blogging

Flavius cel Curajos

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

IMG_4658Eu cu Flavius.

Nascut al saptelea, Flavius face parte din echipa brunetilor impreuna cu mine, Alin, Iosif,  Alex si Oana. Echipa blonzilor este formata din Sergiu, Marius, Delia, Tibi, Iulian si Fanu.

Flavius a fost un copil simpatic cu gropite in obrajiori, plin de energie si guraliv:) Ca adolescent Flavius a fost plin de glume si peripetii, facindu-i pe multi sa rida, dar in spatele glumelor erau ascunse dureri de burta frecvente provocate de stresul abuzului din frageda-i copilarie.

Intre timp in Germania, Sergiu a citit un anut in ziarul local care i-a stirnit o idee. O echipa noua de fotbal cautau jucatori si Flavius era stiut in Romania ca fotbalist bun. Sergiu la adus in Germania atit pe el cit si pe Leo si amindoi au dat interviu la fotbal si au intrat in echipa, Flesh ca jucator si Leo ca portar. Foarte repede Flesh a devenit steaua echipei si cel mai bun jucator. Leo, care veni-se numai pentru fructele si ceaiul servit dupa practica, a fost dat afara. Singurul obstacol intre bogatie si faima au fost actele care nu le-au reusit nimeni sa le faca desi a fost depus effort din partea nemtilor. Impins inapoi in Romania, Flavius a terminat liceul in Hunedoara, pe urma a plecat la Arad, unde a stat la Alin si a terminat facultatea de inginerie. In timpul facultatii a intilnit-o pe Adina la Ilia, si sau casatorit dupa ce a terminat facultatea. Sau stabilit in Timisoara si impreuna au o fetita:)

Adina lucreaza in mediul tehnic si Flesh lucreaza ca prezentator la un post de radio Crestin in Timisoara, (rve.timisoara), emisiune data live pe Facebook si YouTube, zilnic. Are darul vorbirii repede si clar:) Dar bine practicat din copilarie. Flesh poate prezenta orice si oriunde cu o usurinta uluitoare. Eu as face pe mine si as voma non-stop, dar Flesh parca a fost nascut cu microfonul in mina, si ma bucura mult faptul acesta. Flesh este mult implicat in biserica locala, dar in ultimii cinci ani un nor de boala care l-a pus in paturile urgentei mai mult decit va pute-ti imagina, a pus multa tristete in sufletul lui Adina si a-l nostru. Flesh trebuie sa aiba grija la dieta si stilul de viata cit de calm possibil, dar in general se simte bine si e fericit linga mica lui familie:)

Ii multumesc lui Dumnezeu pentru Flesh si ma bucur ori de cite ori aud ca e bine si fericit:)

Joseph the Strong

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

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First picture is of Joseph around one years old.

Second picture is of Joseph and Flavius.

Third picture is of Joseph and his wife Dana, this year:)

This particular blog is going to be emotionally very hard for me and you’ll find out soon why.

Between Delia and Joseph my mom lost another boy. He lived only five minutes after delivery due to heart complications.

Born the sixth child, I had a particular fondness for Joseph due to his sweet and humble nature. He did his very best not to cause problems into an already tumultuous environment and kept very quiet and out-of-the-way, often going without food until I would arrive from school around 2 pm. I would ask him if he ate and with the sweetest tone he would responded:

“No.”

“How come?”

“I didn’t want to bother mom.”

