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can be dangerous for Over 50% of seniors in the U.S. don’t have the health literacy to find and comprehend medical information. Researchers advice health providers to simplify their reports.

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Our mission starts this weekend by sharing with local people in need. We will share over 100 pairs of shoes for the seniors, homeless, and shelters.

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Soap opera star Susan Lucci's 2018 brush with disease shows just how different a heart attack looks like in , compared to men. Here are five things all women should know and probably don't.

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Philadelphia Scrapple

by Carlotta Fareira    02/26/2019              

I grew up in Philadelphia enjoying breakfasts of scrapple and eggs and or scrapple sandwiches with jelly.   

When I reached my twenties, I began to think a lot about nutritious, healthy foods.  Scrapple was eliminated; as was sausage and bacon.  In fact when my children were between 10 and twenty if they saw me preparing any breakfast meats they would ask, ”Who’s coming?”

Last Thursday my sister who lives in Hyattsville, MD called to say that she and her son would be traveling to Philly on Friday.  She said that they would be arriving early and would be returning to Maryland around 2:00 p.m.  My nephew is a musician and the weekends are his busiest times.

I texted my nephew to let him know that I would have breakfast ready by 7:00 a.m.  I told him to text me when he entered PA.  He said, “Great!”.  I let my son know that his aunt and cousin would be in town so he might as well come for breakfast, too.

I rarely cook for guests anymore.  It gets harder with age.  I shopped with joy.  I bought all kinds of foods that I knew they would enjoy.

I received a text at 6:45 a.m. saying that they had entered Pennsylvania.  I began preparing the meal.  I had sliced and buttered bagels.  They were warming in the oven.   There was fresh fruit on the table and coffee simmering.  I had fried the Habbersett’s scrapple just right.  The eggs were cracked, beaten and ready to scramble.  I would cook them as soon as I saw their car in the driveway. 

They arrived at 7:25. I scrambled the eggs.  After greeting each other and taking seats at the table I took out the covered dishes, plated the eggs and blessed the food and gave thanks for the safe trip. 

The bagels were uncovered, the eggs served and the last tray was uncovered.  In unison everyone said, “Scrapple!”  Perfect!  It was as if I had travelled back 50 or 60 years.  They were thrilled.  Scrapple is on the “No, no list.  So, these days it is a real treat when scrapple is served. 

That will always be a best day memory as it made me recall the good ole days of scrapple sandwiches and family gatherings.   

The Griot

by  Carlotta Fareira      03/05/2019

Officially, a Griot is a West African historian, storyteller, praise singer, poet, or musician.  The griot is a repository of old tradition and is often seen as a leader due too his or her position as an advisor to royal personage. I believe That we all are griots.  We always have a story to tell.  How wonderful it is at family gatherings to hear of the exciting, sad, frightening, celebratory, or enlightening events that have occurred. Right now in my family as far as we know, my sister, brother and myself are the oldest living members.  We range in age from 81 to 86.  That covers from 1932 to the present. The stories are bountiful and we enjoy telling them.

Today I write about three griots that I have met at Center in the Park.They all know how to tell a story.  They have very different styles, but deliver with grace, creativity and the wink of understanding that is essential in story telling.  Two have been published and cover many topics when creating orally or in written form.  It is always a delight to listen and observe as they weave the web of interest and draw their listeners to the point of Amen!

The third is new to me as an oral poet.  I heard her for the first time as she recited “The Creation”, by James Weldon Johnson.  It was done with almost a silent reverence setting the scene for what was to come.  She used body language to convey the wonder that had transpired.  She lifted the audience on her words of praise so that they felt the wonders were happening right there and then.  Well done! You know the griots of which I speak.  Blessed, motivated, creative and inspirational.
Victoria, RuNett, and Angela

Women’s Day

by   Angela Wright 3/19/19

National Women’s Day comes in the month of March.  There are lots of rallies and marches to celebrate that day.  I don’t know how much rallies accomplish, but I am glad that women are recognized in some way.
I recall spending a week in South Africa in the month of August 2010.  I was invited by a friend, Linda.  She was a missionary from California.  August was National Women’s Month.  We flew from California to Uganda.  From Uganda we took a six hour flight to Johannesburg, South Africa.  Then we took a ten seated plane to Pretoria, South Africa.  It was no fun on that small plane.

During Women’s Month all of the churches held special services twice a day. One at  7:00 a.m. for those who had to go to work and one in the evening at 6:00 p.m.  Both services were attended by hundreds of people.  My friend had been there before.  She told me to be prepared to speak sometime before the week was over.

The ladies from South Africa told about the fight for equal rights during the time of apartheid.  They told of how they had marched and fought for their freedom.  It was a little strange being in Africa with Black and White Africans.  That is because I had been taught that all Africans were Black.  I was treated very well, especially when they heard my friend and I speaking with our American accents.
There were two days left before we were to return to Uganda.  The front desk notified me that I had a phone call waiting.  It was one of the pastors calling to ask me to speak at his church at 8:00 a.m. the next morning.  I had really thought that I was going get by without speaking.


    by     Carlotta Fareira            (03/19/2019)

Someone said, “Write about the last famous person you met.”  Well, I consider these women famous as they are very well known in the entertainment field.  They are quite talented and have traveled the world performing.  
They each perform, write, produce, and teach their craft.  One plays the guitar and the other the violin.  They are Monnette Sudler, guitarist and Diane Monroe, jazz violinist.
My most recent contact with them was at a CD release.  They have collaborated with Trapeta Mason, a poet.  The CD is titled, “How We Got Through”.  The blending of their talents has generated a wonderful CD.
I met Monnette Sudler at Center in the Park many years ago.  She was teaching the rudiments of guitar playing.  She is an excellent teacher because of her patience and genuine concern for her students.  I learned how to play a few tunes on the guitar: something that had never entered my mind to do.
Since those classes awakened an interest in guitar music I have attended many shows where she and her fellow musicians have performed.
She faced a life threatening crisis about four years ago.  Her lungs were failing and she  needed a transplant if she were to survive.  I attended a support concert for her.  Musicians from everywhere came to participate.  Two weeks later the special concert she received a double lung transplant.  What a miracle!  God is the reason!  I spoke to her one week after the surgery and was amazed.  She said it was like being reborn.  She has gone on from there dealing with issues that those with transplants face.  Her gift continues to spread peace, joy and inspiration to others.
I have seen Diane Monroe at The Kimmel Center and other Philly venues, but never had the opportunity to speak to her.  When she performs she and the violin become one.  Her energy, creativity and joy carry you with excitement.  You wonder how she dances on those strings to achieve the marvelous sounds that emanate.
These two women were given gifts which they have nurtured, developed, extended and shared with many, many, many fortunate listeners.
Each time I see or speak to them I am rewarded by the fantastic chords that echo in my memory:  Always a best day.


Alison Taylor - The Hunting
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