Author: Jennie Lee Castrogiovanni

New Name

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn personal essay8 Comments

Howdy! It’s been a while. Recently I decided that I would change the name of my blog. The old name, Gallivanting, has bothered me a bit. It sort of has a silly-old-lady-kickin’-up-her-heels-and-making-a-fool-out-of-herself vibe that doesn’t accurately describe me. Well, maybe sometimes…

I have not been writing much lately, rather I’ve been in a bit of a survival mode…just getting through, as we sometimes have to do in life. 

I thought about giving up the blog. It’s so public. But it’s a place for me to make public one of the things I like to do most in life, write. But it’s so public, and I am a private person. You will never see a TikTok video of me wrestling a python. Or jumping off a cliff in a string bikini.

As I wavered between yes and done-with-the-blog, I wrote a thank-you poem to relatives who have been incredibly generous and kind to my husband and me lately. They loved it; they teared up. That’s all the encouragement it took for me to decide.

Now for the rename:

The word still came to mind; this word can be used as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, or conjunction. It’s a short, sturdy word, much like me, I suppose. It reflects the me who remains after life shredded the gallivanter.  I picked Still for the new name of my blog. Then I Googled it to make sure it hasn’t already been used. I discovered that Still was the name of 2023 movie that actor Michael Fox made about his life. I went to Barbie this year, but I didn’t see Still. Rotten Tomatoes gave it great reviews. I need to watch it; however, now that I know about it, I feel that Still is Michael Fox’s word, so I searched my brain and my thesaurus for another title. Also, I drew inspiration from Jeopardy, which was on while I was thinking about this.

 Here’s my list of ideas:

Love from the Endless Mountains

Forget-me-not

Still a work in progress

Some words

Sometimes sitting still

Still stringing necklaces

Dancing with words

Dagnabbit

Proceeding at a gallop or sometimes sitting still

What I know

Words on my mind

Yackety-yack

Yackety-yack almost made it, but then I had another thought.

 Love in My Heart and Words on My Mind

It might sound a bit sappy to some. Love in my heart. My sons accuse me of being a hippy sometimes. I was a little too young to actually be a hippy during the 60’s, but if peace and love is where it’s at, let me jump on that bandwagon. Call me a hippy if you wish. I’m all right with that.

I promise you that when I write my words, I try to start from a place of love. I try to make whoever reads my words feel some humor, feel some happiness and maybe some sadness, feel something of the beauty of the earth, as the hymn goes. I’m not really into controversy. God knows there is enough of that in this world. So, there you have it.

Words are always on my mind. I love words: love to read, love to listen to books, love to think about words. Love to do Wordle.

And love is the place where I’m coming from. I hope you feel it.

I’m still here, in case you were wondering.

And in case you are still reading, a thousand thanks!

Went hiking

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn nature, poetry, spiritual11 Comments 
Went hiking today 
with my dear ones, 
dogs and people, 
except for the old, old
dog, 
who rested on a cushion, 
and waited,
snoozing, 
while we trekked
up the mountain,
through the pines, 
along the named trails
that used to belong 
only 
to deer,
on this cloudy,
breezy,
chilly
March day, 

after a season
of sorrow-- 

coyote and  
wild turkey 
tracks, 

talk of the 
magic of possums,
talk of old times
and
people--

hemlocks,
maples, 
and my favorite
birches, 
trees, 
rocks,
moss, 
leaves,
did I mention trees? 

Through the snowy 
woods we 
walked, 
and paused
and talked
and walked
some more
and paused
and talked-- 

up the pipelined 
way, 
up, up
and over the 
thank-you-ma’ams -- 

gazed off 
at the splendid
Endless Mountains,
and descended 
through the meadow
feeling blessed 
by Mother/Father
Earth/God
and washed 
in the loveliness
of our company, 
of our way.

Thank you for reading this. This one is for my hiking companions.

