Acorns, autumn leaves and woolly catepillars....

    I absolutely love autumn. I love everything about it, and I especially love autumn in Western Pennsylvania where I grew up. Over the years, I had promised myself that someday I would go back during this special time. Two years ago, I did just that. I went home for a ten day visit. The weather was beautiful, and the colors were glorious!

    I spent every morning and afternoon with my parents. But, when it got close to three o'clock I would speed dial my sister. "Hey, can I pick up the kids from school today? Can I take them to the park to play?" After all, I needed to get outside, and I didn't know anyone else who was available at three in the afternoon. I also didn't know anyone else who had the energy to keep up with me.

    I would race to the school and impatiently wait for my playmates. We went to the park and I always found something new and exciting. "Acorns!" I beamed at the kids. After all, I hadn't seen acorns in years. "A woolly caterpillar!" Really, when was the last time I saw one of those? By the time I was skipping through the leaves, I couldn't help but notice the way my young companions were nudging each other and giggling. Hmmm....I wondered what they found so amusing.

    One afternoon the park was uncharacteristically crowded. It appears that the trails are used for the local high school track meets. It was a perfect day and I was in a particularly playful mood, so we skipped and sang as we maneuvered around the crowds to find an open spot just for us. We balanced on logs, played Ninja games and I entertained them by doing cartwheels. Just about the time we had a cartwheel competition going on, I noticed a man staring at us a short distance away.

    I remembered seeing him earlier when we separated from the crowd. As a matter of fact, he was close behind us when we pretended to train with swords using big sticks that we found on the ground. I gathered the kids close to me and headed off to another section of the park. He followed us, and even picked up his pace until he was directly behind us. Quietly, I took the stick out of my niece's hand. I stepped in front of her and my nephew, and positioned myself for his next move.

    "Hi," he said. "I am a photographer for the Times. Can I take your picture for the paper?" I was speechless. After all, I was ready to clobber him with my stick, and he was asking to take our picture. "I can't guarantee it will be in the paper, but it might make the online issue. You can check tomorrow." I finally regained enough composure to notice the large camera he was carrying. I found my voice. "You mean the Beaver County Times?" At least he wasn't a stalker. I hoped.

    The next day people all over the County were greeted with a picture of the three of us on the front page of the Times. My niece and nephew were local celebrities. I was their Awesome Aunt Cheryl from Colorado that picked them up after school, knew how to do cartwheels, taught them how to be Ninjas, and got their picture in the paper. In the meantime, I was kicking myself for wearing a T shirt that afternoon instead of the pretty pink blouse I wore the day before.

    My ten day visit lasted a lot longer than I had planned. Four weeks later I was still there. I still walked all over the woods and the park, and I still picked up my playmates from school to play with me, even though the days were getting shorter and considerably colder. By that time, the acorns, autumn leaves and woolly caterpillars had lost their magic, but that's a story for another day.

    Out of all the people that crowded into the park on that beautiful fall day, I don't know why the photographer chose us. Maybe because we looked so happy and were having so much fun together. Maybe because he never saw a middle aged lady do a cartwheel before. Or maybe he was tired of photographing the high school track stars.

    The point is, sometimes you just have to let yourself go and be silly. It's important to retain your child like spirit and curiosity, no matter what else is going on in your life. You never know what will develop, so to speak. Remember to walk softly and carry a big stick, especially when you are responsible for the health and safety of young children. Finally, when you go out to play,  you might want to wear a pretty blouse instead of a T shirt. You never know who's going to see you!

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

Signs of spring

    It's a sure sign of spring when robins start building their nests. When I was a little girl, a sassy little robin built her nest on the window sill of the bedroom that I shared with my two older sisters. My sisters and I watched her build her nest, lay her eggs, hatch her chicks and feed them. Through the window, we watched her and she watched us. That robin must have found the comings and goings of three little girls equally as fascinating as we found her. Perhaps that's why she chose that spot to build her nest.

    I was in kindergarten, so I got home earlier than my two older sisters. One day when I came home from school, my mother told me that  "company" was coming to visit. I found that strange. Who comes to visit in the middle of the day in the middle of the week? Especially when my dad was at work, my older sisters were in school, and it was my younger sister's nap time? Well, "company" just happened to be a photographer from the local newspaper. Apparently our family of baby birds was a feel good human interest story, and an encouraging sign that spring had arrived. If you have ever experienced a  Western Pennsylvania winter, you understand that this certainly is reason to celebrate.

