Tuesday, March 07, 2023

Amintiri de Pret, ca Niște Bijuterii ...

Am prieteni și membri ai familiei (părinții mei, de pildă) care au crescut cu cate 10+ mătuși. Noi am avut doar una - pe sora tatei. 


Ca multe  alte relații din familia noastră, am fost mereu apropiată de ea - suntem o familie unită, care nu se lasă intimidată de depărtarea fizică, oricât de mare ar fi aceasta. 


Mătușa noastră, singura sora a tatei, a fost mereu o parte integrantă din familia noastră. Mereu alături de noi, la nevoi, la bucurii, la petreceri și ocazii mai puțin vesele - nu-mi pot imagina familia noastră fără ea! 


Amintirile sunt multe din cei 47+ de ani de viață alături de ea. Una din cele mai frumoase amintiri este atunci când, în copilărie, mergeam la ziua ei, în martie. Casa era plina de flori, cei mari se adunau în sufragerie în jurul mesei pline de bunătăți, iar eu și sora mea ne refugiam în dormitor. Acolo, într-un dulap care părea ca un seif secret, plin de comori ascunse, descopeream colecția mătușii de bijuterii! Alese tot una și una, cu pietre prețioase de care nu auzisem niciodată, una mai frumoasă și mai speciala ca alta, descopeream pandantive, lanțuri, coliere, brățări, inele de tot felul de mărimi și modele - pungute si cutii care păreau ca nu se mai termină. Le admiram și le încercam - ele părând enorm de imense pe mâinile noastre de copii - ore întregi, pierzând cu totul trecerea timpului. 


Peste ani, ne trezeam cu câte un cadou de ziua noastră care semăna teribil de mult cu vreo bijuterie din colecția neprețuită pe care o cunoșteam așa de bine. În fiecare an, cu fiecare vizită, colecția parcă arată altfel. Și astăzi, după mulți ani de zile, și după multe daruri, mă-ntreb oare câte din aceste comori le mai are?! 


Fiecare piesă din colectia ei care mi-a revenit spune câte o poveste și îmi amintește de zilele de odinioară în care eram cu toții împreună, prinși în coconul cald și plin de siguranță al unei familii unite. 


Există o istorie a fiecărei piese de bijuterii - fie ca e legată de zodia noastră, de culorile  preferate a celor pentru care este cumparată, fie ca e o piesă “care se asorteaza cu brățara pe care mi-a dat-o anul trecut”, aceste mici comori au viața lor, unică și plină de farmec, și încorporează până la ultimul detaliu eleganța și gustul mătușii mele pentru ceea ce se numește frumos și artă. 


De ziua ei, îi doresc din suflet o zi frumoasă așa ca o bijuterie de pret: plină de înțeles și de istorie, bogată și darnică așa cum este și ea. 


La multi ani, Rodi! Te iubim mult și îți dorim mulți, mulți ani sănătoși în continuare! 



Câteva din micile comori dăruite de mătușa mea, peste ani și ani. Aș vrea să îi dea viața comori însutite, mai mult sau mai puțin materiale, în anii care vor urma ... 

Monday, February 27, 2023

The Past?! No. More: the Future!

Dad used to say that birthdays and New Years are great times to "draw the line" and remember how far you've come.

So, today, as I celebrate you, I am also celebrating all the memorable, sometimes hilarious, sometimes scary times we have shared. I can't help but feel grateful and blessed that you were born to share all these times with me!

I look back at all the years that have gone by since that fateful day when we glanced at each other in the newspaper hallway. I would have lost good money if someone would have told me we'd be where we are today on that day. And I am glad I would have lost!

Do you remember ...

