A Dream (or Two) Come True

Well, they’re in the process of coming true. Three years ago this week, I started writing a novel. Considering I lack in the patience department, I never seriously thought I would finish writing the story. At the time I needed a cathartic outlet and I had always dreamt of writing a full-length novel. Seeing my name in print on a book cover was literally a childhood dream of mine.

Wanting to read a story that blended my favorite themes of romance, history, mythology, travel, and the supernatural, I figured I’d give it a shot and write one myself. Three months later, my baby was complete. Of course, things are never easy and editing it took two years and nine months. Today, the story is in the publisher’s hands and will hopefully be in readers’ hands in the next couple of months!

Dream number two goes hand-in-hand with the story, only it is a much more personal accomplishment. In October 2008, I was struggling with personal issues, not the least of which was my weight. I was not blessed with miracle genes like other moms and after my second pregnancy, the seven pounds I lost post-birth, I regained. I had no energy. I couldn’t keep up with my kids. I couldn’t breathe. My spark was gone. After I began writing, I felt some life come back to me. The old, go-getter “Andrea” started to work her way into my conscience. I figured if writing was making me feel better, getting back into shape would help too. Not that I expected to be able to remold myself into the pre-pregnancy form I once had, but I missed the ballerina / cheerleader body of my youth. I set three weight milestones for myself and set out to lose weight my way.

Diets and impossible exercise routines never worked for me. I would inevitably stick with it for a month or so but gradually stopped denying myself the foods I craved and working out. This time was different. I was determined that I wasn’t going to diet. I was going to eat right and that meant making better choices every day and allowing myself a glass of wine, pizza, cheesesteaks, and desserts on the weekends. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t go overboard, but knowing that I was able to enjoy the not-so-good-for-you foods motivated me to work out more. It was a matter of creating balance.

Two years, eleven months, and three weeks after I started to reclaim my health, I’m proud to say that I reached my third tier weight goal! Twelve dress sizes smaller and defined muscles from head-to-toe—yeah, I can confidently say that I’m happy, healthy, and proud. It’s such a sense of triumph, because there was more than one occasion on which I wanted to throw in the towel. However, along the way, I learned something about myself. Weight is just a number. I needed to be healthy. Today, I can outrun my kids and keep up with them throughout the day. I’m no longer parenting from the couch, feeling depressed about the extra weight dragging me down. I’m racing with them, playing catch with them, and still have enough energy to feel like I can take on the world after they’ve gone to bed.

The most important lesson I learned over the past three years was that all I had to do to make my dreams come true was to believe in myself. I couldn’t depend on or expect someone else to motivate me or pick up my broken pieces of shattered dreams. The opportunities were always right in front of me; I just needed to want it enough to make them happen.

What do you want to achieve? It’s never too late to go for it and even if obstacles get in your way, step around them. You can make your dreams come true!

Images:
1) A teaser look at the logo for my novel, "Eternity." Logo designed by Debra Early.
2) The "me" of today

The Day the World Stopped

My heart stopped beating. The world around me moved in slow motion as my mind tried to catch up with what I just heard. A co-worker had just rushed into my office to tell us that one of the Twin Towers in New York was hit by a plane.

‘It couldn’t be,’ I doubted. It had to be a practical joke or a way for the media to get more coverage. They had to be overreacting. The office began to chatter. Others were asking if we heard any other news. With our office based in Philadelphia, many of us had friends and family in NYC.

Friends. My heart still hadn’t begun beating. My dear friend was working in downtown Manhattan. Her boyfriend was working in one of the buildings that was part of the Tower complex.* I tried calling her but the phone lines were all busy and I couldn’t get through to her. Panic started to set in.

I managed to walk down to our cafeteria where a TV was set up to show news coverage as the event was unfolding. Equally mesmerized and disgusted by the image of the burning first tower, my jaw dropped as I watched the second plane hit the other tower. The only other tragedy I’d seen on live TV was the Challenger space shuttle’s explosion as a child. Like that accident, the image of the plane careening into one of the New York skyline’s most recognizable buildings was now permanently etched into my mind.

Everyone has a story from 9/11—where we were, what we were doing, who was with us at the time. One way or another, all Americans and many around the world were personally touched by the tragedy.

In the course of American history, on 9/11 our country lost a little more of its trusting innocence and idea that we were invincible. Yet, the best thing that came of this tragedy was that for a short while, we, as Americans, set aside our differences. We were one nation, one family, united to protect our ideals and our freedoms. For a brief moment, our nation remembered what it meant to be a citizen of the United States. Democrat, Republican, Independent—these were just political labels that didn’t matter anymore.

Our country was founded on protecting basic human rights and freedoms. September 11 served as a painful reminder that we often live in a bubble in the Western hemisphere and that others most definitely do not share our philosophies or rights in their part of the world.

And from unexpected tragedy, hope was born. I was pregnant during the summer of 2001. I loved my unborn child with my entire heart already and knew that I would go to the ends of the earth to keep my baby safe and happy. September 11, 2001 made me realize just how precious life is and that every second we have with our loved ones should be cherished. Life is too short.

Today we celebrate those who made the ultimate sacrifice in the midst of one of the most horrific, hate-filled attacks on our country. Inspired by their bravery, we honor them and their families and hopefully remember that ten years later we are still “one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”**

* With all transportation shutdown on 9/11, my friend walked home from Manhattan to Queens that day. Her boyfriend made it home later that night. The sights, sounds, and smells are forever part of their memories from that day. They are now happily married.

** US Pledge of Allegiance – “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

America – Where are the streets lined with gold?

On the way home yesterday, I passed a man on a street corner. He was wearing nice jeans, a polo shirt, and a baseball cap. In his early 50’s, his clean shaven face was kind yet careworn. He certainly did not fit the stereotypical homeless unfortunates who work part-time begging on select street corners around our town of 53,000. The sign he was holding caught my attention and broke my heart. “Laid Off. Need to Feed Family & Pay Rent. Anything helps.”

Having recently found myself in the same boat, seeing this family man resort to begging made me feel like I’d run into a brick wall of reality.

America—the land of the free where prosperity overflowed abundantly—was the promise many immigrants had their hearts and hopes set on when they moved to the United States throughout our country’s 235 year history. America has always been a land of opportunity and an escape from the religious, financial, and political horrors around the world.

