New Traditions

For the last too long to recall years I’ve thought of Thanksgiving as a holiday of tradition. When I was a kid we did the same thing every year on turkey day. We did a family thing. Whether it was a large gathering or small it was always with family.

My family changed over the years a lot. My parents divorced and there were step-parents and step family. There were some years I didn’t even see my mom. That’s for another post . And some years I had boyfriends and chose to spend my holiday with them.

Some years were fun and comforting other years the celebrations somber or even angry. But the permeating theme for me was family and friends gathering. And also food food food.

When my dad was married to his second wife we ate chicken as he hated turkey. But we still got out the good China and sat down and thanked God and got down to some good eating.

When I was in college the holidays became a game of driving from one parents gathering to another with a hopeful stop at some friends in between. But I actually liked this musical chairs and of course the multiple meals.

After I was married a few years we took over the hosting of Thanksgiving from my in laws. My husbands family is large. With six sons and their families often we had 25 or more at our home. We shared food duty. Everyone bringing something but it was a huge amount of work but for me it was pure joy. I had always wanted to be part of a large family.

So as luck would have it I married into this big family and as I said I took over hosting the family. And I loved it. About five years ago things changed as my in laws began their decline. My father in law had dementia and my mother in law suffered a fall she never really recovered from and neither of them could travel to my home to celebrate. So things changed.

Some years we brought the feast to them. Their house filled with family and food was eaten with my mother in law acquiescing control to others in her home and my father in law tidying up as we finished as his need to keep order was calming to him as his Dementia worsened and he eventually didn’t know who he was tidying up after.

And as those years progressed we began to take turns and go over separately. Each family visiting them alone for a bit but trying to overlap so we could see some of the others in the family. Sometimes a big bunch of us would still end up there and my in laws seemed to fare ok. I have so many pictures of us sitting on their sofa with them. I miss that.

Kevin’s big family was growing more with grandkids marrying and great grandkids being born. And those expanding families began new traditions of having their holidays with their new brood. It’s just what happens. But I miss them. Today I’ll miss all that chaos.

We lost Kevin’s parents recently and my dad as well though I didn’t see him on Thanksgiving typically but we always spoke. My mom now lives with us. With all the changes – especially with the loss of my mother in law – we are all figuring out what the holidays will look like now.

My family – my three teen kids- my mom – and Kevin and I – talked about what would be a fun new tradition for us. We decided we wanted to do the holidays at our new beach house.

We invited the extended family as our doors are always open but this year they are all trying on their new traditions as the beacons that brought us together are now gone.

Though I’m sad for all the losses -I’m really excited for this new way of celebrating. Since my last surgery I’ve been feeling better. I still have some pain that will hopefully improve but I’m able to cook again. I’m not cooking the meal! No. Bethany Blues – a great restaurant nearby- made the dinner. We began to order our holiday meals not long after I got cancer. Making the entire meal is too overwhelming – so I made desserts with my mom. We have one more pie to bake today. Then all I have to do is heat the meal up later. I actually like to cook and I’m thankful that I’m now able to do so but I just can’t physically make such a big feast -and frankly I like the ability to relax with family on the holiday. My kitchen duties are much less this way.

I will miss the big family gathering and we are now trying to make sure we all find some way at least once a year to try to get Kevin’s brothers and families together at some point. I suspect it’s going to be hard especially as the families expand but it’s important to try I think. I have one brother and it’s infinitely hard for us to get together. Getting six families together will be challenging.

I’ll miss seeing my mother in law. If she was still here we’d be going to see her today at her assisted living facility. But I know she was in pain and unhappy living there. She tried to make the best of it but I’m glad the Lord called her home to be at peace. But she won’t be out of my head today.

So here I am writing this at the beach house. Kevin and my daughter have left and are off to run in a Turkey Trot together. I don’t trot except for on a horse -and I think this is a nice father daughter tradition.

I think I’ll honor my dad today by spreading more of his ashes in my garden. I feel he’s a part of this house – a place he never has been but a place I would have never had if it weren’t for him.

I’ve found things can change so fast and we have to learn to ride the waves. I have had many changes in my life and seem to have managed to morph as needed. It’s not always easy. Many times I’ve dragged myself into the next iteration of life kicking and screaming. But this new way of being together over the holidays is exciting to me.

Tomorrow we will go to Lowe’s to pick up our new fake tree that we will set up here at the beach house and will decorate this weekend in preparation to have Christmas here. We will have a tree at home in Maryland too Just in case the weather strands us there. It’s all about being flexible.