  • Our first camping trip on Kerr Lake (2008) - I could not believe it that Mr. “Comfort Man” agreed not only to a tent-camping trip with me on Kerr Lake, but also agreed to it in the middle of Bug Season, North Carolina. This was back when we were just “work friends” and not even dating. I guess a man does a lot when he’s (somewhat secretly) in love. You worked tirelessly for days to prepare to make sure we'd have everything, but still forgot your newly-bought, much-talked-about lantern at home. Maybe that was a good omen since our life together has been just that: a mix of well-planned years as well as feeling in the dark. Who knows?!
  • That hot July 4th in the Moab desert, when we rented a hot-red Jeep Wrangler to drive around Canyonlands, totally off-grid, when it was so hot that our ice melted in the hard-top cooler inside the car with the A/C blasting? We had no cell-signal, our water boiling hot, 30 miles away from any paved roads, and truly I thought we will just die in the middle of nothing and they’ll find our bare bones, meat shriveled up from heat, maybe a week later, we'd cook that fast!
  • The “big proposal” in a poetic and friendly spot called “The Devil’s Kitchen”, in the middle of nothing, atop a mountain desert in Utah?
  • Our wedding day when the wind picked up so strongly it was impossible to light our unity candle. Our minister said “it’s mostly symbolic” and everyone laughed, as in "isn't it all?!". Two people had to hold the screen behind the "unity table" so as not to be blown away by the wind. In the nervousness of it all, I had to also drop your ring and scratch it before I could put it on your finger. Should we say "ominous" again?! Hmm ...
  • That time when we drove to Bryce Canyon for our first anniversary, having booked a hotel and paid for it and everything, and arrived around 11PM (after work, tired, and weary, driving through the desert with no soul around) and finding that the hotel is “closed for the winter” (April is “winter” in Utah, I guess!). Good thing that another, smaller, local hotel was open right across the street, and almost empty and could put us up for a couple of nights. That "luck" followed us years later, when we tried checking into another hotel we thought we made reservations for in Boone, NC, only to be told they have no record of us. Again, we were lucky that we found another room nearby, despite it being Labor Day weekend. Life is just fussy enough for us to make us remember it, isn't it?!
  • Why is it that our weirdest memories are hotel-related mishaps?! Hmm ... Like that time when we were haunted in our hotel room in Blowing Rock, NC.
  • The time when we flew to Europe and we almost got stuck there in the middle of the French airline workers’ strike. We got rerouted through Germany on our way back, only to have me detained and patted down three times before allowing me to book the flight to the US.
  • The first time you took me to a casino in Mesquite, NV, the day I got laid off and on my first try, the first time in my life when I touched a slot machine, I won $20. I reckon life knew I needed it that day ... 
  • We have all the luck with the snow, too - especially hitting us at the least expected times: on top of Grandfather Mountain in early November (early for North Carolina for sure), when the snowstorm wind got us locked out of the car, we got snowed in in Deer Valley, UT one year and then again in Jackson Hole, WY the following year both on Memorial Day weekend (end of May). Someone up there must know you’re from Michigan and that you of all people can take it. Little do they know that 20+ years of The South melted you up.
  • That time when we rode the motorcycle on the Alpine Loop in Utah (25 miles away from home) and our battery died in Lehi (50 miles away from home), on our way back in the middle of a scorching hot July summer day!  We had to walk our cycle to the nearest grocery store to get into some A/C for comfort, and wait for a tow truck. But how available is a tow truck on July 4th?! I have never in my life spent that many hours in a grocery store without buying a thing, let’s just say that. 
  • That time when we took your mom for her 70th birthday to Niagara Falls and the only restaurant open for dinner was in a ... discount t-shirt store?! Yeah, classy all right! 
  • That time you walked into my parents’ kitchen for the very first time, at night, famished from a 24 hour trip across the world, grabbed your first morsel of meat sitting on the table and said “I love this! What is it?!” We all answered: “Cow tongue!”
  • The time when we ended up in a shipping container in Bucharest, in the middle of a foggy, wet, November night, trying to rent a car on the black market from these kids who declared the container their very legit and very official “office”. 
  • Do you remember the wind- and sand-storm in Sulphur Springs, Montana, in the middle of the prairie, waiting for Donna the Buffalo to start playing at the very originally named “Red Ants Pants Music Festival”? I have never eaten that much dust in my life! I swear, 10 years later, I am still dusting off my camera and my backpack, 10 years later!
  • That time you volunteered to slice lemons for a friend’s wedding and you sliced your finger instead, bad enough to require stitches?! You never touched a mandoline again, but I can't remember if you even ever attempted to slice lemons either! If life hands them to us, we eat them whole nowadays, it seems.
  • You remember how you did not die, despite all your protests and refusal to advance, when I made you climb up to Timpanogos Cave (6700 feet) in Utah, nor to the end of the South Mountains Park trail in North Carolina?! I love when you just trust me ...
  • That time we saw the black bears hang out in the trees off a trail in Georgia?! 
  • That time when you fed the iguanas in Honduras? 
  • That time we thought we bought a turkey breast and all we got was turkey nuggets in a bundle and we had a house (almost) full of people to feed for Christmas? Hmm... yeah - good times! 
  • That time we were so excited to see Willie Nelson in concert and he walked off the stage and never returned?! 
  • That time when we lobbied together in the halls of Congress in DC for FH Awareness (serious) and made fun of the Ben & Jerry's cow decal outside Senator Bernie Sanders' office (not so serious)?! And that is so you: a mix of stern elegance and casual comedian all rolled-up into one!
  • That time when we had our first Thanksgiving dinner in our brand-new house in North Carolina with an unboxed, newly-delivered but uninstalled yet dishwasher in the middle of the dining room? 
  • Our big trek in our camper, The Pup, across America?! Boy, how I want to do that again soon!
  • That time when we judged the beers at the Athens Beer Festival in Ohio and actually felt like we knew what we were doing? I guess everyone thinks this after a few sips of craft beer?!