But where do we as Americans escape to when our country is imploding before our eyes? Democracy is an ideal form of government if it works the way it’s supposed to. However, our two primary political parties are too busy treating Washington like a pre-school playground, playing tug-of-war with the shiny “new” toy (our votes) instead of getting work done to help not only their constituents but the country as a whole.

Currently, 13.9 million Americans are without work. That’s 9.1 % of the total workforce. Think about that. Nearly 10% of American workers are unemployed. With all of the talk about financial deficits and raising the country’s ridiculous debt ceiling, 9.1% of Americans are also relying on jobless benefits to make ends meet while they search for jobs. This only adds to the country’s financial burden, which will likely lead to increases in taxes and decreases in publicly funded programs—two things which the unemployed can’t afford. It’s a vicious cycle.

I’m not a lobbyist or an active political mover-and-shaker, but right now, a particular cause has sucked me into it. Stalking websites and personal connections in the hunt for a job, the realities of unemployment are terrifying. On the surface, job postings make it seem like opportunities in my field are prevalent, but there are so many factors impacting this that it’s impossible not to feel disheartened and hopeless.

Many companies post jobs online and in newspapers to fulfill HR and government requirements. Often, these companies hire from within, posting jobs internally before releasing the information to the public. So, unless you already work for said company or know someone who can get your foot in the door, you’re pretty much out of luck.

The most illogical and unconscionable revelation I have come across is that some companies apparently don’t want to hire the unemployed. Perhaps they feel that we are unemployed because we are lazy, underperforming, unfriendly employees who couldn’t make the cut with our previous employers. The reality is that the recession over the past three years has caused countless companies to make drastic cuts and streamline their needs and expenses to boost their bottom line. While some of the unemployed undoubtedly fall into the category of sub-par performers, the result of the tough economic outlook impacting businesses is that thousands upon thousands of decent, hardworking Americans, who enjoyed and excelled at their jobs, are jobless through no fault of their own. We are/were top performers, but our companies had to make tough choices in wanting to sink or swim. We do NOT want to sit on our couches, watch TV and collect unemployment checks. We want to work. We want to do exceptional work. We want to continue our career paths. We want to add value to our future employers’ strategic growth plans. We just need to be given a chance to prove ourselves.

I keep trying to focus on the positives. My situation could be worse—a lot worse—but I want out of the unemployed circus. As someone who prides herself on high-quality results and thrives on hard, honest work, I don’t want to be a part of the growing unemployed masses. So, the search for new opportunities goes on…

Sources:
Bureau of Labor Statistics
TIME U.S.

The Huffington Post

CNN Money

Image:

Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, CA - c. Andrea Kohalmi

Daddy's Little Girl

Playtime. Tickling us until we couldn’t breathe. Pushing us on the swings. Pretending to be a train so we could ride on his back around the house. Wrestling with us and letting us win. Racing us across the backyard. Teaching us badminton, tennis, and golf.

My daddy. After he came home from a long day (smelling like chocolate—yum!—one of the benefits of being an engineer for Godiva and R.M. Palmer), he would still make time for us. Every child needs a parent who will be silly and forget the world of grown-ups even if only for a few minutes each day. Our moments with dad held us over as we got older and his job got more intense, requiring long hours and weekends when we no longer had time with him at all.

As the years go by, I cherish my childhood memories, especially as I think of what’s important to my own children. My dad worked hard and taught us to do the same. Having struggled through his own childhood and working three jobs to put himself through college while learning English at the same time, he showed us that every challenge is an opportunity to grow and achieve our dreams.

Despite the lack of time he had for us as we got older and the endless arguments and stress we caused him when we were teens, we knew that he loved us because he laid the foundation for a solid relationship with each of us when we were little.

It doesn’t matter how old I get, I know I’ll always be daddy’s little girl. He still wants what’s best for me and he’s not afraid to give me his honest opinion every chance he gets. And for that, I’m extremely grateful. Being a parent isn’t about being a buddy; it’s about making difficult choices and guiding your children especially when you see their decisions are leading them down a path that might not be best for them.

To my daddy: Boldog Apák Napját kivánok, Apu! Thank you for being the best. (Szeretlek most és mindig!!!!)

To all dads, grandpas, uncles, and men who play a positive role in the lives of children—Happy Father’s Day! Always remember, if you touch the life of a child even if just for a moment, you have made a significant impact.

CCHS: As One Door Closes…

Yesterday, Reading Central Catholic High School (CCHS) closed its doors forever. I think it’s fitting that this will also be my last post about CCHS. It’s time to say goodbye. The past few months have been a whirlwind of emotions since the CCHS community found out that the school would be merged with Holy Name to create the new Berks Catholic with the start of the 2011– 2012 school year. Emotions and drama ran high on both sides of the Schuylkill River as the arch rivals tried to make sense of what was about to happen.

I’m grateful that the current CCHS administration organized the Mansion Memories event in May for alumni and that I was able to attend. As soon as I stepped through the wrought iron and glass front doors of the Bon Air mansion (our school was once the Bon Air mansion and home of William Luden), memories of rushing from class-to-class, friendships forged, high school crushes and heartbreak, cheerleading practice, basketball games, play rehearsals, falling in love, and, most importantly, learning, came back in an instant.
While memories can offer heartwarming solace when it’s time to bid farewell to something or someone, it’s important to remember that they also last forever. The good, the bad, and the ugly are all part of our histories and high school sure offered its fill of every high and low that’s an essential part of every teen’s life.

As I left the event on May 14th, I found myself hopping down the school’s back stairwell just like I used to 15 years ago. Right when I reached the doorway, I caught myself and realized that this was the last time I would ever feel the school’s exuberant energy, touch the banister, and set foot in the place I called my home away from home for four years. From my spot on the first floor, I glanced back into the school, said goodbye, and wiped the tear that managed to escape my sad eyes. I left a little bit of my heart there, but I’ll carry the countless memories with me forever.

Walking down the pitch black, tree-lined Eckert Avenue late that night toward my car, my thoughts drifted back to wandering the halls of CCHS and meeting with old friends and classmates. In that moment I remembered instantly what it felt like to be a part of such a close-knit community. It’s not the school that creates such a sense of belonging. CCHSers were, are, and always will be a family.

