After four months of recovering from a broken foot, I have returned to ice skating, to a sport that is my passion, joy, peace, and connection to my beloved sisters. Elated to be back on the ice with my skating pals and teammates, I know the process will be slow. Per advice of my coach, I wore my skates around the house and got used to the feeling of the skating boot. My foot and legs are weak after months of low activity and will need to build up my strength.

I stepped on the ice, huge smile, pushed one foot, then the other, glided on the beautiful slick surface, felt the breeze through my hair, and off I went. Surprised by my agility albeit slow, I stayed a short time. Encouraged by my fellow adult skaters, I was back home on the ice. Not wanting to leave, I knew it wise and take the process step by step. The uplifting feeling cemented back in my soul!

Four months is not long, but for me, skating is such an important part of my life on so many levels. Ice skating provided the piece to share my sisters with others that forbade me to do for so many years. Celebration of Sisters, the ice-skating fundraiser, offered the backdrop to envelop my sisters back into my life, complete and continue my journey of comfort, continue my circles of comfort.

The skating arena opened many doors to me with introductions to people from all over the country and world. The lessons learned from skaters of all ages pushed me to do things I never though or believed myself capable of. I skate for me, Margie and Jane, and the crucial centrifugal force skating ignites.

When I skate, my head needs to be clear of all my old insecurities. My head must be clear of questions of doubt. How do I look out there? What do others think? Another piece is letting go of judgement I felt whole life transferred to my skating ability. I need to focus on how I feel. That is the moment I skate with freedom, fun, and confidence.

From the moment I carry my skates out of my home, into the car, the feeling of serenity and excitement surrounds me knowing I am going to any rink to ice skate. As I place my feet into my white boots with the shiny blades and lace up my skates the calm, and tranquility continues. Sometimes I am alone or often with fellow skaters chatting about a sport with shared passion and support. As the Zamboni clears the ice to make the smooth surface for our session to begin.

As I step onto the ice, it is life a magic like the song from Aladdin, “A Whole New World,” shared by my sisters and me. My happy place, my sanctuary, my safe place.

​Ice skating afforded a theme throughout my life. Wherever I seemed to be in my life, ice-skating fed the central line to my comfort, my identity, and my peace. Ice skating is the connection, the chord, and the strings that bind me to my sisters. The smooth, shining ice is a mirror to look in and vividly see my sisters and me.

This is the month of hearts and love, we mark February fourteenth with Valentine’s Day. It is my hope that everyone feels loved by someone in your life – a family member, a friend, or a coworker.

Love can be expressed in multiple ways - by a box of chocolates or flowers, phone call, a visit, a special memento, or a hand written note. Love does not need to expressed on February fourteenth but any other day or whatever feels right for you. 

This year, I have a new love to send a Valentine card. A new addition to our family, a new grandson. I had fun selecting special cards for my children and grandchildren. I recall eating red hots and sweet hearts with my beloved sisters. We carefully chose the specific color or message and had many laughs eating too much candy!

When I think of love I think of hearts and remember my beloved sister Margie. She loved all things hearts. Red hot candies, assorted heart necklaces, heart decorative pieces, and she signed every letter and card with her signature colorful hearts. Most importantly was her heart – loving, generous, and large.

I treasure the hearts that once belonged to Margie. Thanks to Margie and my daughters, my home is surrounded my hearts and love, constant daily reminders that despite what I have lost I forever have love. I treasure Margie’s Limoge hearts and the ceramic hearts crafted by my daughters at camp with the inscription, “Love you.”

Another piece of love is music. For my first performance in Celebration of Sisters, I selected Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.” I chose music that reminds me of my beloved sisters Margie and Jane, and resonates our deep love. When the music hits the deep beat of I Will Always Love You, I jumped onto my partner’s knee, outstretched my arm sharing my love with my sisters and all bereaved and lost siblings.

For those of us who have lost loved ones our hearts are filled with love and many other emotions. Where there is grief there is love. Where there is pain there is love. Where there is joy there is love.

​What does love mean to you? Who are the loves in your life? How will you share love with your special person or people? We would love to know and hope whatever you do, you feel special too.

Our new bundle of joy arrived five weeks early in the middle of December! A beautiful baby boy after a history of girls. We are over the moon and grateful he is doing well and certainly surprised everyone ready to come into the world before the end of the year in time to celebrate Chanukah.

​As a mother my heart overflowed watching my daughter hold her child. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I stood and watched the two in awe, the baby’s nose a carbon copy of his mother’s. She sat so natural beaming, glowing her husband holding her hand. The two, wonderful loving, parents navigating this journey with strength and courage.