    The photographer wanted a picture of me feeding the birds. My mother opened the bedroom window and gave me small chunks of bread to give them. I stood on the bed so I could reach out of the window. The nice gentleman from The Times positioned himself on the porch and started snapping pictures. I didn't give a rip about having my picture taken, or the possibility that it might be in the paper. All I cared about was the opportunity to feed those little birds and get a closer look at them. When he was finished, he and my mother engaged in adult conversation while I basked in the glory of feeding the birds.

    The grown ups forgot about me and the birds as they continued to talk. That's when the real excitement began. One of the birds hopped out of the nest, over the window sill, and fell onto the bed. I squealed in delight, my mother screamed in horror, and another baby bird followed his brother out of the nest and onto the bed. My mother and the photographer ran into the bedroom and tried to catch the birds. I continued to squeal, my mother continued to scream, and the poor photographer ran around in circles as the entire nest of birds made their way into the bedroom. And, as birds often do, started dropping birdie bombs everywhere, if you get my drift.

    My mom and the photographer kept running into each other as they tried to catch the birds. In all my born days I had never seen so much chaos. Or had so much fun. Just as soon as one of the adults came close to catching a bird, it managed to slip away, start hopping, and poop some more. All four of them made their way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and dining room. I was only five, but even I saw the wisdom of closing the bedroom door to confine them to one room. I sure was glad the adults didn't think of that. I could have told them, but where was the sport in that? Besides, who listens to a five year old? Anyway, it wouldn't have been nearly as entertaining or as much fun for me.

    Eventually, all of the baby birds were caught and safely placed back in their nest. I can still see the look on my mother's face. The photographer was sweating, his glasses were crooked, his tie was twisted, and he had stepped in bird poop. The two of them looked at each other and eventually started to laugh. He offered to stay and help my mother clean up the mess, but she pretty much had enough company for one afternoon. By the time my sisters got home from school, my younger sister woke up from her nap, and my dad came home from work, there was no sign of the fiasco that had taken place that afternoon. However, my mom and I had a fine story to tell at dinner that evening.

    The picture did make the front page of the local paper. I guess The Times felt they owed it to my mother. Soon after that, the birds were gone and all that was left was the empty nest. Eventually, the nest was gone as well. I was left with a splendid memory of a very exciting afternoon, and a story that my mother and I shared and laughed about for the next fifty years.

    I learned that it's a fine thing to celebrate spring. It's good to have company over, even if it is in the middle of the day in the middle of the week when nobody else is home. It's important to feed the birds. And if you ever have baby birds in your bedroom, you might want to close the door and confine them to one room. Unless, of course, you have a five year old around.
 

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

A very funny Easter Bunny.....

    Growing up in Western Pennsylvania was pretty special. All of the holidays were celebrated with great enthusiasm. It didn't matter if it was a national holiday, state holiday, school holiday, personal holiday, birthday, or religious holiday. We celebrated them all.

    Being of Eastern European descent, our family celebrated Easter with the ethnic and cultural traditions of our religion and our heritage. However, we also got to experience the other part of the Easter holiday, the Easter Bunny. And we enjoyed the decadence of all the chocolate Easter bunnies, chocolate eggs, jelly beans and marshmallow peeps.

    Of course, the Easter Bunny is famous for leaving baskets for each child at every house he visits. But, he never left baskets for me and my sisters. We must have been last on his "to do" list, and by the time he got to our house at the end of the street and at the top of the hill,  things began to go awry.

    Every year he developed a small hole in the bottom of his bag, probably from dragging it around all night as he went from house to house. As a result, he left a small trail of jelly beans on the walk leading up to the door of our house. The trail became bigger the closer he got to our front door. By the time he used his magic key to unlock the door to our house, jelly beans and brightly colored chocolate eggs began to litter the floor.

    At that point he must have given up. Since candy was already falling out of his bag, he must have decided to go with the flow. So he did. And he made an incredible mess. He threw candy all over the dining room and living room floor. At least he neatly lined up the packages of colored peeps, large chocolate bunnies and big eggs on the fireplace. Maybe he stole that idea from Santa Claus.