"We love thee, Alma Mater,
Dear old Central High,
Within your walls may it be said that hidden treasures lie.
So we must keep on seeking them,
Though strength we have no more.
But we will keep you on the top, Excelsior!
Oh, Alma Mater, we will fight!
Through thick and thin
For the red and the white,
Because on you we can rely
All hail to Central Catholic High!
When the great wide world surrounds us,
And our ideals would mar,
Then all your teachings through the years
Will be our shining star!
Though each New Year brings memories
Of days that have gone by,
The ones we’ll cherish most are those of Central High!"

CCHS: When We Can’t Say Goodbye

Here’s the Reading Central Catholic High School (CCHS) article that some of you have been waiting for patiently. Before we say goodbye to our school for good, we have to acknowledge its permanent residents.

Most Americans (roughly 66%) don’t believe in ghosts, but spend some quiet time wandering the halls of the CCHS mansion after hours and you might just change your mind. For some of the teachers who spent years at the school and for those of us who stayed late at night for extra curriculars, CCHS held some supernatural surprises—a heavy presence in the air, the feeling of being watched, and the worst, feeling like we weren’t alone.

Here are four of my favorite stories, which were told to us by the teachers themselves back in the day. (If any of you are reading this and want to add/fix details, please leave a comment below.) All of these events took place in the original Luden Bon Air mansion part of the school.

Crash
A teacher on the second floor was busy preparing classwork at her desk after school one day. Most of the students had gone home by this point. The second floor was virtually empty except for the last few faculty members working silently in their classrooms. Suddenly, an enormous crash echoed through this teacher’s room. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the class supply closet, where it sounded like every shelf just fell to the floor knocking down all of the contents. As she threw open the closet door, the most amazing site met her eyes. Everything was still in its proper place. She checked with the other teachers and all was well in their classrooms too. It’s interesting to note that this particular room was once one of the main bedrooms for William Luden’s family.

It’s Just the Wind
“It’s just the wind” my parents used to say to reassure me of every creepy noise echoing in our house. Creaking staircases and the moans of a house settling are things most of us have experienced. 99% of the time, it’s nothing; but that 1% possibility for the unexplainable is what makes us wonder, “What if?”

One day our assistant principal was speaking with a teacher on the second floor hallway, which was lined with the boys’ lockers. The windowless hall led to several classrooms, another hallway into the main school, and the marble staircase to the first floor. As they were speaking, all of a sudden the locks on both sides of the hallway began to swing as if someone had run down the hallways and dragged his hands across each locker. Was it just the wind?

The Joke’s on You
Our senior year Science Fair projects had just been set up earlier in the day along the tables in the physics lab on the third (and top) floor of the mansion. It was late in the evening. The physics teacher was finishing up another long day in the classroom. He was used to being the last to leave the school at night. He finished his daily routine, checked that the classroom was secure one last time, turned off the lights and made his way down three flights of stairs and out to the faculty parking lot. As he opened his car door, he glanced up to the top of the school and saw that the lights were on in the physics lab. He was sure he had shut off the lights. Regardless, he couldn’t leave them on all night, so he made his way into the school again and up to the top floor. When he reached the class, the lights were off. He double checked the room to make sure nothing was causing this strange anomaly. When he was satisfied that everything was ok, he made his way to the parking lot for the second time. As he got in his car, he looked up to his classroom again and there they were—the lights were shining brightly. Convinced someone was playing a joke on him, he rushed back inside and looked around the building but couldn’t find another living soul. Flabbergasted, he went back to the lab. This time the lights were still on, but that’s not what grabbed his attention. All of the windows were wide open and the science fair projects on the tables closest to the windows were knocked over. It appears that the playful spirit of CCHSers carries onto the other side. One thing was for certain, our teacher was not amused.

There’s a Monster in the Attic
Every summer a few teachers and students would care for the school until the new school year began. Performing necessary maintenance, these individuals had access to areas of the school which were typically off limits to the rest of us. One hot summer day, a teacher was working in the attic. As he kept to the task at hand, something caught his eye. It was something that he certainly didn’t expect to find and something that he’ll never forget. In the room stood a young man dressed in a white shirt and white pants. As the teacher tried to make sense of what he was seeing, the young man vanished.

Every ghost story is sparked by rumors—some containing a grain of truth, others altered by time and imagination. According to records, William Luden lost his first wife and a couple of his children. A slightly more sinister take on this fact was that one of William Luden’s sons committed suicide in a stairwell between the second and third floors. This staircase was boarded up years ago.

The mansion was built in 1914. By the end of the last century the electricity was shaky; the heating was bad; the school needed repairs. This alone could cause strange things to happen in the building. But for the people who knew the place, their experiences aren’t so easy to explain away. The Ludens loved their home. Perhaps some of them never left…

Infinite Love, Endless Worry

For nine months I waited, planned, and expanded. It was a time of change and excitement. As my body tried to get used to the strange feelings of a living being growing inside of me, with every passing day a new-found awe and appreciation for life grew little by little until the most miraculous of my days arrived.

Before long, my bright blue eyed little “monster” was squirming in my arms and nuzzling into my embrace. I fell in love harder and faster than ever before. I thought I could never love anyone as much as my husband, but my pint-sized mini-me proved me wrong (as he has done so many times since then). For the first time in my life I truly understood what it meant to love unconditionally and felt that I would willingly and without hesitation jump in front of a bullet to save my child.

Almost as instantly as I was overcome with so much love, fear reared its ugly head. For as much as I wanted to love and protect this tiny little baby, I knew that eventually I’d have to let him go and experience the world—a world which is often as cruel as it is wondrous. Nearly ten years have passed since then, and not one day goes by in which I don’t worry about my children. As a newbie mommy, this was one emotion I didn’t realize was cemented into the foundation of parenthood. I know now that for the rest of my existence I will agonize over my children’s decisions, applaud their triumphs, and weep over their each and every heartbreak.

Motherhood has shown me what it means to love, to live, and to grow as an individual. Each day I’m more amazed by my little balls of energy, who have shown me how to laugh when life is stressful and to embrace every precious moment of every day. Life is truly the most blessed of gifts.

Wishing every mom, aunt, teacher, and friend who has shaped the life of a child a very Happy Mother’s Day!

Image: Me and my Mini-Me on the day I became a Mommy in 2001

CCHS: A Pre-History & Tale of the American Dream

My love of Central Catholic High School (CCHS) started years before I was a freshman. Actually, it started before I ever stepped foot into a school. It all began with a honey-lemon cough drop.