So today I will be thankful for many things. Family and food and improving health. And I’ll be thankful for new traditions. It’s change that makes us grow. As my dad would have said “it will put hair on your chest” (for years I didn’t get that but I do now. My dad’s sayings – Lord I miss those!).

Happy Thanksgiving – with love from me.

Those little empty spaces- leaving them be.

I haven’t been to the barn since our barn cat Mango was hit and killed by a car last Wednesday. I’ve been recuperating from surgery. Sadly I can already feel in my heart what it will be like when I go down there -and Kevin has corroborated my thoughts -there’s an emptiness. He said it. This little cats death left an empty space.

No more will she come trotting down from the hayloft -her voice preceding her. Nor will she play chase with my horse crop as I flick it along the cement floor of the barn aisle. Nor will she try to bite me if I wanted to stop petting her (she wasn’t perfect:)). It’s just a dusty mess of emptiness. The barn is little more hollow. There’s a vacancy.

This isn’t a post about our little cat that we lost. I’ve posted many pictures of her and shared her over the years. She was a great barn cat. Freedom was hers and sadly that freedom is what also left her with more risks like busy roads. But what this post is about is those sad little empty spaces that beings that we love leave when they die.

We’ve had a number of those empty spaces this last year. They hurt. They make us feel off kilter. While there is -for me -no comparing the losses of my beloved humans to our loved cat- it is a loss. Human loss for me sweeps itself under my feet and pulls me up over myself and then scorches my heart. The loss of beloved pets scorch my heart but don’t render me as dislocated as human loss. But they are still losses that leave empty spaces.

I am so uncomfortable in this emptiness. My first inclination is to fill it up. Because to try to fill it up is easier than facing the sad empty spot head on. With my loss of Mango I’ve sped through the thoughts of “let’s get another cat” to “I’m never going to have another barn cat.” I’ve learned not to listen to any of these thoughts in the wake of loss. I’ve learned that you just have to visit the empty space and eventually in time it won’t be so uncomfortable.

With human loss it is the same but on a way bigger scale. We can’t replace the person we lost with another. Some will try. Some of us will attempt to replace that chasm with anything that can make that space seem so much less empty. But inevitably there isn’t anything to fill those spaces. They never close but they become less sad and uncomfortable.

Kevin said he thinks if we are supposed to get another barn cat it will happen. We will know. And I like that thought. It allows me to face head on the discomforting empty spot Mango left.

I am learning. I don’t always have to try to quell my discomfort. I can learn to just let it be. I can let myself feel what I need to in the time that I need to.

So when I get to the barn in the next few days I think I’ll stand and listen not for what Mango took with her -the little steps and the loud meows- but instead I’ll listen to the silence that she left in her wake and I’ll be thankful that I knew a being like her that left that empty space. Bc those empty spaces we feel really come from loving another – and how scary can something that came from love be?

More surgery / and my vanity

I’m sitting here this morning in bed. I’m having a bad pain day. The nerve pain is hot across my right side and chest and the there is that tingling tickling burning sensation that travels across to my throat. I cough. Nobody knows exactly why. They know I have a lot of scarring that has adhered to my chest under my arm and I have radiation damage as well. They feel my sensations come because of this issue. All these things that are very hard to fix.

It’s funny how such a little area can make a person disabled when it flares up. It’s very frustrating. I’m so much better than I was last year but I’m still plagued with pain and it’s too much of a focus of my day and it controls my life too much. So on Wednesday next week two surgeons are going to try to ease some of the pain.

My wonderful nerve surgeon and a plastic surgeon are going to try fat grafting. This procedure requires liposuction of an area on the body. With me it will be my stomach- and my love handles 🙂 -see the smiley? I’m all for losing some fat since I’ve put on weight from the medicine I take for nerve pain.

Anyway they spin that fat so they get the good stuff and then they inject in my areas of scarring and pain. The idea is twofold. The scar will be lifted off the chest wall which may relieve some of the pain . Think of having gum stuck in you pants pocket and the two sides are stuck together. Well that is my issue on the side of my body where I had the node biopsy. So your skin is all one piece and when one part is stuck onto your chest wall it throws everything off. My neck gets tight because the scar is so tight it pulls the skin and muscle all the way to my neck. I get rib and breast aches and muscle tightness in my back. All from this small area of my body being off kilter! So the fat will create cushioning under the scar.

The other thing that is looking hopeful with fat grafting is that the stem cells in the fat can help regenerate the radiation damaged tissues. This has been studied over the last few years and the results have been very promising.