Angels Dancing

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn spiritual6 Comments 

The chancel
was 
a beautiful,
magical manger, 
all red and green 
and white and pink.

The flute choir played,
the bell choir followed.
The church choir sang,
and we all followed
the joyful tune. 
Truly,
it sounded 
heavenly.

Sitting in the back
I could scarcely 
breathe,
as, 
just for a moment,
I saw
some
shimmering,
smiling
Angels 
dancing  
in the air 
above us. 

I knew them all.

My world blurred;
then everything
came clear
in mystical, 
perfect
Harmony.


----------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading this.  May peace and love be yours!

My Mount Kilimanjaro

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn personal essay13 Comments

The thing about writing a blog is that you, you meaning I, I write for myself mostly. I write because it’s what I have to do sometimes. Sometimes I write to amuse myself, sometimes to make sense of things, sometimes to challenge myself, sometimes to conquer my sadness. The last essay I wrote was to do all of those things.

            Sometimes (this afternoon), I’ll have a thought while I’m raking the leaves, and it won’t let me go. Then I’ll fling down the rake and I’ll tear into the house and wring out my mind without even stopping to take off my coat. Other times I have to force myself to sit down at the computer. Still other times I say the heck with it and continue raking the leaves while talking out loud to myself. Good thing I live in the country.

            Having explained my egocentric reason for writing my haphazard blog, I also admit that I am thrilled when I see that people have read my words.

            There is a darker, shaded green, side to me that thinks, damn, why can’t I get 100,000,000 viewers like Taylor Swift or Stephen King probably does? LOL! Laughing through my tears of envy. Why can’t I be like those cute little kids on Instagram who say something funny or cliff -dive or something and suddenly they are an overnight sensation?

            I try to walk away from this petty self, but you try to walk away from your uglier self, and eventually you run into the barrier that is your own skin every time. And then you turn back and take a peek at your daily WordPress stats. No views today, rats!

            Or, like today, four views! Hooray! And they are from the United Kingdom. Hmm! Who in the United Kingdom is looking at my humble blog? Could it be…? Prince, no, KING CHARLES? Or Camilla? Or maybe Elton John? Adele? Who knows?  I don’t. I’ll just assume.

            Anyway, when I retired a year and a half ago, another teacher asked me what was I going to do next. Any big plans?  He told me that his brother’s first goal upon retiring was to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Holy smokes, I thought. I have no desire to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. For one thing, I am afraid of heights, and from all accounts, it’s pretty tall. My next thought was, well, I do have a climb to make, the treacherous climb up the stairs to my attic where a hellscape of old school projects, discarded clothes, and many, many wicker baskets await rediscovery. I will make that climb, I will purge that attic of all the detritus of the decades, and then I will breathe the rarified air in triumph.

            A year and a half later, and it hasn’t happened yet. It’s still all there, waiting to be conquered. Did I mention my daughter’s ten-year-old wedding bouquet that is hanging from the rafters? Still there, all dried up.  I’ll probably get to it.

            So far, I haven’t really started training my border collie to be a therapy dog yet either. She can sit though. And shake.

            Nor have I gotten in the best shape of my life. I’m still a little bit of a fatty. But I’m now a bit of a fatty who does Yoga. Don’t try to picture that.

            I have come to a realization, though, that I do have a personal Mount Kilimanjaro. My Mount Kilimanjaro is my writing.

             I have made some progress on that path. I’ve kept writing this haphazard blog, I’ve written a eulogy, I’ve written a little children’s tale about a hound dog. I’m writing my Storyworth Memoir, but, alas, I’m slightly behind–by 20 chapters or so. Do you know what Storyworth is?  It’s an on-line enterprise where the mysterious Storyworth people send you a prompt every week, and you answer it or write a chapter of your choosing. When you are done, at the end of a year (plus three extra months if needed, thank God!), they send you a hard copy of your memoir.  You have written a book! This is something a thoughtful loved-one might order for you for Christmas, thank you, Mariah. You know I mean that! I’m doing it in my own procrastinating, easily-distracted-by-a-snowflake way.