    Every Easter morning, we woke up to that beautiful, colorful mess. My sisters and I crawled around, gathered up the candy, and put it in the bowls and baskets that our mother pulled out of the cabinets. Yes, indeed, once a year we ate candy right off of the floor! Good thing our mother was a meticulous housekeeper. And, we rarely used the living room and dining room anyway. It was only for company.

    Every year, our mother would  complain about that darned Easter Bunny for messing up her house. And, every year she would plot how to stop him from doing the same thing the following year. We always hoped the Easter Bunny didn't hear her. That rascally rabbit was one funny bunny. It would sure be a bummer if we started getting boring baskets like the other kids. Where's the sport in that?

    Fortunately, our Mom never did stop him in his tracks. And every Easter Sunday we were treated with the sight of all that candy thrown all over the floor. Although, it wasn't as much fun picking up candy off of the floor as I got older, especially since my two older sisters and I got to help our Easter Bunny throw the candy around for our younger sisters when it was their turn to enjoy the magic. But, it was still okay to eat candy right off of the floor.

   The truth is, I still believe in the Easter Bunny. And Santa Claus. I believe in the magic of childhood, and I believe in the power of healing and comfort that sweet memories provide. I believe in the mystery and the reality of things that cannot be explained, but that we know in our hearts exist. And, I learned a few important things along the way. It's important to keep your floors clean. You never know when something sweet might land on them. Second, don't put all your eggs in one basket. You may want to throw them around a bit, and share them with others. At least, that's what our Easter Bunny would recommend.

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

There's a car in our living room.

    It was late winter. It was late enough in the evening for it to be dark outside, but not so late that my 2 older sisters and I were in bed yet. I was 4 years old.  My mother was working on a project at the dining room table. My oldest sister was doing her homework at the kitchen table. My other older sister was in the corner bedroom that the three of us shared. My father wasn't home.

    I had just put my pajamas on and walked into the dining room to my Mom, turned around, and asked her to snap up the back of my "jammies". Just as she started, a horrible series of explosions rocked the house. I fell over backwards and could hear myself and my sisters screaming. My mother immediately reacted and yelled, "Girls, the house is blowing up! Quick, get your coats and shoes and get out of the house!"

   My sisters and I dutifully ran to the hall closet with our Mom close on our heels to make sure we got our coats and shoes on before leaving the house. (You may be wondering why anyone would insist on grabbing our coats when the house was exploding. If you are thinking this, I guarantee you have never spent a long, cold winter in Western Pennsylvania).

    Anyway, as we were grabbing the appropriate outerwear, our mother looked back into the living room and said, with obvious relief in her voice, "Girls, girls. It's OK, it's just a car."  We looked back with her and, sure enough, you could see the blinking red tail lights of a huge green station wagon that had gone through our picture window right up to the stone fireplace!

    Just then our neighbor showed up at our door. The poor man was hysterical and inconsolable. His family was with him, all equally upset. It was their car that had come crashing through our window. They had just come home from an evening out. He had parked the car in his driveway. He and his family (thankfully) got out. He opened his garage door, turned around to get back in his car and pull it into the garage, and the car was gone.  Unfortunately, he forgot to put the car in park, nor did he engage the emergency brake. Oooops.

    We lived at the top of a hill. Well, almost at the top. Our neighbors lived across the street and slightly above us. They watched in horror as their car rolled down their driveway, across the street, picked up speed and momentum to come crashing through our window. I can't imagine what that experience was like for them. As upset and terrified as we were, it must have been even worse for them, wondering if anyone had the misfortune to be in the living room at the time. Had anyone been in there, they would not have survived.

    Our Mom took us a few houses down where another neighbor looked after us. She comforted our neighbor and his family. She realized that as bad as the situation was, it could have been much worse. She knew she had a mess on her hands and that my Dad was in for a huge surprise when he got home. But her family was safe. I remember sitting next to one of our neighbor's boys in front of their fireplace as he peeled an orange for me. Even though I had been through what could be considered a trauma, I knew all was well with the world. I was safe. I was in front of a warm fire, and I was eating an orange. The grownups were in charge. They would figure it out. And fix it.

    There are several life lessons in this little story. First of all, even if your world is exploding around you, you still need to get your coat and shoes on to protect you from the elements. You made need them. Second, no matter how much you are suffering, someone else may be suffering more, and needs your reassurance and comfort. Third, it's important to use your emergency brake. You never know when it may come in handy. Last of all, oranges in late winter is a luxury. Especially if your house just blew up.

Be healthy!

Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP