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It has begun- Alin the Musician-

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

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First picture- article in Hunedoara newspaper done on Alin:)

Second picture; Alin and his twin nieces, Oana’s girls:)

Alin around seven years old:)

Alin in one of his stage costume:)

Every year around this time I began to mourn for Fanu, my little ten year old brother who died a while back. His B-day is in December, but fall brings a whiff of Fanu’s memory with it and my heart cries from such precious loss. To divert my sorrows, I think of my other siblings.

I’ll start with Alin:)

ALIN-the Opera Singer

Second in command, he’s a boss in his own way:) A self made man and a brilliant engineer, his work in Germany is appreciated by many. But its his stage performances that define him for who he is. His love for music was know since early ages of his life. He performs on stage all over the world:) Beethoven is his favorite composer. Alin is a ball of mysteries and he loves it that way:) A natural born intellectual it’s a pleasure having a conversation with him on many subjects, but its his direct and honest opinions that puts a smile on my face every time we talk. He has a diplomatic way of telling you the truth about yourself, without the presents of butt kissing, living you hardly confused of his opinion. He’s a sensitive soul and the loss of Fanu (Alin and Fanu had a special connection the rest of us knew about), his heart fractured quite deeply. One day all will be healed.

Alin, makes me laugh in a way no other human being on this entire planet can do and I know Meleah has a special compartment in her heart reserved for uncle Alin. It is a common feeling many share about him.

His love of travel is well know as he often takes advantage of a nice vacation to go visit a new place on this beautiful planet.

Alin and I spent a summer in the hills of Moldova, at our great grandma, where out of boredom we got often in trouble. Come to think of it, it was my sense of adventure that got us in trouble often followed by his threats. One day, we forgot to close the gate and all great grandma’s chickens ran into the corn field. Panicked,  we recruited the help of her neighbor and the town’s well known drunk, but we couldn’t afford to be picky. The poor man, did a fantastic job mumbling instructions to us and after a highly stressful hour or so, we managed to bring back all the chickens. After words, as great grandma came back from the forest carrying a bundle of wood sticks for the evening dinner along side an apron full of freshly picked mushrooms (not my favorite) we acted as everything was well with the world. I’m not sure if the neighbor ever ratted us out, but I’ve never heard a reprimand from my grandma.

Yes, we were quite the pair and Sergiu joined our gang soon after.

Back home I was the cook and Alin was the baker. Boy was he a great baker. He could whip a chec (like a sweet loaf of bread) in no time, but “ciocolata de casa” (homemade chocolate), was and still is his favorite desert. He also loved a piece of bread with tons of butter, and when I say tons I mean tons, and honey. He pretty much lived on that.

I miss Alin every day, but I’m really glad he’s doing so well and one day I’ll get to see him again:)

P.S Alin speaks Romanian, English and German, he also speaks Alin language:)

Next is Sergiu:)

Perspective

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

I grew up poor. It sort of came with the territory of Christian parents, twelve children, small salary that wasn’t going to see any increase in it unless and until my father denied Christ. So far, my story is a very familiar one to Christians individuals that grew up in the socialistic communism of the Eastern European block.

But the poverty I experienced in Romania -you didn’t have to be a Christian to experience poverty, you simply had to be part of those countries to experience the “glories” of socialism- left an unpleasant taste in my mouth and it’s marks all over my body. Unlike other people, I had the blessing to be rescued from that environment:) But looking back, there was a movement, a spiritual movement I bought into for a long period of time, a sort of spiritual pride of our poverty. It was a coping mechanism. Something I only recognized years after leaving Romania. I do not blame the ones left behind that still think that way, it’s their way of coping with a hard situation the best they can. But years have passed, Chet and I worked hard and made certain decisions that proved to be smart financial moves and I no longer feel poor. There will always be others that have more than us, but there are far more people in this word that have less. I am grateful to God for everything we have, every day of my life and I do my best to help out others that still are in the midsts of poverty, usually in impoverished countries. But the funny thing about poverty that I’ve come to understand, it is a mindset. Let me explain my findings.

While in Romania -or Russia, or Bulgaria, or Africa, or India etc- there was a realistic and evident state of material and nourishment lack. Here in America is not so -unless one goes through an unfortunate turn of events in their lives that can leave them at the steps of poverty for a temporary period of time- its more a mindset that some have while spending unwisely or foolishly.

Example: Back in 2014-2015 I lost my job because I became very ill, medical bills piled up, the economy was not yet strong to sell the house and Chet’s company was having financial troubles and unable to pay him for months at the time. It showered on us with one bad news after another.