Yes, a cough drop.

Like sunshine-yellow oblong amber jewels, Luden’s honey-lemon cough drops were like priceless gems of candy. Unlike the more traditional gag-inducing, medicine-tasting throat drops, my little sister and I had no problem sneakily polishing off the mini white box of “treats” before dinner.

So, how do cough drops relate to a high school, you may be asking?

In the back room of his parents’ jewelry shop at 35 N. 5th Street in Reading, PA, a young William H. Luden worked with a pharmacist to develop a menthol cough drop that was different from the medicinal red versions available to consumers at the time. In 1879 20-year-old Luden was not only an inventive entrepreneur but a savvy business man as well. In a time when other pharmacists sold their goods door-to-door, Luden convinced local merchants to carry his cough drops on in-store displays, much like the candy counter displays you find in grocery and mom-and-pop hardware shops these days.

Cough drops led to other inventions including the delicious 5th Avenue chocolate bar (similar to a Butterfinger only much, MUCH better). Luden made his own confections and offered a variety of candies, chocolates, and marshmallow treats. Business demands required him to expand and relocate his factory twice within 20 years, its final home in the 200 block of North 8th Street where it continued production for 100 years. Reading was already a hub for industrial products; Luden’s business brought hundreds of additional job opportunities to the growing city.

If you venture downtown these days to the somewhat scary sections of the old, dilapidated factory complexes, close your eyes for a minute and imagine what it once was a hundred years ago—a bustling section of the city where workers rushed to and from work and thousands of commercial and residential products shipped out daily to cities around the world. It was a time when productivity, job opportunity, industrialism and capitalism drove the city’s development. It was a time before gangs and crime took hold of these same streets.

Immensely successful, Luden retired in 1927 and sold his company in 1928 to Food Industries of Philadelphia, a holding company of the Dietrich family, who continued his endeavors. In the 1930s Luden’s was shipping millions of pounds of candy to 26 countries!

William H. Luden’s individual success led to homes in Atlantic City, Palm Beach, Miami, and, of course, in Reading* where his Bon Air mansion is set on a quiet, tree-lined hillside overlooking Reading, PA. Built in 1914, the Indiana limestone faced building features an elegant two-story entrance complete with a marble staircase and wrought iron railing. Evoking the feeling of the Newport, RI mansions—the playground of the era’s rich and famous, the Bon Air mansion’s impressive wrap-around verandah has a breathtaking view of Reading’s rolling hillsides and the home’s perfectly manicured grounds. Erected on the outskirts of the rapidly growing city, it was more than a home; it was a palace in an otherwise blue collar town. It was a symbol and reminder of the American dream.

Career and financial success, while impressive in its own right, is not the end all. Luden, a husband and father eight times over, experienced quite a few personal tragedies, not the least of which were the deaths of his first wife and a couple of his children. By 1940, the grandiose and profitable era which Luden helped usher in was coming to a swift close as America was on the brink of World War II. Luden’s factories abandoned their efforts feeding American consumerism and began producing cough drops and chocolates for our soldiers and the war effort.

In 1939, the pastor of Reading’s St. Paul’s Church purchased the magnate’s mansion with the intent of turning it into Berks County’s first centralized Catholic high school. Over the years, the original mansion was expanded upon with the addition of over 15 classrooms, a cafeteria, locker rooms, a gymnasium and stage. The integrity of the mansion portion of the school was preserved and if you wander its halls to this day, you can still experience the grand architecture with decorative European elements, Luden’s personal library, dining room (now the office), and the living room (part of the expanded library). Though the Bon Air mansion became Reading Central Catholic High School, it has always been a home—first to the Luden family, next to the CCHS family of thousands of students. Every member of the CCHS family knows that this building is more than just a school. Walking into its halls on the first day of freshman year, the building’s history and amazing beauty hits you like a ton of bricks. This is no school. It’s a house—and an unforgettable one at that from its tucked away basement corridors to the bedrooms-turned-classrooms and to certain (invisible) members of the Luden family who still call it home today.

With the closing of CCHS now imminent, the CCHS family isn’t just losing its building. We are losing our home and a very real symbol of what it means to achieve the American dream. Every student, alumnus/a, and member of the faculty and administration is a part of William H. Luden’s legacy. He transformed the pharmaceuticals of his time, built an empire that lasts to this day under the Hershey and Johnson & Johnson umbrellas, and supported the local Reading community as a kind and generous employer and benefactor.

The next time you’re in a CVS or Rite Aid pharmacy anywhere across the U.S. and stroll by the cough drops, take a moment and consider the Luden’s brand. The best and longest lasting products usually start as an inspired moment from a “nobody,” not a major corporation spending millions on product development. William H. Luden lived the American Dream. He turned a hunch into a profitable reality benefiting millions all over the world. And it all started 125 years ago in a tiny, forgotten historical remnant of the Industrial Age, a mere dust particle on America’s map which time is blowing away. A little town with a rich 278-year history starting with William Penn's sons. A town which some locals are trying desperately to hold onto while others are trying desperately to escape. A town whose brilliance has faded but remains a diamond in the rough. A town called Reading, PA.

* Luden built two mansions in Reading. The first was a brownstone located at 709 N. 5th. The second was Bon Air situated at 1400 Hill Rd.

Images: Image #1: Luden's Cough Drops today (By: Andrea Kohalmi)

Image #2: William H. Luden (Posted By: http://berks.pa-roots.com/books/montgomery/l16.html)

Image #3: Luden's Bon Air Mansion (Posted By: http://www.goreadingberks.com/religion/catholicfaith/history/cchs.asp)

Image #4: The Bon Air Mansion's wrap-around verandah on my wedding day.