For the first night in weeks, I slept through the night, at peace knowing everyone was healthy and happy. My mind did circle wishing my beloved sisters Margie and Jane around to share this beautiful time with me. A little pang knowing how lucky the baby will be to have a cousin (my other grandson), an aunt (my daughter) and uncle (my other son- in- law) to grow up together making special memories. He is loved unconditionally from extended family on both sides. The gift of technology and FaceTime allowing us to be part of this wonderful journey.

Day by day we watch the progress monitored by a magnificent team of devoted NICU nurses who warmly nurture the babies and parents through the process. Nini, the name I am called, had the pleasure of reading my grandson his first book. Every moment I was able to visit the NICU, my eyes did not leave him, a true miracle, the lapis blue eyes, a hand gesture to the face, a smile, a frown, a yawn, a stretch, and a peaceful sleep all snuggled up. Our little boy making progress every day and look forward to his welcome home.

I am so proud of my daughter and son-in-law who championed the unexpected early arrival, with love, and a positive attitude. The time has allowed them lessons in parenting. When the baby is ready to leave the NICU the two will be pros on how to handle a newborn. I watch them in awe.

My daughters filled a void and brought sunshine to my parents after the loss of my beloved sisters. Grandchildren remind us of a new life, a new focus, an innocence, and a new joy. We never forget what we lost, they are forever with us, part of us, and now our legacy continues, and we can meld our past with our future generations.

Last month I suffered a reaction to the COVID booster, fell and broke the fifth metatarsal in my right foot. Unable to walk the doctor instructed me to call an ambulance to take me to the emergency room. Horrified at the thought and presumed ambulance are for extremely sick people, I reluctantly called and within five minutes six EMT/firemen arrived. I apologized and they told me not to this is their job.

This is typical for me not reacting well to most vaccines. The recovery will be three months – no driving, no skating, and for now no weight on the foot. I am lucky I did not hit my head or break a hip.

I am grateful for my family who stepped in to take care showing unconditional love and devotion. I am used to being the strong one, taking care of everyone and this is not the case. I will need to be patient and ask others for help, something I am not comfortable doing. In addition to crutches, I have a scooter which is a game changer allowing me to cook, do laundry, and bustle around.

My three year old grandson was very curious about the details of the accident and listened carefully and responded, “accidents happened.” He decorated my boot by drawing with crayons and selected two of his truck stickers. I now have a distinct stunning boot!

With all that I have lost, as my late father used to say, “this too shall pass.” I am grateful I skated my final performance in Celebration of Sisters to honor my beloved sisters Margie and Jane the week prior to my fall. I am grateful I am good shape to be rocking on the crutches. I am grateful to be surrounded by people who love and care about me to assist me during this brief blimp in the road. I am grateful to be strong and resilient to handle a little adversity. I am grateful for my writing as a means to keep my mind active. I am grateful because this will make me stronger.

I hope to embrace this time to catch up on some reading, work on my second book, plan marketing and events for year two of my memoir, and will be forced to take a break. For someone who is used to high energy and always on the go, for the next few months I have no choice but to slow down.

The prize is the arrival of a new grandchild in January. I need to be patient. That, and my desire to me on the ice with my skating pals. I know my return to skating will be slow and need to kind and forgiving. I will get there!

​I wish you and yours Happy Holidays and all the best in the New Year!

I loved being an older sister to my younger sister Jane. For the first fourteen years of my life we shared a room. I loved the closeness, the talks, the sisterly fights, the unspoken words and knowing we shared a history. When we moved to a bigger home, each with our own bedroom, I missed Jane.

On November 7, 1981 that changed, I changed. After forty one years a hole remains in my heart, but not my love for my cherished sister.

Jane and I were polar opposites. When she was younger she tagged along with me, I babysat for her, protected her and in her own way she looked up to me. One of the biggest thrills was the summer she came with me to overnight camp. For the first time I got to ride the sisters bus. I had a little sister at camp. She drove me nuts coming to my bunk every day and crying about not wanting to take horseback riding. We resolved the issue but secretly I missed her visits and felt important watching out for my little sister.

Banished to the kitchen for her sweet 16, not cool enough for her friends, I took it in stride and knew Jane would outgrow the behavior. Sadly we never had a chance to watch Jane grow up. What I do know is the unconditional love based on the cards and letters I still have and cherish and read and reread. Jane told me she was proud of me when I landed my job at Bloomingdale’s out of college.