But much, much more than the many times we have spent together, I love the possibilities of what is coming ahead of us! There will be hard times but I am sure as I am of these two hands typing this that there will be good times too. I just pray for health and peace and strength and cannot wait to see the future. With you, hand in hand.


Whether we are climbing a mountain, shooting birds, making dinner, or buying a car, a house, or a camper, I know we’ll have a good time and live to tell the stories for whoever is there to listen. Even if it's just us, recollecting.


Whether I am mourning a friend, a parent, or a pet, or I am going through some near-death health scares, I know you’ll be there, stronger than the Rock of Gibraltar to support me.


I love you with all my stitched up heart. I would be lost, scared, confused and adrift without you.


Thanks for being you.


And thanks for being mine.  



Happy birthday, my love! Can't wait for the next 50+ years ... 


Saturday, February 11, 2023

Memories on your birthday ...

A hotter than hot wedding in Romania one August 20+ years ago. Yours. Your insistence that you must remain in your groom’s suit-and-tie, even at 114F. Hottest day in Romania in something like 40 years! Commitment. 

Learning how to drive together and passing our exams almost at the same. All encouraged if not forced by dad. 


Living in the off-the-beach house in Costinesti all together  - piled up together in one room like hippies in a commune. So young - both you and me, my sister and your brother ... Long nights in clubs - loud music and tons of vermouth.


Traveling over the years - watching each other travel and sharing impressions. Almost missing trains and planes and living to tell the tales. Oh, the stories!


Discovering Canada and sharing the acutest, sharpest pain of a 40-degree-below day ... The inability to breathe. The frost-bite-like symptoms of simply walking outside to see what the air “feels like”. It doesn’t. It just paralyzes you. The howling wind of a Quebec winter night. The insulating of the windows, taping them shut to keep the frosty air out. 


Your first Canadian car with wires coming out of the dashboard. The lessons. Slow and steady till you came into your own adulthood. Then, head of a beautiful family. Becoming a dad. And me, an aunt. And then again, times two. 


Both of us - watching our hair gray and our forehead wrinkles deepen. Learning, discovering. Together. And through it all sewing this long thread that unites us through the decades ...


Walking up the steep, gruesome, penance-like stairs of Mont Royal. Riding the mountain cable car in Mont Tremblant. Walking across the swinging bridge of Ste. Anne and Montmorency waterfalls. Sharing with us your favorite spots in Quebec City and Vieux Port in Montreal. Discovering Canada through your naturalized eyes. Your adoptive country. And then again, sharing my new home country back...


Riding the ferry to Toronto Island Park on Lake Ontario. Bracing the sharp, cutting wind of the Great Lakes in November.


Always enjoying delicious food along the way - everywhere. This family is nothing if not a bunch of indulging gourmands and you fit in it well. Thank goodness! 


Traveling together to dad’s last birthday. The unbounded joy of togetherness, right alongside a deep sadness of the inevitable end possibly coming - the old age, the wear and tear, the loss of function in those we left behind in Romania ... Shared joys and sadness, just the same. 


Winery hopping and wine and beer tastings. Indulging some more. Enjoying the simple and complex things of life. Food. Drinks. Good movies. 


Discussing politics and wondering what the heck went wrong in the world. Respecting. Each other and wondering where the respect of the world was lost and how. Growing old. Together. Side by side. Our families becoming one. Our destinies united ...

Almost a whole week of Christmas cooped up in one house. Eating. Drinking. Watching too much tv. Talking. Remembering. Bonding. 


How we (almost) share a birthday. Today.


All of these and more ... Memories we both made together. Adventures of the mind and body. Reminders of where we’ve been and tracing a map of what happened. 


More than our shared history and memories, I love our honesty. Nothing fake. No pretense. Even when it’s hard. We speak the truth, you and I. The most precious gift! Knowing you, knowing me ... I know it will persevere in the years to come! 


On your special day, I wish for more memories and more journeys. I wish that the special bond we forged over these 25+ years will continue to remind us where we’re from, where we’re going and that we’re family. And more than anything: I wish every happiness you wish for yourself!


Happy birthday, G.!



Montreal 2015: I love when you light up around your boys. You do 'dad' well! 

Friday, February 10, 2023

Small Guy. Big Personality.

Yeah, you are “the Small Guy” because in my eyes, at least for another year or two, you are still “small” in every way. You are not as small as a year ago, or even as yesterday, sure, but in the general scheme of things you are small. And "perfect in every way", as you would say about polar bears. Or cats. Or owls.  


When people ask me to describe you, I just sigh a deep sigh. How can I fit such a huge (physically small) personality into just a few words? There are no words ... 