Resources: http://www.candyfavorites.com/blog/tag/william-luden/ http://www.cchscardinals.org/19771041193135867/site/default.asp http://www.goreadingberks.com/religion/catholicfaith/history/cchs.asp http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_H._Luden http://berks.pa-roots.com/books/montgomery/l16.html http://candyprofessor.com/2009/11/20/ludens-penny-candy-part-ii/ http://www.ludens.com/our_story.aspx http://berks.pa-roots.com/library/business/a-f.html http://readingeagle.com/article.aspx?id=55001 http://www.jamparanormal.com/case_005 http://www.thehersheycompany.com/brands/5th-avenue/candy-bar.aspx?cat=cat#/1859 http://readingeagle.com/article.aspx?id=54964: An interesting side note from this Reading Eagle article dated August 15, 2007: "When it celebrated its centennial, technically a year or two late, in 1981, Luden’s had enjoyed 100 years of uninterrupted prosperity. But within a few years, its owners had put it up for sale, and Hershey Foods Corp. (which subsequently changed its name) came up with the best bid. Hershey reduced not only its work force, but the plant itself, halving its space and tearing down a number of the buildings. However, it continued to see value in operating the facility, the Hershey Reading plant, which produces candies including the 5th Avenue bar and the York Peppermint Pattie. But Hershey ultimately decided to shed the Luden’s brand, and since 2001 it has been traded from one corporate owner to another. It resides under Johnson & Johnson’s suite of consumer goods."

CCHS / HN: The Bottom Line

Typically the bottom line refers to a company’s overall profitability. Whether or not Holy Name’s ‘Save the Money, Save the Name’ debate continues to aim at impacting the Allentown Diocese’s bottom line, as individual Catholics we each have a bottom line to answer to that transcends the in-fighting developing on either side of Reading, PA’s Schuylkill River.

What would Jesus do?

It seems that Christians are fond of throwing this catch phrase around when the answer is clear and on their side. Murder is bad. Larceny is bad. Abuse is bad. Jesus would never approve of these things, so it’s easy for us to also agree because these are obvious crimes against others not to mention punishable by law.

But what about the HN argument against becoming Berks Catholic? WWJD?

Forget the issue about money. Forget the need for new uniforms and signage. Forget about the donors who don’t want to tithe or support Berks Catholic. Forget about badmouthing HN supporters. Forget about blaming the diocese for making this decision, poor execution and communication of it.

WWJD?

God is our ultimate judge. When our judgment day arrives and we’re standing in front of the pearly gates, is God going to care that we preserved Holy Name’s moniker to save a few thousand dollars? Or will we be judged on making sacrifices for the continuation of Catholic education, teaching children that compromise is painful at times but survivable, and, most importantly, to love, support and understand one another? God is neither a HN or CCHS fan (shocking, I know); He is a fan of humanity.

WWJD? What would you do?

(Update: Last Thursday members of both CCHS and HN student governments met at HN. I’m proud of both groups for setting aside their differences and fears in an effort to create unity and peace as both schools merge and move forward as Berks Catholic. For the full story, check out the Reading Eagle online.)

Hope in Tragedy

I'll keep today's post brief. My heart aches for the individuals and families in Japan and around the Pacific who were affected by the tsunami--so much destruction, so much devastation. May they get the help they need and may they see light through the darkness enveloping their world right now.

I'm a firm believer in the notion that everything happens for a reason. The good and bad in life deepen our understanding of existence and offer us important opportunities to grow intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. A friend forwarded the link below and I wanted to share it in case others might find solace in it. "Everything Happens for a Reason."

Finding hope amid tragedy is like looking for a needle in a haystack. It's virtually impossible unless we remain determined and motivated by even the slightest iota of a positive outlook. Sharing hope through one's words or actions--no matter how big or small--is contagious. May we each find the "good" in every day and when we're lost in our own tragedies, may we be blessed with an angel or a friend who can be our beacon.

Image:

By: Me (Andrea Kohalmi) - Rainbow over Kuhio Beach / Waikiki, O'ahu, HI (November 2010). The tsunami washed onto this beach early this morning. Thankfully, no one was injured here. Natural catastrophes like this serve as a reminder of what's important. Democrats, Republicans, men, women, rich, poor--none of this matters on days like today. We're all human. We're all equal. Life is precious.

A Tear (CCHS & Life on a Personal Note)

(Taking a break today from the Berks Catholic posts to reflect on a more personal aspect of it.)

Death is a part of life. We all know that. We all expect that.

Death comes in many ways. From the end of an era to the passing of someone close to you, it closes one chapter in your life and begins another. Having lost many friends and family and survived life’s unexpected and tasking challenges so far, two of the most important lessons I’ve learned are that time doesn’t necessarily heal the pain and one can never forget. Then again, these aren’t always bad things.

After about a week or two, news of my cherished high school’s closure finally sunk in over the past couple of days. Today I found out that the individual dreams and aspirations of several old friends of mine came to an end. And, this afternoon the last of my childhood pets passed away.

When trying to offer solace, I often find myself saying, “It could be worse.” Applying that logic to my own circumstances, my thoughts can easily conjure a hundred more desperate and sad scenarios. After all, it’s only a school and a pet. I could’ve lost my home and a person, right?

You see, my alma mater and dog (Lexie) are tied together, symbolically anyway. My family got Lexie when I was in high school (yes, she had a very nice, super-long life). The point is that within one week I’ve lost two important pieces of my past. Figuratively, high school is a place where we transition from childhood to adulthood; literally, the building is our home away from home during our teen years. Whether we like it or not, the CCHS teachers and administration were very much a part of our extended families. Lexie was a member of my family and the spoiled baby at that. Just like school provided us an escape from our personal troubles at home, Lexie was my family’s silent therapist as she would always be willing to console and play with us.

Digging deeper, it’s important to note that I’m not just living in the past or dreaming of better days gone by—because they certainly weren’t better. I love my family and life today. The thing is that seven years ago my husband and I made a decision for our new family that physically severed the ties to our pasts.

When we moved to California, we left behind our individual families, our friends, the home we created as well as our childhood homes, the familiarity of our hometown, and all the places that meant something to us—Gring’s Mill and Lausch Parks where we used to go for walks and just muse about life and music, CCHS Stadium (the place where we fell in love over football season ’93), Berkshire Mall (the only place we could really go to hang out when we were teens), Arby’s @ Fairgrounds (Jeff’s 1st job), Boscov’s East (my 1st job), the list is endless.
California was a fresh start and was a dream come true since we finally got out of Reading—something we always wanted. Seven years later (and it didn’t even take this long to figure it out), Reading had everything we wanted for our family (except viable jobs for us—a big issue, yes). Most importantly, it was an inextricable part of our joint histories.