By now, due to the tole the pregnancies and the abuse from her husband took on her, my mother was very distant and moody. Thus, Joseph became my child and he started calling me “mommy” which made my heart radiate with love. I had a fearsome protective instinct over Joseph that pushed me into action. In my own way, I stood up for my younger siblings including my mother, in an effort to protect them. I felt responsible somehow for their safety. I was not 100% successful but something snapped in me one particular afternoon while on my way back from school. I was around twelve-years-old and Joseph around four-years old. I heard his painful cries all the way from the court yard; since it was warm outside the windows were open. The distance between me and him has never been as long as that particular day while I ran up the stairs and into the hallway of our apartment, where little Joseph had shrunk into a fetal position protecting his head with his little arms while my father hit him violently. Like a lioness seeing her cub in danger, and without hesitation, I ran between them covering his little body with mine, taking the hits for him. Shocked my father stopped- he had a weakness for his girls- and began yelling insults at me. I stood and faced him, chest high, gaze fixed into his with great determination refusing to move. I saw my father hesitate. Silently I was screaming at him: “Over my dead body.” Joseph was my child and suddenly my father became my enemy. I was determined to protect what was mine, no matter how big the enemy in front of me seemed. Even his slaps over my face and head or his crude insults didn’t make me flinch once as I turned my fixed gaze back at him, not one tear found in my eyes, simultaneously protecting Joseph behind me. Long enough I’ve witnessed this abuse without doing something about it. Long enough. From that day on a verbal war began between my father and I. For my remaining years in Romania I was the middle man in many circumstances. Also, from that day on all the twigs my father picked on his way home from work I secretly broke and got rid of.

It broke my heart when I had to leave Romania, after I married and today I just realized, leaving Joseph exposed and unprotected was a huge reason why. I felt secretly guilty about that for years.

Once gone, I heard Joseph and my younger brothers’s abuse doubled. Like I previously wrote, Marius had a very hard time through adolescence. I guess its as the saying goes: “Monkey see, monkey do.” Once that phase passed, Marius changed.

Joseph didn’t find refuge from the abuse until he entered college in Arad. I believe for a period of time he lived with Alin, who also went to collage, graduated and worked in Arad for many years before moving to Germany. Iosif also found refuge in the home of a young Christian family who sort of adopted him and cared for him greatly. Dana, who later on became his wife was the lady’s younger sister and that’s how they met:)

Joseph graduated college as an engineer and now works in a company run by his brother-in-law. Dana and Joseph have three fantastic children, one of them looks exactly like him. He’s involved in church ministry working with kids and even though it took him around five or six years, he built their home brick by brick, spending hundreds of hours in rain, cold and hot weather to finish. He pretty much built that house all by himself and they moved in it this year:)

With the exception of Alin, all my brother were and still are avid soccer lovers, spending many hours in the dust and confined apartment court yard playing.

Life was not easy for Joseph but God sure blessed him, just like he blessed the rest of us.  I thank God for taking care of him when I could not. He was always God’s child above mine and God took and is still taking good care of Joseph.

I could call him Joseph the Builder, but I think I’ll call him Joseph the Strong.

Delia cea Frumoasa

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

IMG_4474 Cu sotul ei, Sami in fotografie.

IMG_4661 Ei cu Delia inainte de a pleca ei in America:)

Nu este o surpriza pentru nimeni frumusetea Deliei, parca a fost facuta intru-un lan plin de flori si cine o vede ori zimbeste ori rivneste frumusetea ei.

A cincea dintre frati si surori, Delia a fost tacuta cind era mica dar si o fire determinata. Datorita distantei intre virstele noastre dar imi imagines si datorita lipsei de maturitate in tinerete din partea mea nu eram prea apropiate una de alta in adolescenta mea si copilaria ei. Ea sa cam pierdut in fundalul zgomotos al fratilor mei. Din fericire tata a avut o sensibilitate asupra fetelor lui si nu prea a fost batuta dar in schimb a fost ranita emotional. Cind ma uitam la Delia vedeam o atmosfera de mister pe fata ei. Delia e greau de citit, dar mi-a placut faptul ca aveam o sora.

Clar, Delia a avut multi admiratori de sexual opus in adolescenta ei dar ea a ramas credinciousa inimii ei si lui Dumnezeu.

Am fost extrem de impresionata cind am aflat ce artista buna e, si Delia a pictat multi pereti la viata ei, chiar si la orfelinatul fratelui Hada:) Mi-ar place sa va arat o fotografie cu o pictura de a ei dar nu am, deci Delia, trebuie sa-mi trimi-ti una:)

Dupa liceu, Delia a facut scoala de asistenta medicala si in cele din urme a ajuns in Italia, la Roma, unde a lucrat multi ani la spitalul Vaticanului in sectia de copii, la cazurile cele mai severe. Acolo a petrecut multe nopti nedormite si ore lungi in picioare. Tot in Italia, la intilnit pe Samin, sotul ei si impreuna au doi copii; o mini Delia si un mini Sami din punctul meu de vedere.