I say things like: Kevin is amazingly ... his own person. He is 12 going on 50! Before anything, he is wise beyond his years, self-possessed and he has a deep sense of who he is and where his life is going. Before anything, it takes loads of effort to impress him. Even at 12, he will tell you in no ambiguous terms how lame you are, or how sexist, or blind you are at the diversity of the world around you. How careless and messy you are when you can’t pick up after yourself. 


He’ll tell you how much you still have to learn about the world around you. He will scold you like you’re the child and he’s the grown-up. He is cool and collected as well as passionate and irate. He frowns upon your every lame move and breaks into song and cheer completely unprompted and unannounced. He is not one thing or another. He is never one-note and boring. He is a constant wonder and a constant guess ... 


He knows what he likes (books, animals, food, comfort, among too many other things to enumerate), he knows what he is about (serious, punctual, reliable, hard working, more responsible than the adults around him sometimes), and he also knows what he’s not about and what he hates (being told what to do, waking up too early in the morning, boiled broccoli, people talking too much around him when all he wants is quiet time). 


And that, dear Kev, is where you lose me: I wonder whether our blood is truly flowing through your  little veins when you complain about people talking too much around you. But it must be, because you’re the spitting image of your grandfather, so I know better. 


I also tell people about your incredible talent to carry on interesting conversations about anything, your amazing knowledge about animals, plants, anything that lives. Your interest in understanding the living world around you, your maturity, about your being kind and caring and protecting towards our planet and our environment ... 


Discovering you every year, seeing you grow and explore the world, watching you sift through everything that the world throws at you and choosing what it makes sense to you, choosing what gives you pleasure, what grounds you, what makes you whole is a privilege I will be forever grateful for. I love all your discoveries, from your new axolotl pet, to the fact that you love coffee so much (you’re definitely in the right family there!), to the fact that you read more than I ever do and that you can carry on a conversation with the vocabulary of a college student already. 


Just like you noticed a couple of months back, the past year “tried you” with all sorts of bad happenings. I wish you a much, much better year ahead, full of happiness, joy, and overflowing with beauty, kindness and every good wish you have for yourself. And never forget your strength!


When I am at my saddest, I will always remember Christmas morning at my house last year: when you slipped on your PJ’s and your flannel robe, you poured your coffee and made a half-serious and stern face, half-goofball and joker (just like your grandpa) and demanded a picture by the tree, saying something like: “Let’s get into my robe and take a picture looking like a retired old dad.” 


Thank you for giving me a front-row seat at this wonderful journey you call your life. I know it will never be boring ... Love you, sweet Kevs! 



December 2022: My small "retired old dad"

Saturday, February 04, 2023

Wrightsville Beach, NC

My mind is very fragmented lately. I have struggled to write complete sentences and the truth comes to me in snippets, much like a bulleted list. Without numbers. Without a specific order of events. 


These are my random thoughts on our recent trip to Wrightsville Beach, NC. 


  • Hotel beds are the worst. Why do they make them so back-breaking soft? 

  • Off-season beach season should be the most popular. Who needs the heat, the noise, the sand when you can have the beach to yourself to roam and any restaurant open with no waiting time? But I guess if this would be the peak season, this all would change?! Hmmm ... 

  • Falling asleep to the sound of the waves. Who needs a noise machine? 

  • I still love the cheap t-shirt beach stores where everything is always on sale. You can never have too many cheesy painted t-shirts (for the days when you decide you’re bored enough you want to start painting your cabinets) and too many $1 thong flip-flops. Summer is long in North Carolina. 

  • Overheard in a coffee shop (paraphrase): “All I have left is to prepare for class this semester. Which is basically a lot of reading. But it’s kinda odd because all I have to read are heavy books. Like, you never thought you’d ever say ‘boy, I am really pumped about reading this book on ... suffering!’, ya know?!” Laughter follows. (Drift restaurant in Wrightsville Beach)

  • The best seafood gumbo vegan outside of the fish is at The Oceanic at the Crystal Pier. Best view in town too, right on the ocean.

  • It’s a mystery to me where birds go when we go to the beach. You see all these gorgeous waterfowl photography everywhere from the fancy hotels to your dentist’s office and you’re thinking: “sure, I can do that! Just get out there on the marsh, point and shoot.” Only you can’t. Nope. Not birds at any rate. I watched the sunrise from my 7th story hotel room and there were hundreds of water birds on the beach. I get dressed and get out there to “shoot them up close” ... not a one! Ridiculous! And that curse followed us everywhere else all weekend. Almost. A small pond in the middle of the Airlie Gardens saved the weekend. 

    Finally birds! At Airlie Gardens.

