch and sniff, hologram and puffy sticker to make room for pages of newspaper clippings telling the tale of his trip. 

 

He visited Steel Valley High School all those years ago and spent a total of 15 minutes in the school to tour their “Office of the Future” classroom. The school received funds to help revamp their business education curriculum and better prepare students for entering the job market. According to The Daily News clippings that line my scrapbook, the Steel Valley Marching Band played for the future king as he exited a Rolls Royce in front of the school. (I was so jealous of those kids!)

Charles visited the Mon Valley as part of his Remaking Cities Conference. This area, recovering from the decline of the steel industry, was a place rife with new possibilities. My favorite quote from one of the speeches he gave, during his visit, included the line, “ Let’s show the skeptics what can be achieved.” I think if King Charles ever makes his way back to Pittsburgh, he will be proud of what has become of the Steel City and encourage us to keep going. We now have amazing green space and the city has become known for its medical and technological industries. 

Now here we are, 34 years after that visit, and Charles is a king. As has been the case during the course of his lifetime he continues to be overshadowed by others - first his mother, then Diana, and now his son, William. Many people would prefer William as king with his lovely young family in tow. But Charles deserves his time in the spotlight for however long he is allowed. He has had years to fantasize about what kind of king he would be and now we get to sit back and watch.

 

So King Charles, the words you used many years ago seem aptly fitting now. 

Show the skeptics what you can achieve. 

 

 

Great Expectations

 

We don't know how good we had it.

I say that to my husband whenever we see a baby.

Those little ones are so unaware of all of the love and effort that are going into taking care of them. They sit in their stroller/car seat without a care in the world and won't remember much of the best time of their lives.

I say the best time because there are no worries. No awareness of the pain and suffering that is going on around them. Babies M.O. is basically sleep, eat, poop. That's it. There is no - pay bills, go to work, clean the house. Sleep, eat, poop. All the good stuff.

Don't get me wrong. There are good parts of other stages of life. But babies, they have it pretty darn good.

Since we don't remember when we were babies, we definitely don't remember the time before we were born - when our arrival was anxiously awaited.

I was the first grandchild on my father's side. I was the first of what would end up being seven grandchildren. But the first, well, we're kind of special. I always knew this because I had a nickname. My grandmother called me Sweetie. She never called me Kristen. Her daughter, my Aunt Sandy, never calls me Kristen. Always Sweetie.

Another thing...my second sibling. Well, he got a nickname too only because of his relationship to me. My grandma called him Brother. He was in fact my brother but grandma was the only one who called him that.

My specialness was never lost on me but was recently reaffirmed.  My mom has been going through boxes/drawers of things at her house. Over the past year, I have been given letters I wrote while I was in college, awards I received in high school and even my kindergarten class photo. These things are all nice to add to my personal collection but only finalize the fact that my parents will not be erecting a Kristen Keleschenyi Museum any time soon.

Recently, I was given something I am amazed still exists. It was a card sent to my mother, from her mother-in-law, congratulating her on her pregnancy. My mom and dad were practically newlyweds, married in March of 1973 and expecting their first child by August of 1974. They were living in an apartment, had just started out on their new life as husband and wife, not even a year into it, and were now preparing to start a family.

I personally would have been very nervous about becoming a mom so soon after starting a new marriage but it appears everybody was excited about this little baby that was about to enter the scene.

"We certainly will be proud of our grandchild," my grandmother wrote 49 years ago. Heck, I hadn't even done anything yet and they knew they were going to be proud.

It was pretty amazing to read the cover "To A Lovely Mother To Be". I wondered what it must have been like for my parents finding out they were expecting and not knowing what the future would hold. I guess it was similar to what my husband and I experienced when we were expecting the first time around. We were so happy and anxious to meet our little one. We couldn't wait to be parents. It was a role both my husband and I knew we were destined for. I know it is a role my parents treasure and their grandchildren have been their greatest joy in their retirement years.