As I’m constantly reminded by native Californians, what’s not to like here? Quite frankly, nothing! It’s breathtakingly beautiful, there are hiking trails a-plenty, wine country is in our backyard, and within a few hours you can be in the desert, mountains, or ocean. Though our “new” friends are few; they’re wonderful. Our life is everything we always dreamt of, but it’s not home. Why? Because our families are “home.” And home isn’t here; it’s 3,000 miles eastward.

Living so far away we’ve missed the most important days of our family and friends’ lives—graduations, weddings, births, baptisms, funerals, family reunions, class reunions, holidays, and just hanging out with them—going to a concert or two, having a glass of wine over a great conversation, and offering a physical shoulder to cry on when it’s needed most. As our parents get older and siblings lives’ evolve, we’re not there to help them. Our children are growing up fast and their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins are missing out on valuable time with them.

With CCHS’ closure in a matter of months and Lexie gone, two important pieces of my childhood history will have died. Yes, life will go on; it always does. And great memories help me cope. And yet, even if just for one moment, I’d love to walk the halls of Central and hug Lexie one last time to say goodbye to them and to an era.

Cherish every second of today for tomorrow it may be too late…

(It's a) Holy Shame

A civil war is brewing in the Catholic school community between my high school alma mater and its arch-rival-yet-soon-to-be-new-home. Three thousand miles away from the action, I’m just now starting to catch up with the storm that’s overshadowed my hometown for the past couple of months.

Here are the basic facts as I understand them:

• The Allentown Diocese decided to close Reading Central Catholic High School (CCHS in Reading, PA).
• Said group also decided to merge CCHS with Holy Name High School (the Catholic school across the Schuylkill River) which has a better, more modern facility to continue to provide a secondary Catholic education for CCHS students and others in Berks County.
• Holy Name (HN) parents and alumni have banded together to create the ‘Save the Money / Save the Name’ campaign. Their premise is that changing the school’s name to reflect the merger is a money sink requiring excess funds to provide new stationery, uniforms, and signage and that it will hurt the institution financially by requiring them to rebrand, which existing donors may not support.

The first two points are a horrible consequence of low enrollment, a maintenance-nightmare of a building from 1941, and a sign of the times. The third is a tad more complicated.

I get the HN family’s passion about retaining the school name; we are all passionate about the things we care about most especially our homes and families. I can’t imagine any school or business wanting to change their identity after 50 years. However, tying this rationale to money seems to be more of a guise in assuming that the diocese only cares about the bottom line. Since the diocese wouldn’t agree to keep the school’s name just because these parents want them to, ‘Save the Money, Save the Name’ supporters are threatening to withhold church tithing and financial support of Berks Catholic.

With the influx of additional tuition from the new students, help from the diocese, and perhaps the addition of a fundraiser or two, the funds to update the school’s name can easily be attained. Money problem solved for the transition, now what about this issue of rebranding?

A brand represents who or what someone is at their core and how the world sees them. Hershey. Tiffany’s. The Home Depot. These are international brands. Changing their name would impact how they are viewed and the products they sell. But Holy Name? The Hill School and The French Schools it is not. Holy Name is a school in a Philly suburb that is on the crux of merging with another Catholic school in order to guarantee that secondary Catholic education can continue in Reading, PA. Though Holy Name provides a well-respected and well-rounded education, it is by no means exclusive and the majority of its students are there because it was a natural progression from their feeder schools.

By blending two school cultures, students, and communities, Berks Catholic is going to be a new and improved high school. It’s time to update its image and reflect a unified front to the local community, who I’m sure is just adding this debacle to the list of everything that’s wrong with the Catholic Church today (now there’s a brand that could use some rebranding). If donors and alumni can’t understand and support this decision to rebrand, well, then I think their actions to withhold money from the school speak volumes about who they are as individuals and not true alumni.

This isn’t a matter of having a handful of random students sign up at Holy Name. An entire school is transferring. They won’t be HN or CCHS anymore. A new moniker reflects change, compromise, and the merging of two well-established schools. [By the way, the current HN facility was opened in 1964 to serve the children in the western half of Reading, while CCHS continued to educate those from the eastern half in their original building from 1941. The point of this mini-history lesson is that prior to HN’s opening, all of these students were CCHS students. Fifty years later no one seems to remember that we used to be one—ONE—school. There was no us vs. them issue. Keeping either name today inevitably isolates one group.]

The debate and war of words waged by the HN parents and alumni is like watching the Charlie Sheen train wreck. They’re fighting hard for their side today and turning a blind eye to the future. I’m wary and confused as to why they don’t see that:

1. Standing up for their cause, as they say, is just showing the local community that the town’s Catholics are unforgiving, unaccepting, and unwilling to help the community as a whole. There are a couple hundred students without a home after June who are suddenly expected to give up their identity and assume that of their rival’s. (Imagine the Phillies merging with the Giants and having to become the new Giants. Would all Phillies Phans suddenly/willingly want to root for them?) These students are losing their classrooms, teachers, and everything they signed up for when they decided to become CCHS students and pay for a CCHS-branded education. They could have taken the more affordable way out and attended Reading High, Exeter, or Daniel Boone from the get go, but their parents chose to pay tuition instead during a time when every penny counts in our households.

2. The HN “forum” to keep the name is sending layers of other messages, not the least of which is that they don’t care about what CCHS students—not the parents, alumni, institution, or diocese—the STUDENTS, aka children, are having to cope with because of the merger. Honestly, if I was a current CCHS student watching the Holy Namers’ protest, wild horses couldn’t drag me to go to school there in the fall. Why, you ask? Perhaps because I would assume that if the parents and alumni are fighting this hard against accepting a simple name change to reflect a new identity that the Holy Name student population will be none too kind or accommodating to us when we get there. Being forced to switch schools would leave anyone feeling anxious, especially teenagers who already have to deal with the drama and social upheavals typical of their age group. No one’s expecting this to be a smooth transition, but instead of a welcome mat at their school, the HN forum just slammed the front door on already worried and unsettled CCHS students. And, to point #3…

3. “Save the Money.” If CCHS students end up not transferring to Berks Catholic or whatever it will end up being called, saving a few dollars on rebranding today will mean nothing in the long term when the enrollment they’re anticipating never materializes and they too will end up having to close their doors at some point in the future. The decision to close CCHS was based on money, but money shouldn’t be the primary focus of the merged schools in this phase of the transition. Topping the list of everything that needs to be worked out are the psychological ramifications, coping process, and emotional and logistical fallout for students on both sides. The decisions about the name, the changeover, new signage and stationery will naturally evolve from there.