  • I have never found so many absolutely perfectly whole sea-shells in a 20 minute walk on the beach. And I didn’t even pick up all the ones we spotted.

  • When coming out of The Oceanic, a random gentleman with a zoomy-zoom camera propped up on the railing told us he is waiting to see the launch of a SpaceX rocket somewhere South from where we were standing. Now, we were about 600 miles (more than 8 hours) away from where the rocket was launching, so this sounded highly dubitable, but we decided to wait for the rocket. 

And oh, wow!, were we in for an experience! The rocket, like a crisp white beam of light, came out from low on the Southern horizon and ascended so incredibly fast, leaving behind a thick and luminous train, so long that given the distance we were aware it was from us, might have been hundreds of miles long in the sky.
At one point, we could see it drop its boosters that had propelled it into space, and then the two boosters, like mini-rockets themselves, made their own train of light from the dropping point all the way back towards Florida where they eventually landed.
At some point, it looked like the rocket stopped “writing” on the sky with its white, luminous train, and it kept only a short “tail”, almost like a comet flying high above the water. Although we could not hear the launch nor feel the earth shake, it was still breathtaking. Definitely the highlight of this weekend, regardless of however many successful pictures of birds we might have gotten. 


Sometimes what you get out is not what you go there for. 


When we left our house, we were not too eager to be on this trip, for various reasons. But once seeing this miracle of human engineering, just a token of what is possible once you venture out beyond your front door, you realize that no matter how sad or poorly you feel, as long as your body is still able, you should get out and take in the amazement that the world still has in store for you. 


The synchronicity was moving:

We saw the SpaceX Falcon Heavy on January 15 - a Sunday - outside The Oceanic Restaurant in Wrightsville Beach, NC. The rocket launch had been scheduled for January 14th (the day before) and it had gotten delayed till the following day, for “reasons not immediately disclosed” (if you follow the SpaceX launches, they have a good record of punctuality). We knew absolutely nothing of this, as we don’t follow rocket launches. 


We had come to The Oceanic the day before, but we could not get in because they were too busy, so we decided to come the following day a bit earlier to have a chance at eating dinner there. And a place we picked totally randomly, and a day and time we picked totally by accident paid off in a big, big way. We took the experience as a reminder to stop making plans (or hiding from them) and get out there and embrace life and wonder just as they are: always there, always waiting, always in need of nothing but eyeballs to enjoy it.



The rocket and the two boosters putting on a spectacle as seen from Wrightsville Beach, NC on January 15, 2023. Who needs New Year's fireworks when you can have this?! 


Thursday, January 19, 2023

25 Years

25 years ago today, I boarded a KLM flight from Bucharest, Romania, where I said "goodbye" to my tearful parents, sister, and a childhood friend, en route to Amsterdam for a brief layover. After that, I boarded a Northwest flight to Atlanta, GA onward to my very first visit to the USA. 

My mom would tell you that after I passed passport control in Bucharest, I waved them goodbye one last time, and headed for the gate, without ever glancing back. 

I came here on a Business Visa that was to expire in exactly 4 months, on May 19. On that day, January 19, 1998, I had no way to envision that you could build a while life in as little as 4 months! But dad was very adamant: "You make it or break it in those 4 months. You might never see another visa again, so make it worthwhile!" I was not yet 23. 

My 'to do' list was pretty short, but ballsy, nonetheless. I didn't know what the future would bring, but if the future offered me to stay in America (which was my dad's wish for me ever since I could remember), I wanted a couple of few things:

  • A legal status. 
  • A job small enough to be able to perform with my education at the time (English major graduate) without having to go back to school, and big enough to afford me to live a decent life - a small place to live, a small but reliable car, some pocket money to travel once or twice a year.
  • Some sort of treatment for my genetic condition which was predicting that I would not make it past the age of 25. I so wanted to live past that fast-approaching age! 
  • To be free. To be truly free to be who I am, without apologies. To not pay bribes for the rest of my life for things that are my rights. To be free to speak my mind without fear that some government functionary would take their power tripping on me just 'cause they can. 
That was about it. You can call it "my American dream".

Northwest is long gone - I almost cried when it became Delta. That was my plane! My Mayflower, if you will! I have learned more things than I can count, and I have aged by many decades, physically, and by centuries emotionally and mentally. I have had my moments at the top of the mountain, victorious and lonely, and I have had more joy than anyone should be allowed in a lifetime. I have been truly blessed. I have had my heart broken more times than I can count. By people, by love, by governments, by times ... But all in all, I have felt fortunate and oh, so undeservingly and hopelessly lucky! 

On such an important day for me, I don't feel accomplished, I don't feel short-changed, nor disappointed that I have not done more. I feel at peace. I truly hope I see many more anniversaries, but if this were to be my last one, I'd be pretty pleased. More than anything - I feel tired and ready for more - all at the same time. 