Example: Some great friends of ours, in their retirement years lost their savings to a crook that lived next door. The stress of such loss gave the husband a heart-attack and he died, leaving a widow and a child behind to fend for themselves.

These are hard situations, that come in our lives uninvited.

I’m getting better and our financial situation is fine, but it took sacrifice and great work. Our friends are recovering as well, but it took great work and sacrifice. These are only two examples in the sea of uninvited hardships coming in the lives of great people.

But there’s the other side.

Example: Couple that spent unwisely, lost their home, eventually their marriage and through it all used many trusting people and friends to keep up a facade that was crumbling anyway. To this day I haven’t seen efforts to put right what they’ve done wrong. Further more they’re the victims in their lives and everyone else who helped them were the abusers- their perspective. I’m sure this sounds very familiar to some of you. Chet and I had our fair share of such people.

Example: I was selling a wedding rental business piece by piece, mostly on Craigslist, after I realized it’s not going to work for us. The prices were fantastic. One buyer in particular, came to pick her items, but needed up lingering for an hour giving a sob story about her sad situation, and how expensive life was. I almost gave in to lower my already low (some items were .50 cents a piece) when I heard her phone ring and she pulled out of her purse the newest and best cell phones on the market. Listening to her conversation I understood that she expected stuff  for free because of a mind set she was raised with. Once she hung up, I tolled her to either buy or leave since I had other engagements. She purchased what she came in for and left, but waisted an hour of my time.

Which brings me to my final thought; perspective. What one thinks about their lives can look dramatically different from the reality of their choices. Of our choices, I’m not excluded from the “life’s mistakes club”.

In truth, here in America at least, we have far more opportunities to leave the poverty state, if we put aside laziness, pride, ego, and whatever else excuse people use to stay poor. I can see some people rolling their eyes and fuming while reading these lines. When I grew up, there were no such things as: food stamps, shelters, programs to help the poor, low-income help, missions to shelter the poor, food banks, planned parenthood (which I do not support), etc. When someone said: I have no money to buy bread, it ment no money, nada. There were no credit cards back then, just a whole lot of poverty to share with each other.

PERSPECTIVE. Here in this country we still have far more than most of the world has. Opportunities as well. There is much to be thankful for. Little to be unhappy about. Keep the right perspective.

God bless:)

Happy 24th Anniversary:)

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

IMG_4638IMG_4635It takes my mother-in-law, once again, to remind me of my “Coming to America” anniversary on October 15th (yesterday). It’s been 24 years already? Actually, right now I should ask: “I’ve lived in Romania?” It sure feels like a distant dream, the land of my birth, a dream mixed with happiness and sadness:)

To pretend that my new culture (America) doesn’t have its shortcomings would be infantile. However, I remember my very first experience in America, fresh off the airplane, which was a breathtaking experience in itself.

I had to use the restroom quite urgently, since I’ve held it in for a good fifteen hours now. I knew sooner or later I would have to learn the new and improved American system and due to its urgency on the matter, that time seemed to have arrived.

We took a boat to our new place on an island and through gestures – Chet and I could hardly speaking to each other, he barely knew Romanian and I was sure I didn’t know any English- I asked him where was the restroom. With his gentlemanly manners Chet showed me the door where a funny looking woman painting with very sharp edges about her announced my gender. I walked in absolutely flabbergasted by the clean surroundings, the bright lights- no one seemed to steal the public light bulbs in this country- and looked for either a hole in the ground with its own fly occupants or a toilet. I saw a row of sinks on one side and boxes on the other. With hesitation I walked toward the boxes, opened one and to my relief saw a toilet. I rushed in closed it and did my business. Once done I reached up to pull the string -the only system of toilet flushing I’ve known my entire life- shocked to find there was no string.

“Maybe its broken.” I looked up. No hole in the ceiling. “Great, now what?” I looked around for buttons or handles, anything, and became quite panicked. There were none that I could see. I dressed, and was about to make a run for it, when I heard the toilet behind me flush, by itself! “What?” Relieved, even if quite confused, I was ready to wash my hands, but there too I sat in a tremendous dilemma. No matter what I did no water came out. Again no buttons or sink handle were visible. Ladies came in and out, washing their hands just fine except for me. “Maybe my sink is broken.” I snuck to the sinks others just used but as soon as I got there the water flow stopped leaving me in utter confusion. I pulled and pushed on different spots of the sink. Nothing. Eventually, one simply began working and I ran to it washing quickly, glad the whole thing was over. Turning around ready to wipe my hands I got struck by another dilemma. “Shucks! No towels!” Nothing! Just some shiny things- later I found out they were automatic heat blowers- but no towels. I wiped on my clothes and found my way out of there eager to put the whole thing behind me and into a deeply worried new husband. How can I explain to him that American toilets were moody and sinks were playing tricks on me when one could not speak a word of English?  I’ve since learned of the automatic toilet flushing system along with the automatic faucets of the public restrooms, but it took a few more trials and a whole lot of confusion to get the whole new system of things down:)