Anul trecut sa-u mutat inapoi in Romania impinsi de dorul de tara si economia slabita a Italiei. Tot anul trecut au inceput constructia casei lor la Marghita, aproape de Oradea si anul acesta a fost de mare ajutor mamei mele care la un moment dat era bolnava grav. Cu ajutorul Deliei, mama sa pus un pic pe picioare.

Ma bucur mult cind o vad fericita si implinita si deabea astept sa vad ce mai are Dumnezeu pentru ea in viitor:)

P.S Delia vorbeste trei limbi (Italiana, Romaneste si Engleza).

 

Delia the Beautiful

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

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First picture-Me and Delia (and a bit of Marius:)

Second picture- Delia’s family as of today:)

It’s no secret that Delia’s beauty is admired by many:) It’s like she was made in a field of beautiful flowers and everyone smiles when they see her (or gives her envious looks).

Born the fifth one, she was a quiet and very determined girl, in a sea of noisy brothers. She always had a tenacity about her and pushed for the things she wanted. Spared a lot of physical abuse- my father had a weakness for his girls- she endured her share of emotional insults and came out stronger for it.

Due to our age gap and my immaturity at the time, I wasn’t too close to my sister either but I loved having her around. To me she had a aura of mystery about her. Later on we had the opportunity to spend more time with each other and I found out, to my utter surprise, what a fantastic artist she is. Her paintings are absolutely beautiful, wish I had a picture of one of her painting to show it to you.

As you can imagine she had many suitors but she stayed true to her heart and her goals.

She finished nursing school in Romania, found a way to get to Roma, Italy and eventually she worked as a nurse in the Vatican Hospital for many years, in pediatrics more precisely. There she cared for many critical cases, tirelessly pulling many long hours as well as night shifts. In Italy she met and married her love, Sami and together they have two children. Their wedding was absolutely amazing and I had the privilege to be there with Chet:)

Last year they moved back in Romania and built their house, a big project that’s almost done. This year she’s helped tremendously with my ill mother and has been a God sent blessing. Can’t wait to see what she’ll do next. I’m glad to see her happy:)

 

 

Thank God for her life.IMG_4696

 

Sergiu cel rezistent

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

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De la stinga: Tibi, Sergiu si Iuli.

In copilarie Sergiu ne facea mereu sa ridem ca atare unul din poreclele lui a fost “The Jocker” sau “comicul”. Dar reflectind la viata lui Sergiu “cel Rezistent” se potriveste mai bine. Desi eram plini de vinatai si indurera-ti, in copilarie, Sergiu tot timpul avea o gluma   la indemina.

Din cei doisprezece frati si surori, el a fost cel mai abuzat, dar uitindu-te pe fata lui si la felul cum isi traieste viata nu ti-ai da seama. Are cea mai pozitiva atitudine si iarta repede. Intr-o zi l-am intrebat cum de poate sa uite asa repede si dind din umeri, mi-a raspuns:

“Nu dau atentie. Stiu ce veau sa fac si ma duc si-l fac. O sa iau bataie fie ca fac fie ca nu fac, asa ca mai bine fac.” Pentru Sergiu a explora si a invata ce are viata de oferit era mult mai important decit frica care parintele incerca sa o bage in el, prin violenta. Intr-un fel la pregatit pentru viata care o avea inaintea lui de trecut. A fugit in Germania dupa revolutie, a fost prins si dat inapoi. A doua oara a reusit, si a trebuit sa sacrifice a nu participa la nunta mea, sacrificiul care l-am inteles. Mai bine asa, decit sa vina inapoi si sa fie prins in ghiarele abuzului din nou si fara un viitor bun. Statea la rinduri in timpul comunismului toata noapte fie pe timp de iarna sau vara pentru un litru de lapte sau o piine. Avea darul bagatului in fata si rare ori venea acasa cu mina goala.