I get that Holy Namers identify themselves as such and want to keep it that way, but all of the Central Catholic students, alumni, parents, faculty, and administration are part of the CCHS brand. Just because the diocese closed the school doesn’t mean that the brand will “POOF” instantly vanish when the students cross the threshold into the HN building. There has to be a new name and a new brand to identify a new, unified student body and a united HN-CCHS. The building doesn’t define a school; the students do. This will also be true in the new, blended school. The sooner everyone gets over the name game and starts investing energy and time in making the merger a positive experience for the students, the better off we will be.

Neither side is happy with this decision, but it’s not fair and supportive of student morale that one side loses itself completely while the other retains its name, facility, and brand. The Save the Name campaign is divisive, hurtful, biased, and worst of all has completely lost sight of everything that’s important—the well-being of our children. All our children.

Resource:
Reading Eagle

Saying Goodbye

In a few short months silence will echo permanently in its three floors of winding hallways. The once bustling corridors of students pushing their way to class—some begrudgingly, others enthusiastically—will be mere memories haunting the emptiness. A history we thought would live on for our children and our children’s children will come to an end.

Reading Central Catholic High School (CCHS) in Reading, PA isn’t just any school. Most are built for the specific purpose of educating students. As such, certain elements and conveniences are built in and modernized for the faculty and pupils. But half of CCHS is a historic landmark. It had a history long before any student ever set foot onto its property. (But that’s a story for another day.)

After years of dwindling enrollment, this private school succumbed to the recession and its inevitable fate was sealed by the Allentown Diocese. While I understand the decision to merge CCHS with (its arch-rival) Holy Name (HN) from a business perspective, there has been a vehemently vocal push from some members of the HN community (and less vocal but staunch CCHSers) to reject becoming a unified school under the Berks Catholic title and remain “Holy Name.” True, this is a generic union of two schools with long, fascinating histories. However, what these “good” Catholics are forgetting is that the CCHS institution is losing everything—its building, its traditions, its memories, and more—by moving into the HN building. It’s a necessary move in order to keep secondary Catholic education alive in Berks County, but it’s one that I’m sure current CCHS students, parents and alumni are finding a difficult one to accept.

The closure of CCHS feels like a death in the family. You see, CCHS is so much more than just another school. It’s our school. It represents everyone who wandered its halls. Awkward teen-dom was survived there. The most impressionable and important years of our lives leading to adulthood were spent in its halls and classrooms. It defined who we were then and who we are today. Though with each passing year its memories are fading, CCHS will forever live on in our hearts.

Closing the school is a necessary “evil” in this economic climate and makes financial sense, but CCHS is more than a business. It’s filled with thousands of individual stories. I met my husband in Freshman Homeroom #2. I made friends and lost friends in its halls. Fates were decided. Dreams came true and some were dashed. Hearts were broken, but lifelong friendships were made. Limits were pushed; detentions served (and in some cases using a toothbrush to scrub the sacred marble staircase—more on that in another blog). Academic, athletic, and personal challenges were faced head on; we won some and lost a lot. In these four vital years, we entered as children and left as adults.

Central lives on through each of us. We may not have a spectacular one-of-a-kind building to call our home anymore or CCHS homecomings at the football field on St. Lawrence Avenue, but we carry the school’s spirit, its lessons, and its memories in our unforgettable tales and our lasting friendships.

I can’t believe I’m saying this to Catholics who are supposed to support each other and their communities. It’s time to put aside differences and understand that CCHS and HN will live on as Berks Catholic.
• Centralites: The decision has been made. The school is closing. Remember the past, but look to the future.
• Holy Namers: It’s a merger, not an acquisition. Both schools need to blend. Get used to it.

New traditions will be forged. New opportunities will come to pass. And as long as both schools’ alumni live, the wonderful memories and traditions of CCHS and HN will live on through our stories, our actions, and our efforts to preserve both identities while peacefully compromising to create a better, richer community for the future Berks Catholic students, who ultimately are our future in Reading and beyond.

We are adults. Our children learn from our actions in what we do and say. More importantly, the leaders of tomorrow learn from their parents first. Shouldn’t we set an example for our children by teaching them that compromise is a necessary way of life? In a situation like this feelings on all sides are going to get hurt and no one at the moment is going to be 100% happy with the decisions and choices that are made. But twenty years from now Berks Catholic alumni will be grateful that private, college prep education was available in their backyard and, more importantly, provided a solid, moral foundation for their lives.

The situation could be worse. Both schools could close in this economy and Catholic education—along with both CCHS and HN’s rich pasts—would be nothing more than a forgotten page in Reading’s quickly vanishing history.

Image:
The title page of our 1996 yearbook foreshadows the state of the school today.

Dieting: Five Steps to Success aka There's No Easy Way Out

We’re two months into 2011 and I’m having the toughest time with my primary New Year’s resolution—the dreaded new year, new diet. About 38% of people set weight goals each year. Only 8% actually achieve their resolutions, weight related or otherwise.* Scary, but true.

Over the past couple of months several people have asked me how I shed my extra pounds. At my highest, I tipped the scale around 185; I stopped tracking my weight at that point. It took roughly a year and a half to shed around 50 pounds, but I did it and kept it off—for the most part—until now. Carrying the extra five to ten pounds of Thanksgiving-to-New Years’ weight is enough to make my clothes fit tight and make it hard to breathe again, which is my main motivation for losing weight and keeping it off. Then again, I have to admit that my five-year-old calling me “jelly belly” had a great deal to do with pushing me to get back into shape again.

Why beat around the bush? There’s no secret, super-fast short cut to losing weight. It takes hard work, exercise, and eating right. Exercise, I can do. Eating right, well, that’s another story.

What makes me qualified to talk about dieting? After all I’m not a fitness trainer, a celebrity, or getting paid to promote the latest fad. I’m a real person with real diet challenges just like most American moms out there. I don’t believe in fad diets or taking pills to shed weight. For me, dieting has to be a long term solution and one that I can maintain as part of my lifestyle as a working mom. A diet has to be realistic. If it promises that I’ll lose ten pounds in two weeks, I know that within four weeks I will have gained back the ten pounds and then some.