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A sample of vegetarian Americo-Romanian dinner:) Zacusca (red pepper and eggplant dip) and salata de vinete (an eggplant and mayo dip) meets potatoes in the oven with steamed broccoli (never saw that vegetable in Romania) and snow peas (another vegetable I never saw in Romania) and backed squash:)

Unchiu Stefan

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De cind mi-l aduc aminte pe unchiu Stefan, e un om plin de umor si fara mare stress. Dar a trecut si el prin multe, mai ales in ultimul lui an in Romania, care l-a petrecut in patul spitalului mai mult decit acasa, datorita unui caz de astma severa. Cu ajutorul Crucii Rosii a putut pleca in America, unde sa stabilit in California unde aerul uscat si caldura atit cit si tratamentul l-au ajutat sa traiasca o viata normala. Ca electrician, incetul cu incetul si-a cumparat o casa, pregatind terenul pentru sotia lui Olga si cei cinci copii, care cu mare durere a trebuit sa-I lase in Romania. A luat, nu-mi aduc aminte precis, in jur de noua ani pina a putut sa-i aduca si pe ei in America.

Unchiu Stefan a zburat din tara cu ultimul avion in 1989, chiar dupa ce Revolutia  incepu-se si aeroportul sa inchis.

Din nefericire, acuma citeva zile a cazut jos de pe o scara, la lucru, si si-a lovit spatele. Ieri a avut o operatie care a fost foarte reusita si acum e in recuperare. Multumim Bunului Dumnezeu de protectia lui si ii dorim unchiului o precuperare rapida:)

Cu drag:)

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Uncle Stefan

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

IMG_4487He’s my mom’s younger brother, aunt Olga’s husband and now the proud owner of a successful back operation.

My uncle fell off a ladder a few days ago-work injury- and injured the lower lumbar disks of his back, more precisely, the jelly cushion known as intervertebral disks and their role are to absorb any shock from fall or trauma. He had surgery yesterday and everything went well:) Thank you, God:)

My uncle Stefan’s been dealing with severe asthma as far back as I could remember. This disabled him so severely, that his last year in Romania was spent mostly in the hospital. Through the help of Red Cross, he was able to come to America and settle in California where the weather is hot and dry and the medicine is far better than back home. The plane he flew on out of Romania was the last one to leave the country right as the revolution of 1989 begun. It was an impossibly hard decision to leave behind his beautiful wife Olga, and his five children. It would take about nine years (I can’t remember right the number so I may be off by few years here) until the family was able to re-unite. The paperwork process was long and dreary but eventually everyone was able to come:) Uncle Stefan’s health improved greatly here in America, especially in California due mostly to the weather, but also the medication. All his children (my cousins:) are married now, have good jobs and good lives, in California. I am so glad his surgery went well and his on the road to recovery now:)

So many times I get inspired by real people who endured hard times but succeeded in the end.

God Bless:)

The loss

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

“What a beautiful thing it is, to be able to stand tall and say: I fell apart, and I survived.”-riderek

I don’t know who riderek is as a person but I like the quote.

I join with everyone who shared their best wishes to the victim’s families of Las Vegas, aware that my frail words could never bring back the people you loved and lost. I’m so very sorry.

I’m glad my niece Sarah and her husband Kris are safe.

May everyone have a blessed and safe day today.

God bless.

New Apartment

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

Yes, we’re in contract process to purchase an apartment ten minutes away. I dread the moving process- as most people do- but I look forward to a place of our own and a smaller monthly payment than our current rent.

This move brought back some nice memories:)

In 2016, before putting our house in Auburn on the market, we had to make some improvements. One of those improvements was painting this very long fence along our driveway, an eye sore to any potential buyer. So our friends and their boys came ready for battle. It took about 6 or 7, one gallon paint cans to get the job done -this includes the thinning we had to do to make it go a long way. And after hours of hard work- we were trying to stay ahead of the predicted rain- it began sprinkling.

“Turbo style, everyone!” Angel shouted and you should’ve seen us go:)

“Re-paint and thin no more.” Was another funny remark -in the sea of funny remarks- and we stopped thinning the pain so the rain would not wash away our hard work.

In the end it turned out great and I will forever be great full for such a fantastic helping hand. They were there too when we moved, stacking our stuff in the U-HAUL truck,

while cracking jokes.