Acuma Sergiu stie legile Germaniei mai bine decit un neamt crescut acolo, si e bosul unei companii care aduce miilione de euro. Da comanda si instrueste acuma pe care vrea el, dar a luat mult sacrificiu si multa munca sa ajunga unde este acuma. Casatorit cu o nemtoaica, amindoi au o fata, Michelle, o casa tare faina si o viata buna.

Sergiu, de cind a facut un ban in buzunar a trimis inapoi si la familie si a ajutat tare mult. Mii de euro au plecat din buzunarul lui in tara. L-a adus si pe Leo si Nico in Germania si ia ajutat sa se stabileasca legal si cu post de munca.

De cind il stiu, il plac surprizele si ca atare a facut multe vizite-surpriza in tara:) Ii plac masinile de calitate:) si lucrul facut corect. Dar o gluma buna e cea mai indicata pentru el:) Am fost dintotdeauna mindra de el si asa va ramine pina mor.

Le sarea in ajutor fratilor mai mici si asa a primit o piatra in cap de si-a spart capul, dar nu sa lasat pagubas si a spart geamul inapoi celui care-i sparse capul.

Sergiu cel rezistent:)

Mi-e dor de el zilnic, ca si de ceilalti si ma bucur mult cind vad ca viata lui e binecuvintata:)

Multa-mi Doamne de fratii si surorile mele:)

Sergiu

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

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Sergiu the Resilient

In our childhood, Sergiu made us laugh constantly, thus one of his nick name, “The Joker.” But to me he’s more “The Resilient”. We sat all bruised and hurt after another one of our father’s angry episodes, but Sergiu found a way to always make us laugh bringing such light in a dark world, even if it had to be whispered.

Out of all twelve siblings, Sergiu was the third and abused the most, in a very hateful manner. But looking into his face now you would never know it. He has the most positive and forgiving nature, bouncing right back with such ease it amazed me. I asked him one day how he could do that. He shrugged his shoulders then responded:

“I just don’t think about it. I think of the things I want to do and do them even if I get in trouble. I’ll get in trouble no matter what, I may as well do what I want. It’s worth it.” To him exploring and having adventures was worth the pain he knew he would endure later on. In a way it prepared him for the tough life ahead. He ran illegally into Germany right after the revolution, got caught and sent back to more abuse only to try again. And he succeeded. He entered Germany with the clothes on his back and a small Bible, worked very hard and now he’s the COO of a multi-million dollar company in Berlin, married to Brigitte, a pure breed German girl and together they have one daughter Michelle:) He gives orders all day long and works with employees from many nations, has a house and a very nice life. He’s helped my parents and siblings financially for years. Since he had a few dollars in his pocket he always thought of the rest of the family and sent back thousands upon thousands of euros (or deutschmarks back in the time). He is known for his love to surprise you and pulled lots of surprise visits:)

Sergiu, the resilient:)

I remember caroling with Sergiu and Alin, and every house/apartment we entered Sergiu found a way to walk away full handed with something. He stood in those long nightmarish lines Romania and Eastern Europe was known for during socialism/ communism times, usually taking him all night long during Siberian winters temperatures just to get a few loaves of bread or one kilo of milk or half a butter or few eggs or one kilo of sugar or one kilo of oranges, you name it. He also had the wits to push in the front of the line and walk away with something when so many were left only with empty disappointments. (There was never enough food during that time, and just staying in a line for half a day did not promise a happy result). Sergiu had street smarts and gumption. Still does:)

Sergiu, the resilient. I miss him everyday:)

Alin

/ Carmen McKnight / Leave a comment

img_4622.jpgCel mai mare frate din noua si al doilea dintre noi, Alin are o prezenta naturala de sef:)  Este definit mai bine de iubirea lui fata de musica classica, in deosebi Beethoven, si cind nu lucreaza ca inginer in Germania unde sa stabilit momentan, este gasit pe scenele operei in multe tari dar in deosebi pe scenele nemtesti.