So that’s where I am. My third surgery in the last year. All in hopes that I will get to an acceptable pain level. Pain free is likely not going to happen and that’s been hard for me to accept. But I have come to terms with it to a degree but I continue to look for ways to help it improve.

Thankfully I have an amazing surgeon who wants to help. He has brought in a trusted plastic surgeon to do the grafting as he assists. I offer myself up to their expertise and they are pretty optimistic that I’ll get some noticeable relief. So I’m praying this is so and crossing my fingers and toes for an extra boost of hope. If I get some improvement a second grafting can be performed. (More lipo!)

I did ask the plastic surgeon if he would put the extra fat in my face. He said he would during my exam but later thought better of it. Maybe it’s just too much for one session! Maybe he had been joining. I Just thought getting a few wrinkles filled might be an extra bonus!

Since my cancer and subsequent pain issues and because I have three teens who like seeing my hair gray – I have aged a lot in the last few years. So I have had some filler done in my face.

I can hear people gasping. But hello lots of us are getting Botox (I’m not a candidate in my forehead because I have too heavy a brow), fillers and nips and tucks. I don’t want to age gracefully if it is going to go this fast. It is not graceful. So I’m just trying to slow it down -and crap after what I’ve been through I deserve to do things that help me feel good about me.

I’m not one of the confident woman who can accept their body changes and aging. I wish I were. I’ve gained weight and I’m out of shape because I’m limited in the gym. I do walk a lot. But I am not feeling good about me. I’m used to being thinner and more muscular than soft.

I will say that some filler I have had I’ve liked and some I haven’t and thankfully I did not get the kind that lasts lots of years. I don’t like my cheeks probably because I’ve gained weight since I have had my cheeks done. And I feel too cheeky! But I like the filler in my smile lines and in a couple other facial lines. I’m scared to get the filler under my eyes. Which is a problem area for me so I invest in lots of concealer.

I share this because I’m not afraid to show my vanity which come from vulnerability. I’ve been tossed around the last four years. It’s been super hard . Sometimes I wonder why I am still so vain and not just thankful for what I have. The fact is I’m both. I’m thankful and vain. And truly it’s each persons choice what they choose to do or don’t do with their bodies. So I own it. I’m vain but I tell myself that’s ok because I’ve been through hell.

So when the surgeon was thinking he might put some fat in my face I felt excited and nervous. It’s like maybe I could have pain reduction and a cosmetic boost all in one. I figure he changed his mind for a good reason. Probably wants to stick to the real issue at hand. My pain. Which is just fine with me.

In the long run if I had to prioritize what is most important – getting rid of pain would rank #1. Obviously. So heres to surgery number 3 for my post cancer treatment pain – I’m praying for good pain relief . (And if he has some extra fat for a wrinkle or two maybe he would surprise me).

Oh and there is the liposuction 😉

Hey whatever it takes to keep the spirits up right?

Am I that good? 

In the days and weeks since my mother in laws passing this past July there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought of her. I miss her so much and I feel a little lost at sea without her. 

I was a lucky one I got a great mother In law and she became a close friend. 

To know her was to love her. She was really special. When you spoke with her she made you feel so important. She never wanted the conversation to dwell on her. Though closer to her end time she did suffer and we did talk about her. We tried to make her feel nearly as good as she had made us feel over the years we knew her. 

Doris always made you feel like you were a great person.  In her eyes you were the best. If her son loved me then I was a rock star. 

Just knowing her made me feel like I wanted to be a better person. Not because she would judge you because you fell short but because she saw you in a way that maybe you had never seen in yourself. She was good and kind and you wanted to be good and kind. And just maybe bc such a good and kind person could see you in this way -just maybe you were those good things she thought you were -and you just walked a little differently -maybe more confidently maybe more happily or  you acted more kind to others. 

She herself was a quiet soul. She didn’t want a big deal to be made over her. We spent hours on the phone. She listened to my problems or just things I did since our  last conversation.  We talked about her life too. Our phone conversations are my most precious memory I have with her. Being together for our many family dinnners didn’t always allow for the intimate conversations that the phone brought. We were one on one. I was hers for that time. And she was mine. 

I was always awed at how far her love spread. She was close to cousins and nephews and nieces. And not once did she make you feel like you had to be anyone but yourself and never did she make me feel compared to anyone. Everyone in her life was as important as the other. 

That doesn’t mean she never got upset with anyone. She did. On rare occasions. Usually her dismay was understandable and it came from her fierce love and protection of her people. What she wanted most was for all of us to love eachother. Especially after she was gone. 