             I’m on my way through the foothills; I’m writing!

            Anyway, on this week before Thanksgiving, I am very grateful to you, yes you, whoever you are, who has taken the time to read this little ditty.  A million thanks. You probably didn’t even realize that you made my day just by reading my words.  And if you actually happen to be King Charles, Cheerio, Sir!

Wrong Side of the Law

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn humor4 Comments

“To err is human, to forgive divine.” -Alexander Pope

         I have a checkered past when it comes to run-ins with the law. I have lost count, but I have probably been stopped by various officers of the law at least a dozen times for various traffic infractions. OUCH!!

         Most of these incidents took place in my younger days when I was always late and trying to catch up, and I didn’t really get it that 35 means 35. It doesn’t matter if you don’t agree. Don’t go 45 or 65 if the sign says 35.

         One of the first times this happened was when I was student teaching in Souderton Pa. I was trying to get to my first day’s meeting with my Penn State student teaching instructor. This was in the dark days before GPS when you were just supposed to follow lines on a paper map. I was confused, nervous, scared, and disoriented…actually I wasn’t sure which end was up, wasn’t sure I really even wanted to be a teacher. Before I knew it, there was a siren, and a handsome young cop pulled me over. “Do you know how fast you were going?” “No,” “45 in a 25-mph zone. It’s a school zone lady, didn’t you see the little kids trying to cross the road?” At which point I started sobbing. He let me off, and I learned a lesson: don’t speed in school zones, and crying helps.

         On and on it went. On my way back from State College I had a carful of passengers, my sister and our collective children, when I was pulled over near the Lycoming Mall for speeding. I felt indignant. I wasn’t going that fast. I didn’t cry, I got the ticket, and then my three-year old terrified daughter threw up all over the back seat.

          I got pulled over coming home from a square dance with a carload of kids. We were all dressed in tie-dyed tee-shirts.  It was almost midnight and when turning right at the top of Bank Street in our small town, I accidentally slid through a stop sign. There was nary a car in sight, except for a lonely cop in an invisibility cloak, who pulled me over, and gazed with disbelief at the carful of tie-dyed tee-shirted kids, and my dozing husband in the passenger seat. He let me go with a warning. Such a nice man!

         There was my old student-turned-cop, Chandra, who nabbed me as I was zipping through Mehoopany. “Sorry, Mrs. Castro. I’d like to let you go, but rules are rules.” Yeah, yeah, yeah. For that one I think I got a couple of points taken away. Yikes! Thanks, Chandra!

         I was going up the hill, headed out of Tunkhannock one day with three boys in the back seat when I noticed the familiar red flashing light. “S#&!…Start crying!” I told them. For shame, involving children, I thought to myself, and I started laughing and couldn’t stop.  That was the wrong thing to do! S#&T, S#&T, S#&T!

         Eventually, I learned my lesson. I started driving no more than five miles above the speed limit. I knew that I was on the right path when my kids started to complain that I was driving too slowly.

         And now it’s been years since I got on the wrong side of the law. Rules are rules for a reason, to keep everyone safe. I am older and wiser now.

I have pretty much learned to start a little earlier to get where I’m going on time, or to just accept that I will be fashionably late.

         Until my mother died in June.

         A couple of days after the funeral I was coming home from taking my son, his wife, and baby girl up to the Syracuse airport. My mind was not in a good place. I was so sad. And I was not entirely paying attention to how fast I was going, even though I know that there are always at least 100 cop cars along 81 between Binghamton and the Canadian border. Before I knew it, I was flying past a cop car. Woah, Bessy! I put on the brakes. Too late. There he came, like a shark smelling blood. There was traffic flying by and I looked for an exit. I kept driving. Pretty soon I was sweating. OMG now I’m going to get it for evasion too. So I pulled over, even though there were cars flying by, and I was worried for the officer’s safety.