In looking at the pictures, I was astounded to see the resemblance between Jane and I. She is standing in the living room in a long navy dress, hand on the piano. It could be a dead ringer for a picture of me in college where I stand in a long navy dress. Jane had a dimple on her right cheek, but side by side no mistaken we are sisters. It warms my heart to look at this picture.

I will never know who Jane would be today and dream of her often. I had the gift of her for twenty two years. A special sister I love then, today, and forever.

October is my birthday. A day for the past forty one years filled with many mixed emotions.

I recall birthday parties with Margie and Jane held in our basement. All dressed up in our party dresses, white ruffled socks, Mary Janes, sitting at long rectangular tables with paper party hats secured to our heads with a thin elastic, eating Hoodsies with a small wooden spoon and birthday cake. Different themes of party – Come dress like your father, Come dress like an animal, or basic birthday parties with pin the tail on donkey. Margie wearing my father’s suit jacked draped over her shoulders dragging on the floor. Jane dressed up as a bunny, eyes squinting never liked having her picture taken, surrounded by adorable friends in assorted animal costumes all smiling.

I hold onto the birthday cards received from Margie and Jane – precious words of love amongst sisters read over and held close to my heart.

Birthdays in our family traditionally celebrated with a cake, candles, and happiness marking the day.

The last time I saw Jane I came home from New York to celebrate my twenty fifth birthday. For decades my birthday held a cloud of sadness. Unable to disassociate a celebration with the harsh reality of the loss of my cherished younger sister. I put up a front for my daughters and parents marking milestone birthdays with large birthday parties, trying to mask the sadness and hollowness inside. When I met with one of Jane’s friends who told me Jane would want me to celebrate, I tried to switch the directive of my birthday. I attempted to find some happiness for several years. Sometimes a new plan distracted the heartache but always in the subconscious.

Now I am conflicted. I know in my head I need to celebrate the day. I have much to be grateful for, but my heart remains with a hole and missing my sisters. There is much I want to share with my beloved sisters as our beautiful family grows.
​
Birthdays are a day to be celebrated. When my grandson calls and sings Happy Birthday to me I melt and how can I not smile? The joy on his little face, the innocence, and love. 

I do not know how I will feel this year but I have grown in allowing myself permission and compassion to feel whatever the day or week leading up to my birthday may bring. I will skate on the actual day, something that brings me joy and peace When I step on the ice and think about how Margie and Jane would be laughing how their sister Judy is now on a synchronized skating team and still as timid as she was at eight when we all started skating.  I know Margie and Jane are with me as I glide across the ice, wind blowing in my hair, each one on my shoulder, forever in my heart.

​The weather turns a bit cooler, the morning sunlight sleeps a little longer, daylight a bit shorter, we celebrate the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah. Translated, Head of the Year, a time of prayer and self-reflection. We review our actions during the past year, and we look for ways to improve ourselves, our communities, and our world in the year to come. The holiday marks the beginning of a ten day period High Holidays or Days of Awe starting with Rosh Hashanah and ending with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
​
A day I remember my sisters, Margie and Jane, traditions past, with the attempt to orchestrate new traditions cementing a balance of the two as we welcome new members of the family. Finding the right mix is not an easy fix and requires years of tweaking, challenges, and a constant work in progress. The staple are the apples and honey in the hope of a sweet new year.

Reflecting on the past year my heart beams. I am grateful for the gift of family, friends, time, dreams, and hope. A milestone birthday of sixty-five and joining the ranks of many enrolled in Medicare, a decade of the Celebration of Sisters ice skating fundraiser, the publication of Celebration of Sisters: It Is Never Too Late To Grieve, a move out of the city after eleven years, and the opportunity to meet new and wonderful people after a global pandemic. There is work to be done and more to learn and grow each day.

This past year not without challenges and mistakes, hopefully lesson learned and progress made, and where opportunities lie to do better.
​
To you and yours, I wish you a Happy, Healthy and Peaceful New Year!

August first is fast approaching and each year the anticipation up to the day causes heartache, sadness, and sweet memories of my beautiful older sister Margie. The girl with the wide smile, big brown sparkling eyes, long silky straight brown hair, and bubbling, sweet and generous personality. 

I look through the photographs from out childhood and the love amongst sisters shines through. Our father had a Polaroid camera. The birthday party favors consistent of your black and white photo dressed up from the theme of the party. Margie stands wearing my father’s suit hanging off her shoulders down to the floor, a hat to the side, her hands gestured in a pose, perpetually the actress.

I spent years being jealous of Margie – her numerous talents as a skater, and cheerleader; her slim figure and numerous friends and boyfriends. I idolized Margie and our times together filled with laughter. She knew me better than I knew myself.