There are a lot of us. Six sons and wives and grand and great grands, nieces and nephews and cousins and removed cousins, and friends. We all loved her and we all miss her so much. 

Since she’s been gone I’ve run the gamut of emotions. I have wondered a lot am I really as good as she thought? I know I wanted to be a better human when she was living and I continue in that endeavor. But death makes you think of the short trajectories our lives have. Some run shorter than others. Doris lived 91 years. But I’ll bet she thought it rushed by. Whether she felt that like I do I don’t know but she loved so well during her time on earth. And in my hindsight of my life I see things that I’m not proud of. Things that I wish I could undo. Am I really the person she thought I was? I don’t feel that way now. But I hold on to the fact that she loved me warts and all. Because I know she saw the lessor sides of me. Me frustrated at my kids, me stressed as we hosted family dinners, probably even me angry. She knew I wasn’t perfect and she still thought I hung the moon. That is a gift I was given from her. 

I asked my husband Kevin if he thought any of us were as good as his mother thought we were and he said “no – probably not.” We both laughed and cried a bit. Doris Sweeney saw the light in everybody. 

In hindsight there are so many things I’d like to change. I don’t like how fast the sun rises and sets these days. But on each sun rise I can try to be the better version of me – the one she saw in me. She may not be here to put shine on me when I am tarnished but I can still try everyday to be that person she saw in me. I will try.  I will. 


Selfies! Mom (Doris) and me. 

He’s ok. 

It’s taken me over a week to write about this.  The pangs of fear have ebbed. My son lived through this. Thank God…

….



I came upon this scene not expecting what I saw. Our Jeep Grand Cherokee was laying upside down against a tree in a yard maybe two miles from our home. They say many accidents happen less than two miles from home. I guess either because we travel that distance so much or maybe we let down our guards so close to home. 

I sat in the car crying hysterically -the shock of what I was seeing was horrifying even though what I knew was that my son was alive. He was alive. He lived through that. He was the one who called to tell us to come. He said he had an accident in the car. He said something about hitting a mailbox. And it was bad. He never said how bad and I never asked that as I ran around my bedroom looking for my shoes and yelling for my other teens to go find their dad because there had been an accident. 

My sweet son saw me crying as we pulled into a neighboring driveway just feet from where the car layed upside down. He opened the door to the car and leaned in to hug me. He was sobbing. We hugged and cried.  He was breathing and whole. The paramedics needed to look at him. He pulled away. 

Kevin was out of the car talking to the police. I was a mess.  A stranger who helped my son out of the car held my hand as I cried and cried.  I couldn’t control it. My son was alive yet I cried at what could have been. This outburst so unlike me yet it took me over like an alien being. I could have lost him. 

The slap in the face  of the fragility of life that wakes you up is palpable in all part of my body. Life is so fragile. I thought I knew that already. We’ve lost a number of people very special to is just recently. But this. This is my kid. What is God or the universe trying to tell me? I’m listening! 

You let your kid leave the house and say a little prayer or cross your fingers that they will be safe when they are out of your site. You look for other things to keep you busy otherwise youd worry 24/7 about them. Maybe after a while you let your guard down a little. Then boom -the call. An accident. 

Parenting is not for the weak. We don’t have any control when they walk out the door. None. All the things I was dealing with that seemed so important before this happened seemed unimportant in the aftermath. If anything you get some perspective when these things occur.  

We spent the requisite four hours in the ER where you enter a surreal world where time is suspended. It never feels like hours and hours. Yet it does. And when we leave the ER it’s like we are spit back into the real world. My son was lucky nothing but scratches. The accident caused by low blood sugar      . They checked him for diabetes but they suspected that he had hypoglycemia after running a cross country race just before getting in the car. He hadn’t eaten since his lunch hours before his run. That was out of the ordinary for him. He usually carried a snack.  

An officer came to see us in the ER to give us the accident report. No ticket was issued. He wasn’t speeding or driving wrecklessly according to witnesses. He simply went off the road a little but right near a small embankment and his reactions were muted because of the low sugar.  The car took its own trajectory through a mailbox and a yard and then flipped over.  Airbags deployed. Amazingly that Jeep as bad as it looked stayed together around him. 

My son remembers very little.  And that’s good because he isn’t afraid to drive. He knows now not to get in a car after a race without snacking first. He knows what signs to be aware of that indicate low blood sugar. Not remembering is also bad in a way because you want it to shake them up – to teach them something so that you never have to get that call. Or see that scene ever again. But I think he learned. And really we just have no control. 