         Pretty soon a child dressed in cop clothes appeared at the passenger window. He could not have been over fifteen. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked.

          Duh.  “Yes, I was speeding and I am very sorry.”

         “You were going 75 in a 55-mile area.”  Whoops!  I gave him my credentials. “Where were you coming from?” he asked.

         “I was coming back from dropping off my son and his family at the Syracuse Airport.”

         “So you had a great 4th of July celebration”? he asked innocently.

         “My mother died,” I blurted out. And I started sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, Officer. I gave the eulogy; I didn’t break down in front of all those people. I’m so sorry,” I could not get control of myself, and as I was crying, I was also thinking, “Oh, mom! I don’t mean to use your death in this way to avoid a ticket.” Of course, my mom knew my history.

         “It’s ok,” said the young fellow, “I’m sorry for your loss. Let me just go back to my car and check out some things.” I just kept crying. I could not stop.

         He came back a couple of minutes later. “Ma’am, you are free to go. Just be careful out there. There are a lot of nut cases out there, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

         “Oh, thank you, Officer,” I said through my tears, “I’m sorry again. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”

         As I pulled away cautiously, I pictured my mother laughing from her far-off perch in heaven.

          And I am done speeding… forever. Probably.

Thank you for reading this.

July 7, 2022

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn Uncategorized4 Comments 
Two weeks 
to the day
after my mother 
slipped away,
I was sitting 
at twilight, 
taking in
my husband’s
glorious garden:

the lavender 
catmint,
red-hot pokers,
tangerine, peach,
and saffron lilies,
daisies, 
and
 pink roses 
from 
a cutting
of his 
grandma's,
long-gone.

All of a sudden
a flash
of scarlet,
a cardinal,
of course, 
lit on the wall, 
for just a 
moment. 




And farewell 
is harder than
I had 
ever
imagined.

Thoughts for an Easter morning

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn Uncategorized5 Comments

I wrote the following essay in April, 1995 for “Meandering”, a bi-weekly column that I used to write for a farm newspaper, The Farmer’s Friend. This year Easter is late, and there are more signs of spring than usual, but here on our farm, we are just between crocuses and daffodils on nature’s calendar, and temperatures yoyo from the 30’s to 70’s so I still stand by what I wrote almost thirty years ago.

         

   There are places where Easter is celebrated amidst riotous colors, where the grass is a rich shade of green, where flowers bloom—lemony daffodils, rose-hued azaleas, tulips dripping red, orange, purple.

            Here in northeastern Pennsylvania though, you can color Easter in shades of chocolate, from the bare-boned trees and the muddy roads to murky, just-thawed ponds and skittish beige deer.

            The skies you can color changeable at this time of the year. Depending on a whim they can be variations of gray, robin’s egg blue, or lily white. Streak them with a hazy rainbow after a shower; strew them with clouds—cumulus, stratus, cirrus, nimbus. Be sure to make the clouds’ shapes interesting—form them into a goat’s head or a set of angel’s wings.

            From your palette select pastels: amber for the stubble-strewn fields, shades of pink and mauve for the far-off forests—colors that hint of things to come. Touches of apple green should spike out here and there, pale, barely-touched-with-chlorophyll green.

            In other places Easter is heralded with trumpet fanfares and 100-voice choirs echoing alleluias. In the hills and valleys of Pennsylvania the quiet colors are complemented with the muted music of geese honking overhead, with the robins singing their odes to spring, and with  the spring peepers’ joyful fanfare.  The sounds of wind and rain add to the northeastern concerto: whispering, bellowing, shrieking wind along with rain percussing—pattering, drumming, pounding a steady beat.