I hope that the next 25 will be half as eventful as these first 25. And today, I am without a "to do" list. Today, I just want to never forget that when you truly mean to accomplish something, 4 months is enough! 


It was a plane like this one that brought me over on my first journey. I will never forget it! 


Saturday, December 31, 2022

2022 - The Year of the Big Loss

 There are many superstitions about starting a new year right. 


You need to have a full glass of something at midnight (preferably champagne), to ensure you’re rich all next year. (according to both Romania and America)


You cannot be alone on New Year’s - it’s better to be surrounded by people, so as not to be always alone in the new year. (Romania)


You need to eat grapes at midnight, for the same reason. (Romania)


You need to open the front door wide open to let the old year out and let in the new year. (Ireland, I think)


You need to eat collard greens and black-eyed peas for health and riches. (in the American South. What if you grew up in a place where neither grows?!)


I never really paid too much attention to these, other than just acknowledging them as oddities or interesting facts. But after this year, I am now a convert that will look for any sign that will foretell a better year than the next. 


The way I started this year (2022) and the way this year evolved and ended - I never want to repeat any of it any time soon! 


We started the year in an Airbnb condo on an island in Georgia. We were alone on New Year’s Eve night, at midnight, and the remote for the TV was fried, so we could not even put CNN on to watch the NYC ball drop! We had no champagne, because we were sure that we could spend midnight at the bar of the condotel we were staying at. Only they kicked us out literally 15 minutes before 12 midnight. Who does this on New Year’s Eve night?! 


The next day, we had reservations for brunch on the beach at the Echo restaurant in St. Simons Island, GA. When we got on the patio, which is right on the beach of the Atlantic ocean, there was no ocean: the beach was swallowed into the thickest fog I have ever seen. I lived on the beach in The South for close to a year, in all sorts of weather and I have not seen the fog so thick where you could not see the ocean. It was  a still day, so you could not even hear the ocean. It was just as eerie as a Stephen King novel. If we started walking towards the ocean, we could have gone blindfolded because we could not have seen where it started and the sand ended. 



January 1, 2022 - St. Simons Island, GA

I thought even then - “I wonder what this means, that the first thing I see on the first day of the year, for the first meal of the year is ... well, pretty much nothing?!” I was thinking this might be foretelling something ominous, some sort of a warning. And now, in hindsight,  I know it did. 


After breakfast, we went to visit the area and we took this longest walk through a cemetery. Talk about strange and eerie: why would anyone want to walk through a cemetery for their first walk of the year?! The truth is: we didn’t know it would end up being a cemetery: we wanted to see the Christ Episcopal Church, one of the oldest churches in Georgia. It just so happened that it was in the middle of a graveyard, draped in spooky Spanish moss, like a death bride. 



January 1, 2022 - The cemetery at Christ Episcopal Church - St. Simons Island, GA


In the evening, someone had tipped us off to go to this exclusive golf course resort and listen to a bagpiper play at dusk. It was the most beautiful scenery and the most beautiful spectacle, but I couldn't help but think that bagpipes always sound sad, they always are better played at funerals. Again, I thought for a minute that as beautiful and serene as that moment was, it was also deeply sad. 



January 1, 2022 - The bagpiper at The Lodge at Sea Island Resort - St. Simons, GA


Although a small piece of me almost tasted the foreshadowing of all the events that were to come this year, it’s now clear to me that all those odd superstitions that I have known all my life, might hold some truth! 


It was a rough year, personally and world-wide. Covid is still out there, hurting people, affecting our family multiple times this year. Some of my friends are caught in the Ukrainian war, and I fear for them every minute. Our collective health has been shaky and for some has gotten worse. Some dear friends have been affected by cruel diseases. 


There has been a lot of loss this year, for us, for the world, and for those around us. A lot of unexpected death and loss of freedom, loss of values, loss of (more)  friends. Painful, deep, unconsolable loss. 


To top it all off, I lost my dad. My North Star. I am now getting ready to not only start a new year, but a new chapter in my life: it will be the “After-Dad Chapter”. How we do life without him is a mystery to me. This was the ultimate blow. The kick in the stomach.


Part of me wants to go back on that beach in Georgia and demand a do-over. But dad always hated quitters and always taught us to not live with regrets. We must march on. Somehow.


There were some silver linings at time: this was the year of wild horses, the year of being around family four times (unheard of in the past 25 years). The year we celebrated dad’s 70 years on this planet, when many people (and doctors) didn’t see him making it past 40. The year of Tori Amos and Brevard, NC. The year of walking the streets of Vienna with Aaron for the first time and of running into wild bears on the trails of The Appalachia in Georgia. 