If we could do it all  over I would have made sure he had snacks and some drinks before he left that morning. My husband who saw our son right after his race would have stayed around longer and probably would have taken him to the local sub shop just like he always did before our son got his license. 

But these things happen and that bites! I’m so thankful for his being ok. I’m still shaken up.  I was just putting my guard down and relaxing a bit about his driving. Now I’ll be on high alert again.  

We can’t wrap them in plastic wrap. We have to let them go and do what they are going to do. But I want to wrap them in plastic wrap but I know I can’t. And I can’t wrap my heart in plastic wrap either. 

The heart sits vulnerable in my chest … and that’s the hardest part..

Happy Birthday Dad


Today would have been my dad’s 82nd birthday. I still can’t believe he isn’t alive. He planned on living a long time. He never would have been ready to go I don’t think. In a way I’m glad his death was fast and he didn’t see it coming. Here then gone. 

I miss my dad and have grieved him plenty over this last tough year. I sometimes felt that I didn’t know how to navigate with him gone. It’s that loss of connection that leaves a hole.  That person I have never not known isn’t existent on this planet anymore. It’s still sometimes throws me for a loop. 

I think I’m to a point where I can sort through some of the boxes I was sent by my brother who went through his effects (aka stuff) and sent me things he thought I might want. That includes many photos. I have purchased albums for them and may sort through them in the fall. Some of his clothing was used to cushion the boxes and that was the hardest thing for me to deal with when I first opened the boxes. I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. 

Grief needs to be felt in order to move on I think. I don’t enjoy it. I lost three people who were very important to me in a short time. It’s been rocky. But I see that the only healthy way is to trudge through it. But we all deal with grief in our own way. We let a little in at a time. Otherwise it’s like a landslide that can knock us over and cover us and keep us from moving at all. 

I think when we lose someone we feel like we are the only ones who feel that loss. It’s because grief is a personal thing. It’s lonely.  We can talk out our feelings some and sit with others feeling the loss as welll but -for me at least -grief is deeply personal. Some days it’s lonely. But with my dad’s loss I’m processing it and I’m moving forward. 

In a tough year I have been blessed as well. I went from needing to be in bed bc of severe chronic pain to being able to move again. That thanks to a surgeon who listened and cared. I’ve been able to buy a beach house for my family. That thanks to my brother who agreed to buy me out of my dads Florida condo (and it is on Marco Island and it did survive Hurricane Irma ). My kids are doing pretty well. All working and one in community college and the other two getting ready to apply. Things are good. 

Amidst grief and loss there is so much sadness but there is joy. Lately I’ve struggled some with my feelings about many things and I’ve gone to see a threpist that I really like. This a safe place where I can open up about conflicted feelings and just vent about the last four years and get it all out. It’s a process. 

I’m sitting on the beach as I wrote this.  Something my dad would have done today I’m sure. I’m looking at the Atlantic and he likely would have been looking at the Gulf of Mexico. But we both shared a huge love of the beach. 

I think about the up and downs of our relationship and the hurts. It was quite a ride. You always want your dad to get you and if doesn’t get you then he supports your dreams. My dad didn’t always get me. I think it was easier with him to relate to guys. He was a guys guy. 

When I began my love of baseball we had lots of conversations about our teams. It was a way to bond more with him. I’m glad for that added bonus of baseball becoming my go to sport. It helped when conversations became awkward or tense. 

I began the process of forgiving my dad years ago. We were always waxing and waning. I always wanted him to just see me for me. And maybe finally he did. 

He became enamored with my photography a couple years ago after I gave him a canvas of a little mountain called Sugarloaf that was near our home in Maryland. We hiked there a few times. I think he even went there alone sometimes. I’m so glad he thought I had talent. No matter your age most of us want our parents to be proud of us. 

There are many things about my dad I don’t know. He struggled with alcohol use and it seemed he was happiest when he was buzzed. Well maybe we all are. But he loved his alcohol too much and he would never admit that it had a hold on him and as he got older I decided maybe it didn’t really matter. Let him just have fun. 

And he did have fun. He had friends and he travelled. I’m so glad for that. He even married his long time love a few years ago. That didn’t end well and it’s not a story I choose to tell now. 