            Easter temperatures in other places will be in the 70s or 80s, and people might wear sun dresses and short-sleeved shirts as they bask in the sun’s early glow at sunrise services. Easter temperatures here may be in the 20s, and we might wear our winter coats and gloves as we hunt for Easter eggs in 12 inches of snow!

            There are many who prefer to flee south for Easter—to celebrate this holiday where flowers bloom, and skies are always sunny.

            For those of us who stay here, spring is still but a promise—one last snowstorm and a hopeful daffodil away. Never mind what the calendar says, the physical evidence is sometimes mighty slim. For hardy northerners, spring is still something to be hoped for, something to have faith in.

            I believe that our less-than-stellar days seem somehow appropriate at Easter-time. Faith, hope, a promise—isn’t that what Easter is about anyway?

Peace to you, and thank you for reading this!

Praying for Ukraine

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn UncategorizedLeave a comment 
I thought I saw a 
light
at the end
 of the tunnel-- 

turns out 
it was just 
a break 
that led 
to another, 
darker
 tunnel.

And, 
don't want to be, 
but
I’m kind of 
mad
at God 
because,

like millions,
 I keep 
praying 
for a miracle—
hasn’t happened
yet.

“Lose yourself in nature
and find peace,” 
said Emerson.

I’m trying, 
Ralph, 
I’m trying.

Day seven of a random week in February

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn Uncategorized9 Comments

Early this week, in a fit of creative inspiration, I challenged myself to a daily blog entry for the week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday went by and I met my challenge. Then Thursday evening my adversary named Self-Doubt stopped by, and I stalled out. So I wrote the following for Friday:

—————————————————————————————–

The hell with the week-long challenge

So this has been fun, but it’s getting stressful, and I’m finding myself peeking at Facebook every five minutes, well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but sometimes when I write this blog, I find myself turning into an insecure person desperate for some likes. It’s getting really bad when you tell your son to like your blog post, so he likes them all even though he hasn’t read any of them. Aiie! I don’t care for that needy, insecure me that crops up sometimes, so I’m going to cut off this challenge today.

I will keep writing. I’m writing a children’s story for my grandchildren and great-niece and a Storyworth memoir. I also have some ideas for future blog posts. They will appear in March or April. Thank you to everyone who has supported me with a “like” or a comment. I do appreciate them. I just don’t want to depend upon them for my peace of mind!

Ciao for now!

—————————————————————————————

I wrote the preceding as my final/give-up-the-challenge blogpost for the week.

Then I peeked at Facebook one more time… and read an encouraging comment from a friend.

Oh, crap, I thought. I can’t end with that final post now. I have to continue and fulfill my challenge to myself. Then I wrote a post about my husband’s artwork.

Of course, watching the Olympics helped too. How can you not be motivated to persevere when hearing the stories of athletes who have struggled and kept on. Right now I am thinking of the women’s figure skating saga and the aftermath of almost everyone crying: one for joy, the youngest crumpled in anguish, another with mascara-tracks running down her cheeks and her eyes blazing, but the young Gold Medal Champion standing alone, stoic, probably in shock, but calm. Her perseverance and grace and that of Nathan Chen and so many more inspired me.

Perseverance: one of the best stories to come from the Olympic Games.

Finally, I want this last post of the week to remain in your mind as a thank note to every person who has encouraged me by leaving a comment (or, yes, liking a post 😎), or just taking the time to read my posts.

Sometimes we don’t even fully grasp the importance of support and encouragement, how far it can take another person.

Ciao for now. I’ll be back in March.

Day six of a random week in February

On By Jennie Lee CastrogiovanniIn Uncategorized4 Comments 
Someone came to our house
and admired 
my husband's
wall of
paintings. 

"Huh,"  he said
incredulously,
"so you're 
a farmer
and an artist, 
never heard 
of that!"

Well, there's 
always a first, 
I thought, 
and why 
does it have 
to be either/or?
Isn't and 
a better option? 

A farmer
and
an artist!

I appreciate that you took the time to read this. Thank you!