Like any year - it was good and bad. Some more bad than usual, but the beauty and hope are still there, even if just shyly, barely gurgling under the surface. Even if coy and unconvincing. 


This new year’s eve night, I have champagne, I have grapes, and collards, and black-eyed peas. We will still be alone at home but, Duke Power permitting, we will be watching the ball drop with millions of others (we stocked up on batteries for the remote, too). And we will be with family on some sort of an online device. 


And I hope that, God willing, I will restart a tradition that dad did with us, as children: to go to church on New Year’s Day. It’s so easy to do in Romania where all the churches are open around the clock every day, but so hard to do here. But this year, New Year’s Day is a Sunday, so I'm hoping this can happen. Maybe this will be the first baby step into starting to do life without dad. Maybe it is for a reason ... We cling on to all sorts of “things” when at a loss, blinded, and helpless. So, just maybe. 


But whether I believe all of this or not, I pray for a better year for us all. A healthier, fuller, more meaningful year ahead, in all sorts of good ways. 


Happy 2023, everyone! 




Wednesday, December 07, 2022

Dad. An Obit.

A couple of people asked me if dad had an obit and if they could read it. Romanians don’t write obits, at least not in the same fashion as they do here, in The States. The most they do is a death announcement which is pretty much a matter-of-fact statement that a person has passed with brief information about the time and the place of their wake and funeral. We didn’t publish a death announcement for my dad because our funeral home strongly advised us that a Facebook announcement would be much more effective than any newspaper announcement because “no one reads the paper nowadays.” So, we didn’t write one. 

But I thought of writing an obit, of sorts, myself, for those of you who might be interested in who the man was. Here it goes. 



Corneliu Afloarei (“Baby”), age 70, of Iasi, Romania, passed away on November 22, 2022. 

Baby was born on July 19, 1952 in Targu Neamt, Neamt County, Romania. He was the second and youngest child of Sterian (a construction engineer) and Ioana (a registered nurse). Due to the nature of his father’s occupation, he spent his early childhood living in several counties of Romania, as his father was assigned to various construction projects. He spent time mostly in the Neamt and Suceava Counties, in the Eastern Carpathian Mountains. His life-long love of the mountains started during those early days. 

When he was in middle school, the family relocated to Iasi - the largest city in the province of Romanian Moldova and today the second-largest city in Romania. Mostly known for being a university center, Iasi offered opportunities for good education and a slower-paced, less industrialized city. Baby attended the Vasile Alecsandri high-school where he excelled in writing, history, and sports. Being extremely competitive, he played soccer and track during his high-school years. 

After a failed attempt at getting into law school because of the unfair disqualification of his entrance paper (due to an ink blotch), he turned to his other passion: animals. He was admitted to the University of Agricultural Sciences and Veterinary Medicine “Ion Ionescu de la Brad”, the Faculty of Food and Animal Sciences in Iasi. He graduated in 1979. 

In 1973, he married Anișoara, also of Iasi, who he met a couple of years prior on a train headed to the beach city of Constanta. She was to be the love of his life, his soulmate and partner for almost 49 years. 

During college, he worked as a music DJ in dance clubs, as a family photographer, and as a construction handyman, to support his small family while going to college full time. His first daughter was born in 1975 and his youngest was born in 1978 - during his college years. 

After graduating college, between 1979 and 1990, he worked on various government-owned farms in the counties of Galati and Iasi, managing chicken, cow, or pig farms or supervising meat production in slaughterhouses and meat producing plants. He always believed in keeping the animals happy and healthy and in treating them with dignity and compassion, even if they were meant for human consumption. These were hard times, where food, especially meat, was severely regulated by the Communist government. On a backdrop of penury and constant lack of food for the larger population, he found ways to keep his family and those close to them fed. During those days he used to say “if you have food, you have everything” as food was in such great demand and ever shorter supply. He worked hard, under the hard conditions of an overbearing and restrictive government, in the cold of the long Romanian winters, to ensure his bonuses (paid in food rewards rather than money) were paid on time. He shared those bonuses with anyone that needed to feed their family. 

In 1990, after the Romanian Revolution of December 1989, he changed careers and became the owner and CEO of his own company, Total Gaz. Total Gaz provided heating boilers for small businesses - an industry that was just then created, after Romanians found new ways to stop being dependent on the Government’s hot water and heating services and became more independent. He worked for Total Gaz until his partial retirement in 1999 when he also sold his share in the business. After that, he worked as a consultant for the Casa Design, SRL, a company similar to the one he sold that provides heating systems to residential customers. He completely retired in 2017, at the age of 65. 

Although his Christian name was Corneliu, virtually everyone who ever met him called him “Baby” - a moniker that his mother gave him in his early childhood years and which stuck. There are many people out there who never knew his real name. 