They’ve been good friends, bringing soups when I wasn’t able to cook and helping out anyway they could:) Great memories:)

God Bless:)

 

Europe’s storms

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

A few countries were hit by big storms, Spain and Romania among them. Apparently the storm is moving towards Portugal.

There were fatalities (last picture: a cement post at the entrance of Timisoara city fell on the car, killing the driver), but my siblings had minor damage or none to their properties and we’re not sure how our house has mended yet. We’ll find out tomorrow. Apparently the storm traveled through our village and one of my brother’s property got damaged somehow. My sister’s house lost a few roof tiles- mostly dislocated a few- but all in all, thank God all is well. There are many wounded and the numbers are still coming in.

Europe stay safe! You have people who love you:)

God Bless:)

The Accusation

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

“You’re possessed by demons!” The critical eyes on the other side of this accusation always turned out to be trouble makers within the Christian circle with a very poor example of their own personal lives. Despite me being aware of that obvious fact, I blinked, taken a back by such a bold insult packaged as a statement. My heart got hit, yet again. Can it be true? The doubt sneaked in inevitably.

Why does this particular accusation bothers me- besides the obvious reason; who wants to be tolled they have demons?- and creates such unease within my soul? I’ve meditated on these words many times while asking God for his advise.

Conclusion: While growing up, my siblings and I were called “devil’s children” or “piu de drac” in the Romanian language, regularly. Our role- according to our accuser- was to torment him. That wasn’t very nice and I’ve tried to break away from such a stigma for years. I’ve succeeded only recently, right after God tolled me to look at the evidence- an evidence between how God treated me during the course of my life versus my accuser. The evidence speaks for itself and I no longer need to worry about a lie, passed around with such ease while leaving behind such damage.

Let me ask you this: What person full of the true spirit of God, would say something like this in your weakest of moments (first one was during my first pregnancy and the second was during these past four years while fighting a diagnosed disease). Only a hurt person would hurt another. Religion, hate, pain and misery would speak out such things while the true spirit of God brings you comfort in your weakness.

Some of you know what I’m talking about. You’ve hurt because of such accusations done in hate against you and excused by religious beliefs.

I do believe in being attacked, as we all are either by disease, disappointment, fear, anger, etc and if not resolved it turns chronic. But when “help” comes with a big dose of guilt, condemnation, accusation and down right hate, it no longer falls in the category of help. And when you’re already fighting a battle you don’t need sand in your eyes.

Thank God for healthy friends, like Chet, Elizabeth, Natalya, Gabi, Lynn, other American friends, my brothers and sisters, my Romanian friends and my family here in America,,, thank God for so many of you, full of love, that outnumbered the other ones. I hope you’re all doing well:)

God Bless:)

My first hi tops

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

Back in the 90’s in Romania-1991 to be precise- while in 11th grade, the town was hit- probably an American famous pop singer brought it about- by a new fashion must; white hi tops sneakers.

Like any respectable poor person -not sure what’s respectable about being poor:)- I dreamed of having a pair but lacked the money to purchase such an outrageous item -the cost was two months of a laborer’s paycheck. Food was much higher on the priority list than some silly notion of fashion-I knew, if I asked my parents for a pair, their answers would be along those lines. So I had to take matters in my own hands; after all a poor young girl can only forgo so many earthy pleasures before resenting her social status; and I was way past that level.

After the revolution of 1989, where communism supposedly fell- only to be replaced by the same corrupted politicians wearing hats with different political agendas- my family began receiving packages of clothing and food- a perk for being poor. Most of the clothes were of a “worldly style”, meaning too racey (sexy) for our conservative Christian life style, so I sold them to my classmates who seemed to love such style. (I loved some of those clothes too, but I would’ve been blue and purple if my father caught me wearing them). It was the two gold necklaces that I sold who brought me real dough. I purchased food and my favorite (and only) new pair of shoes as far back as I remembered. I admired those white beauties for a long time, too afraid to get them dirty. Eventually I put them on and walked, chest high, all over town. Yes, I did get a few looks of envy and admiration, which was all so worth it. The first crack -after only 15 minutes of wear- was the most painful rip through my heart. By the time I go home there were big cracks on top. Pieces of fake junk. Bought them directly from a store but that held no guarantee of quality for any client. Well, I felt foolish, sad and still loving those sneakers but soon after, I had to throw them in the trash -a sad day full of mournful thoughts and a plan to learn the difference between real leather and the plastic fakes. I still remember those nice pairs of hi tops -never bought another one- and for a few days I felt as rich as everyone else in town, a feeling well worth all that trouble:)