Everyone’s body is different. We need to find a solution that fits our individual needs. Start by consulting your doctor. Never EVER embark on a diet or exercise strategy without consulting a doctor or nutritionist first, unless you know without a doubt that you are already in optimum health. Our goal should be to get healthy, not kill ourselves in the process.

Thanks to two pregnancies and my annual hibernation / holiday binge, I’ve gained and lost a lot of weight through the years. My weight still fluctuates based on the time of year (e.g. more physical activity in summer versus winter). And I’m ok with that. It’s been a difficult notion to accept, but one that was essential for me to understand who I am and how my body works.

That said, I have five basic steps for dieting success.
1) Get Real: Set realistic goals i.e. “I want to lose 15 pounds in six months” not “I need to lose 15 pounds by next Friday.”
2) The Scale of Judgment: Don’t weigh yourself every day. Find out the best time of day to weigh yourself and do it once or twice a week. Watching your weight fluctuate day-to-day is a self-sabotaging diet killer.
3) Patience is a Virtue (& a Dieting Necessity): Be patient. Long-term diet success takes months and years. Don’t expect overnight results.
4) One Size Doesn’t Fit All: We are each unique, so don’t compare your diet success to your friends or celebrities.
5) Forgiveness: Every day is a new day and new opportunity to get back on track if you fall off of the diet caravan.

Like everything in life, it’s always easier said than done, but I’m hopefully determined. And that’s half the battle.

Stay tuned.

Resources:
* New Year’s Resolution Statistics: http://www.steveshapiro.com/2008/12/11/interesting-new-years-resolution-statistics/

Cancer

Less than 24 hours apart, two of my friends lost their mothers to cancer this week.

Over the years five of my family and friends died from cancer. Like many of you, I know countless others who have been touched by this horrible disease and have lost loved ones to it.

The statistics* are scary:
• In 2010, 1,529,560 Americans died from cancer.
• Nearly one of every four deaths is because of cancer.
• More than 1,500 people in the U.S. die from cancer every day.
• 28% of all new cases are attributed to prostate and breast cancers.
• 29% male / 26% female deaths in 2010 were due to lung and bronchus cancer.
• 10,700 new cases of childhood cancer were estimated in 2010. About 1,340 children aged 0 – 14 were expected to die from cancer last year.
• The probability that we will develop an invasive cancer in our lifetimes is estimated at 44% in men, 38% in women.
• A little good news: The survival rate is 68%, up from 50% 35 years ago.

Early diagnosis and treatment is best, but prevention helps too. The American Cancer Society recommends we maintain a healthy weight, have an active lifestyle, eat healthy (lots of fruits and veggies), and limit alcohol intake.

Let’s honor those who’ve lost their valiant battles to this deadly disease by making a commitment to take care of ourselves (i.e. stop smoking, eat right, wear sunscreen, go to the doctor [this is always the hardest], etc.). No more procrastination, the time for change is now. Cancer doesn’t wait. Why should we?

To K & J: May you find comfort in your family and friends and may happier memories carry you through this difficult time.

* Resources:
American Cancer Society
Cancer Facts & Figures 2010
Treatment & Support
Staying Healthy

Digging for a Miracle

Based on a true story. (This happened on January 12, 2011 to someone I know; the story was recounted to me secondhand).

In her mid-80s, the more than two feet of snow that trapped her in her home was more bothersome than beautiful. With no family or friends nearby, it was going to be awhile before she’d be able to dig her way out. When her husband was alive, he’d clear the driveway in no time at all. If her shoulders and joints didn’t ache so badly, she’d do it herself.

Staring through her front window, memories of her kids laughing and playing in snow storms half a century ago flashed like fleeting ghosts across her thoughts. Wavering between awe and contempt, she stared emptily at the sparkling, fresh coat of white holding her hostage.

The plows hadn’t cleared the street yet and silence filled her tree lined, quaint, old suburban neighborhood. At least she wasn’t the only one stuck inside. No one else had ventured out either. The pristine blanket of snow extended down both sides of the street without so much as one footprint corrupting its perfection.

In the distance an odd shape moving along the street caught her attention. A tall, black hooded figure trudged through the thigh-high snow. Slowly, step-by-step, the determined person made his way up the street. When he reached the end of her driveway, he lowered his shovel and began clearing a path.

Frozen in absolute shock, she watched in admiration as one of her neighbors steadily worked at the mountain of heavy white stuff. Once he was able to reach her house, she rushed outside to thank him. Concentrating on the job at hand, he didn’t pause.

Stopping in front of him, she suddenly realized that she was staring at a stranger.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Without stopping, he continued his work.

“Who sent you?” she pressed.

With his hood obscuring most of his face, he raised his eyes to meet her questioning gaze but didn’t answer.

She just stared at him wondering who he could be. A question popped into her head—one that she never would’ve asked but felt an urge and suddenly blurted, “Did God send you?”

He looked at her blankly and then up at the sky and went back to work.

Cold and confused, she walked inside and waited until he was almost done. She went out again and, as he tossed the last shovel-full of snow, he stated simply, “Now I’m finished.”

She offered her thanks along with money for his hard work. He refused politely, looked at her, and then did something that nearly stopped her heart.

He hugged her! No, it was more than a hug—it was an embrace. He squeezed her closely and tightly and in that moment instead of being terrified she felt warmth and peace. Dumbstruck, she stared in his eyes as he pulled back and watched in amazement as he picked up his shovel, walked down her driveway and continued down the street.

As she watched him pass behind a large bush blocking her view, she wondered if he would make his way next door to help her neighbor. To her amazement, he never walked past the bush. Curious, she rushed—as fast as her old, tired legs could carry her—out to the street to see if he got stuck in the deep snow still coating it.

Her breath caught; he had vanished into thin air! Never prone to believing in anything supernatural or paranormal, she looked all around—at her neighbors’ homes and up and down the street—and wondered if she missed him somehow. But he was nowhere to be seen. Shaken, she said a prayer, thanking God for the stranger.

Whether or not you believe in miracles, one thing is certain. An angel visited my friend today. Holy or human, someone weathered the freezing temperatures and deep snow to help an elderly woman who would’ve otherwise been trapped in her home for days.

During winter and at any time of year, be an angel for someone in need. You might just be the miracle God is sending their way.

* Image - I took this photo during a snow storm in 2001. The location is Pennypack Park, Philadelphia, PA.