Baby will be remembered by everyone he met and helped for his incredible heart and generosity. He always helped everyone who needed help, and he always turned a sympathetic ear towards everyone’s challenges. He loved people, in general, and his family in particular. He supported his children in every endeavor they attempted, encouraged them and constantly cheered them on to achieve more, to reach for higher goals. In losing him, his family lost their patriarch, their center, their rock, their North Star. 

Second only to his big heart was his abundant sense of humor. Although he could be a stern and ruthless businessman (at only about 5’5”, the man could intimidate just about anyone in a well-pressed suit), he was also the heart of every party and the clown of every gathering. Everyone that ever met him privately will remember him with a smile on their faces and they will recount the many jokes he told at parties and the many pranks he played. 

He was notorious for his parties. Even in the darker days of Communism, when life was hard and happy moments were few and far between, he always took the time to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, or milestones, like his children getting into a new school, or buying a car, or even buying a house appliance. He loved to cook and his multiple-course dinners that started at 2PM and lasted way into the night will remain unforgettable to anyone who participated. His parties were always about savoring good eats and drinks, laughing so hard your stomach would hurt, dancing while listening to “good music” and forgetting about the challenges of life. They were always a reprieve from a harsh reality and a journey into happy times. 

He was somewhat of a hedonist when it came to food and drinking - everything had to be in excess. For years, he made his own wine, various specialties of smoked meats, sushi, and together with his wife, he cooked the most elaborate dinners. He was the chef-in-charge and Anișoara was his right-hand sous-chef. The ideas for the dinners, the decorations and table settings, the decorating of the house for The Holidays were all his ideas and orchestration. 

He loved freedom in its purest form. Again, during the dark days of Communism, even with the risk of getting caught and thrown in jail for destabilizing The Regime, he instilled the love of freedom and of America, in particular, (the “only country in the world,” he used to say, “with true freedom and respect for the individual”) into his children. He raised them to, one day, be citizens, “and not just tourists”, of the Free World and both his daughters now live in the US and Canada. 

One of the highlights of his adult life was coming to America and visiting New York City - the “ultimate American experience”, he used to say. His visit to Ellis Island, the cradle of American immigration of sorts, was deeply emotional and moved him to his core. It was a dream come true. 

Besides photography, he also loved music. He never took English in school, but he spoke conversational-level English “just from listening to The Beatles”, he used to say. His favorite band was The Beatles, but he instilled a deep passion for all ‘60’s British and American music into his children - The Rolling Stones, CCR, Jimi Hendrix, and Janis Joplin were among his favorites. 

He was a Renaissance man - he used to tell his children that a “well-rounded person never walks into a room full of people without being able to be fluent in whatever the topic of discussion is in that room: whether politics, sports, music, money, family, literature, history - you need to be able to hold your own and never be at a loss for words and devoid of your own opinions.” He was a gifted conversationalist and he shared advice freely with anyone who would listen. He leaves behind an impressive collection of books and he always encouraged his children to be avid readers. 

He loved animals, especially cats and dogs. As a child, he practically collected stray dogs and cats and his parents never knew what they would come home to every day because he would shelter yet another creature, giving them a bath and feeding them whatever leftovers he could find. 

Taking after his mother, he also had a green thumb - his house and garden are filled with plants and flowers that always look healthy and full of life, in any season. 

Baby was born with a hereditary condition which he inherited from his father, called Familial Hypercholesterolemia (FH). FH causes early onset of cardio-vascular disease and strokes. He started seeing signs of his arteries being blocked with excess cholesterol which caused his heart disease and his first minor strokes in his 40’s. Eventually, he died of a number of massive strokes which lead to cardiac arrest. His death was very similar to that of his father, who also died of multiple strokes at the early age of 65. In a strange twist of fate, his wife also has the same condition and his daughters and one of his grandsons also inherited it. 

He was preceded in death by his parents, Sterian and Ioana, and by his parents-in-law, Constantin and Ileana. He is survived by his loving wife of 49 years, Anișoara, his only sister, Rodica Todică, his two daughters, Alina Wilson (Aaron Kuehn) and Andreea Arghire (Gabriel), his two grandsons (Patrick - 14, and Kevin - 11), and many other cousins, and second- and third- nieces and nephews. 

For those of you who knew him and who might feel so inclined, if you want to donate anything in his name, you can donate food to anyone in need, or give any kind of help to homeless pets. He would have loved that. Sharing food was the best gift he could give to humans and animals alike, the surest and purest way he could show his love.  

Also, if you want to aid with creating awareness for FH, you can also support The Family Heart Foundation (https://familyheart.org/donate) who dedicates their efforts to educating individuals and medical professionals alike about the severity of FH, if left untreated.  

Thank you to all of you who have been by our family’s side since his passing. It means a lot more than I can put into words.