I was 12 when my Grandpap Bishop passed away and I was 22 when my Grandma Bishop passed away. I had not a doubt they were proud of me and their other grandchildren. (My grandmother had the newspaper clippings to prove it!) I wish she could have met my husband and her great-grandchildren, especially my daughter who was born eight years to the day my grandmother passed away.

When you are almost 50 and thinking about what you have left to accomplish, it is humbling to think of a time when you hadn't accomplished anything and were already loved no matter what. It is nice to think of the nurturing environment I was born into and I am truly grateful to know my parents are still providing that environment years later, and not just for me, but for my kids and my sister's kids.

 

The next time I see a baby, I'm not going to look at him or her through my eyes. I am going to look at that little one from the perspective of those who awaited that little one's arrival with hope and anticipation and remember my grandparents who couldn't wait to meet me. I hope all of these years later, I am continuing to make them proud and maybe even allowing them, in a special way, to catch a glimpse of themselves and the legacy they left behind. 

*My blog is featured each week in the On My Mind column in The Valley Mirror Newspaper. The paper covers the Steel Valley and Woodland Hills communities.*

You Say It's Your What???

 

Things like this normally hit me hard.

Milestone birthdays for my kids usually get the waterworks flowing. Double digits, thirteen, sixteen, eighteen but this particular one is unchartered territory.

The big 2-0!

First, I don't know how this is even possible. Where did the time go? How did our first born go from being the most easy-going baby you could ask for to a young man who will soon emancipate himself from our home and start his very own journey. In the blink of an eye, I tell you, it all happened.

My feelings are mostly of shock and disbelief. Do I look old enough to have a 20-year-old? Who am I kidding? I sure do! I've got the recently dyed grays and whites to prove it. I can barely get the words about his milestone birthday, when the subject comes up, but the reality sets in quick and it is like a punch in the gut.

Ugh....

Sometimes it is hard to remember the little boy he was. The things I remember most are his voracious appetite for reading, his great taste in music and his curiosity about the world around him. Not much has changed, although the reading part has decreased thanks to the iPhone, but you can add that as he has matured, he has cultivated an amazing sense of humor which is the envy of his father and I.

I am not sure what my expectations were for my first child once he arrived on the scene. The little baby who entered this world a week early. (His lack of promptness now makes his entrance twenty years ago quite surprising.) I could never have imagined the journey this shy little boy would take us on which began with reading before age 4, an extended potty training, and a painful adjustment to kindergarten.

He eventually ditched the pull-ups, made friends in school and then took an interest in joining an eastern European song and dance group. He started taking cello lessons and had orchestra concerts.

He was co-salutatorian of his senior class during the pandemic and then he was accepted into the longest running live stage production group in the country, The Tamburitzans (formerly associated with Duquesne University), and has spent the last year traveling across the U.S.performing with them.

I know this is just the beginning. It is exciting, sad and scary all at the same time. Just like the way I felt unprepared to become a parent in the first place, that is how I feel with this next chapter about to start. No one prepares you for the letting go or for the worry you experience each time there is something new and unexpected thrown at you.

My son goes away for weeks at a time now. His college communicates solely with him. He makes big decisions on his own. He is fighting each day for his independence and I know his wings are ready to fly. But am I ready to let go?

I don't have immediate memories of my 20th birthday but I can guess how I must have been feeling: optimistic, happy yet anxious about what path I should choose for my career. My son is feeling these now as well. All we can do is encourage him every step of the way to not let fear dictate what he should set his sights on.

I am thankful for the people who have come into his life and have helped guide him along the way. Yes, I am his mother but I cannot take sole credit for the person he is today. He has had great teachers, great friends and a loving family that have been there for him for the first two decades of his life. I know there will be others to help guide him during the next leg of his journey and I am hopeful they will be as awesome as the first cast.

It is hard to put into words all of the things you wish for your children. Obviously, you want them to be safe and healthy but I also want my son to find his passion. Find his happiness. Life is too short to have an ordinary life. In his first two decades he has been anything but ordinary and he is soon going to have complete control of the reins.

Am I nervous? Yes, I am. But is he ready? Yes, he is.

Happy 20th birthday to my first born. May he continue to bless the world with talents and may his journey be everything he wishes for and more.