My dad is buried about 45 minutes from my home. In a Catholic cemetery- next to his second wife Jean.   She passed away from Cancer in 1994 at the age of 51. His first wife is my mom. She lives with me now. He definitely wanted to have a partner. I’m not sure he ever mastered being a great husband but I know he loved all of his spouses. I’ve found my dad loved people the best way he knew how. Don’t we all try to love the best way we know how? I think it’s never perfect because we aren’t God. 

Everyone has a story. I know my dads story is deeper than I’ll ever know here on earth. But as conflicted as our relationship could be at times I am so glad he was part of my life.  He was funny and charming. He cared and I know he loved me.

 Since he has been gone I come to see how much alike we really are. My impatience and tendcies toward moodiness and my quick temper are all him.  Though I don’t often show my temper like he could. 

My dad was as big as life itself. A huge precense when he was in a room not only in stature (he was 6’4″) but also in personality.  He was more outgoing than I am and he kept up with friends better than i did. Though I am trying to be better at that.

 Stan Wilson was something. And he was my dad. 

So I’m sitting here in the beach on a beautiful day on Sept 23 remembering my dad on his birthday. I thought I could get through this without tears. But I am not. And that is ok. I cry because I loved. 

Later today I will take some of his ashes and scatter them in the bay just near our beach cottage. I want to release him into the water which he so loved. Later when the gardens are done being put in at our cottage I will scatter some of his ashes there- so he is part of Cool Breeze Cottage. I can just hear him saying “Cool Breeze! Here comes Cool Breeze!”  My high school nickname -he loved nicknames. I hated that name then but now I have three teens and I so get it! 

So happy Birthday Dad. I’d like to think you are with loved ones -your dad, Nana, Jean , keenie. And Ernie , the haleys,and mr Deveraux, mr Vogelsinger and many more. 

Happy Birthday. Your daughter here on  earth misses you so much and will love you always. 

Gallery

Car show 

When we were down at the shore for a long weekend recently, right across the street is a country club and on a Saturday they were hosting a car show that went to benefit veterans.

Kevin and I biked over to the club not knowing what to expect. But we had seen an ad asking people to come out and vote for your favorite car. We are always up for a car show. We were pleasantly surprised to see so many old cars. There were so many. We hadn’t expected that. I have a thing for old cars. 

When I was a kid my grandmother drove an old Plymouth – I remember the push buttons on the dash and I think the car was green but I don’t recall much else I was so young. I can’t believe I remember that much. But later she got a 1966 Mustang. It was a hard top with black interior and it was canary yellow. She had that car from 1966 until she died in 1987. It had 40k miles on it. My dad sold it after she passed and I was very sad to see it go. 

I remember her driving me around in it for years and then later I drove her around in it. I remember her turning the wheel with her gloved hands (because you always wear driving gloves) around and around like she was fighting with the car to get that car to turn and she was because it had no power steering. Later when I drive her I was surprised that she was able to fight so well with that steering it was hard for me to steer! And it no AC. How did we survive without AC in cars? 

Fast forward to my adult life. I don’t know when I became enamored  with old cars. Maybe it’s the memories of past rides with my Nana. Also I dated a couple guys who had a love for old cars and another friend who was a mechanic and maybe it was back then that my interest grew. I would sometimes go sit in his shop and watch him tinker with cars -old and new but I liked the old ones best.

Have you ever watched a car auction on TV? Well I have and love them! 

I don’t know the first time I went to a car show but we’ve had monthly meet ups ( where people with old cars meet up to show them off) in a local shopping center in our town of Mount Airy,MD.  The center houses an iconic(to locals) ice cream shop named Jimmy Cone. Often over the summer the cars will meet and folks from town would come check them out and also enjoy ice cream and sometimes music. 

For me there is art in these old cars. The color and curves and lines, the polished chrome and knobs and dials are all part of an era of cars that focused on beauty and performance. A car was a “she” for sure. 

Kevin would say way back when that when I turned 50 he would get me an old Mustang. Well I’m nearly 54 and that hasn’t happened. That’s not because he didn’t want to get me one it’s because it doesn’t make sense to have such a car while we are raising three teens and managing a small farm. It’s not in the budget now. But that doesn’t mean that sometime someday we won’t get a shiny old Mustang. In the meantime I get to drool over the ones I see occasionally at cars shows or on the road. 

Kevin and I both had different votes for our favorite car. I voted for the one I would most want. Bet you can’t guess! And he voted for the coolest beachy one. Another hint!  So here is a gallery of some of the cars we saw and I took photos of some of the parts of these cars that I found beautiful. 

Enjoy. Answers way at the bottom! 

My Vote the black 66 Mustang!

Kevin’s – The Woody