One of my favorite memories I would like to share, an excerpt from Celebration of Sisters: It Is Never Too Late To Grieve, epitomizes our relationship.
 
Margie was ten and I was eight. We went snooping for Chanukah presents in the basement in my father’s office. Typical of our relationship, Margie was the boss. When we opened the door to the basement, I wanted to chicken out. 

“Margie, we can’t do this. We’re going to get into trouble.”

Margie smirked. “Come on, Judy, no one will know. It will be our secret—promise you won’t tell?”

“I promise,” I said.

As we crept down the steep linoleum stairs to our father’s study—Margie first, then me—we pinky swore never to tell. We stood in the front of the door for a moment, then Margie twisted the knob and pushed it open. Sure enough, the presents were stacked on the desk. We quickly rushed over and squealed with excitement over the large boxes and stifled our laughter so we wouldn’t get caught.

Margie grabbed a medium-sized box and carefully started peeling the tape off the corner.

“Margie! What are you doing? They’ll know we opened them,” I gasped. I thought we were just on the hunt for the presents, not knowing that she had intentions to open them.

“Don’t worry, you scaredy-cat,” she giggled. Then she continued to peel the paper back.

“How are we going to rewrap them?”

“Look, the tape peeled right off,” said Margie. “We’ll put them back just as we found them.”

My heart pounded as I watched her pull back the paper to reveal the name underneath. It was an Easy-Bake Oven. I was so excited, and together we peeled back the tape on all of the presents: Creepy Crawlers and button-making toys, which were the cat’s meow.

For Chanukah, the presents were placed at our assigned seats at the dining room table. As we each opened one present, Margie and I acted surprised. “Wow, just what I wanted. Thank you so much!” We ran to give our parents a kiss. Our performances were worthy of an Oscar award. Margie eyed me with a twinkle in her big brown eyes. My non-poker face did not give us away. We held this secret between us until decades later when it was finally revealed to our parents.

My dear sister Margie, I will always love you. You will forever be beside me and in my heart.

Dreams do come true! I never imagined at 65 to be attending skating camp. I spent five glorious days  at the Music City Adult International Adult Skating Camp, The Scott Hamilton Skating Academy in Nashville, TN. My nerves off the chart. This was my first trip in three years since COVID and will I have the stamina to keep up? I skate three times a week for an hour, at camp I will skating at least three hours a day. I am excited to with fellow adult skaters. The energy and excitement from the skaters and coaches is electric.
We begin our day with a fantastic off ice warm up led by Snow Urbin, a ballroom dancer with grace. At the completion of the warmup we hold hands, form a large circle, and are asked what one word describes how we feel. For me the word is gratitude. Next we proceed to patch tracing figure eights on the ices practicing edges. A few sessions graced by the talented Scott Hamilton giving us valuable insight on skating and the sport of figure skating – the basics.  Next, an ice warm up from Ice Flow, Dance and a drills exercise proceeding single file up and down the ice four lines varying elements – all skills in my toolbox.
The remainder of the morning wonderful workshops to chose from including spins, jumps, moves in the field dance, and choreography. Your choice and the opportunity to try some other discipline of skating. Often times I took a break and/or sat and watch in awe of my fellow skaters. Lunch served every day and a good time to relax, rest your feet and chat with fellow skates. Each day meeting and getting to know more of the skaters, sharing skating stories, all ages, all levels from all over the country.
Freestyles sessions filled the afternoons and the opportunity to take private lessons from an esteemed coaching staff which I took full advantage of. I participated in the group choreographed Spice Girls number and performed in the exhibition along with twenty of my fellow skaters, and practiced during my private lessons. I revisited ice dance and like riding a bike, I was pleasantly surprised it came back to me!
Best of all – thank you Christine – the very first time ever I have sparkle on my skates -purple of course, my favorite color!
Thank you to all my fellow adult skaters – you inspire me, you encourage me, you share our passion for figure skating, and you are wonderful human beings each with your own unique story.
Thank you to Music City for welcoming us, hosting us and to everyone who made the week so spectacular. Thank you to the coaching team for giving us you unwavering generosity, kindness, knowledge and fun – Kaitlyn Weaver, Elin Schran, Russ Witherby, Snow Urbin, Paula Trujllo, Peter Sasmore, Shawnee Smith, Becki Hendren, and Scott Hamilton. A special shout out to Paula Trujillo for all your hard works and efforts – the swag was great!
I am so grateful to be able to perform something I never envisioned doing. To my other exhibitors, you were all spectacular and your love of the sport shone through!
My heart is full of beautiful memories, new friendships, new skating knowledge that I will treasure forever.