Amu, hai sa intram mai pe di ale noastri. Haline!!!!! Fratele meu!!!!! De ce esti asa diparti???? Imi aduc aminte cu mare drag de momentele petrecute cu ai mei frati si surori. Datorita anilor apropiati, am avut o legatura mai strinsa cu Alin si Sergiu, si mai tirziu am format prietenii mai strinse cu restul fratilor. Alin, o fire gingasa dar si un ghem de mister (ceea ce lui ii place:) a crescut tinind in el multa durere, in deosebi dupa ce a murit fratele nostru, Fanu. Alin si Fanu au avut o conectie speciala, bazata pe faptul ca semanau mult la chip si fire. Copil slabut si inalt ani de zile, Alin putea minca sarmale cu tonele, mai ales la nunti, dar mincarea lui preferata era si mai este piine cu un rind gros, si cind zic gros nu exagerez, de unt si miere. Acasa, eu gateam dar Alin cocea:) Ciocolata de casa i-a fost desertul preferat ani de zile, dar in general nu conteaza ce desert ieste in jur, Alin il va minca fara nici o plingere:)

E iubit de multi, desi am impresia ca se simte singur de multe ori.

Imi aduc aminte cind eram tineri, si el era asa de subtirel (ca restul de fapt), si cind Alin iti tragea o palma din joaca iti intorcea mufa si-ti schimba anatomia sheletului, asa ii era de grea palma. Un intelectual din nastere, zimbesc mereu cind vorbim la telefon, si nimeni nu ma face sa rid cum ma face Alin sa rid. (Sergiu la fel, dar in ultimul timp e obosit mai tot timpul.)

Intr-o vara cind am mers la bunica (de fapt strabunica) de la Ibanesti, ea ne-a lasat in grija gainilor. Bunica plecata de ceva timp in padure la cules de ciuperci si vreascuri, dar in realitate cred ca avea nevoie de citeva ore de liniste, si fara nimic de facut ne-am plictisit. Pe timpuri eram plina de energie si curiozitate, si tot timpul aveam idei de aventuri, stresindu-l pe saracul Alin care nu avea nici o pofta sa fie pedepsit.

“Hai sa mergem in papusoi (porum pentru cei care nu vorbesc moldoveneste:), Aline!”

“De ce?”

“Sa exploram! Haideeee, hai mai repede.” Am plecat fara sa ne dam seama ca nu am inchis poarta dupa noi, si in mijlocul explorarii noastre ne-am trezit cu niste gaini pe la picioare.”

“Hm, astea parca arata ca gainile lui bunica.” Amindoi am inghitit in sec si am inghetat pe loc.

“Ai inchis poarta dupa tine?”

“Nu. Nu mi-ai zis sa inchid poarta!” Sa rastit Alin inapoi continuind “Vezi daca ascult de tine! O sa ne omoare bunica acuma!” Pe moment am facut planuri sa fugim dar am stiut ca era plan prost.

“Ce facem acuma?”

“Tarnicerul! Ne ajuta el! Haide” Am raspuns fungind repede inapoi cu speranta ca vecinul bunicii care era stiut ca betivul satului era acasa si numai jumate beat. L-am gasit acasa. Desi beat ne-a dat instructiuni si ne-a ajutat sa fugarim gainile inapoi in ograda (curte:). A luat o ora si ceva, si nu am fost plesnita peste fata de atita papusoi in viata mea. I-am multumit vecinului sperind ca nu ne piraste. Am stat pe prispa dupa aia ca doi ingeri pina a venit bunica inapoi cu o legatura de vreascuri pe umeri si ciuperci in briu.

Am avut multe aventuri cu Alin in viata mea si cred ca vom mai avea, mi-e dor de el zilnic dar is fericita cind il vad fericit:) Stiu ca multi din voi care vor citi aceste rinduri ave-ti memorii frumoase cu el:) Ce sa stiu sa zic, Alin are stilul lui unicat de a comunica, pe care il iubim desi poate la inceput ne-a socat un pic. Aline ramii la fel, ca ne trebuiesti ase cum esti;)

Love you:)

P.S Porecla in trecut- grisina.

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:)