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This year I decided to wow the children by decorating my carrot cake with plastic Christmas decorations, including all the basics from Santa to wrapped presents. Much to my surprise, when I presented the (not prize-winning) dessert to my [...]]]> We never really know what’s going to be a hit at Christmas. I remember quite distinctly the year my then pre-school niece Caitlin, upon opening her Fisher-Price toy purse, exclaimed “Tissues!” with glee as she explored the contents. You just never know.

This year I decided to wow the children by decorating my carrot cake with plastic Christmas decorations, including all the basics from Santa to wrapped presents. Much to my surprise, when I presented the (not prize-winning) dessert to my guests, it was the adults who reacted, with accolades and cell phone cameras flashing. Pretty soon my creation was immortalized on Facebook, of course. The only child who commented was my granddaughter Opal. She had a worried look on her face. Was the cake pretend?

I wish you holiday pleasures (like mine) in unexpected places.

I should have used a Christmas plate!

Although I live in the borough, I knew nothing about the [...]]]> Maybe I was cranky, jaded or just plain tired. Whatever the reason, my enthusiasm for the holidays was definitely missing. How does a person who delights in life’s simple pleasures lose her way when it comes to Christmas? Fortunately, what was lost was found at Holiday Cheer and all that JAZZ, a concert by The Rum Runners Quintet presented by 12 Twelve Miles West Theatre Company in Rutherford, New Jersey.

Although I live in the borough, I knew nothing about the concert’s 50-seat performance space, which is located on Park Avenue behind the restaurant Pizzamore/Blimpie, before my good friend Terry told me about the event. But I was quick to say I would go. There are two things that I know for sure—my friend is a discriminating woman of good taste and talented jazz musicians are sometimes found in the most unlikely places.

I was not to be disappointed. The four instrumentalists Robert Edwards (trombone), John Lenis (bass), Adam Lomeo (guitar and mandolin) and Billy Test (piano), along with vocalist Vanessa Perea demonstrated that when the right musicians are involved, terrific music can happen anywhere. They also provided a close-up look at how jazz artists are engaged not only in their music, but also with their fellow performers and the audience.

I thank them for their wonderful holiday tunes, well arranged and performed favorites that evoked more than applause but sighs and laughter too. I guess I’ll have to have a Merry Christmas after all.

The Rum Runners Quintet in Rutherford, New Jersey on December 2, 2012.
L to r: Adam Lomeo, John Lenis, Vanessa Perea, Robert Edwards and Billy Test.

When I watched the Democratic convention—I watched most of both—I thought a lot about Grandpa. Before he became an elder statesman of our family, he was just Daddy. He was humble and low-key. He never thought one person had all of the answers, or that one person alone should make the rules. Although he has been gone for ten years, I know what he would have said about the conventions. Be informed [...]]]>

Joseph A. Yodzio, Better Known as Grandpa, During WWII

When I watched the Democratic convention—I watched most of both—I thought a lot about Grandpa. Before he became an elder statesman of our family, he was just Daddy. He was humble and low-key. He never thought one person had all of the answers, or that one person alone should make the rules. Although he has been gone for ten years, I know what he would have said about the conventions. Be informed and then—vote!

We have this photo, but it’s hard to imagine Grandpa as a soldier in wartime. He did tell great war stories, most of which ended up with him landing in the brig. After his death in October 2002, someone would note that for the rest of his life after this photo was taken he would be the same, that is, bad clothes, bad socks, bad haircut. I’m sure that would have made him laugh too.

The day began with the good fortune of being able to enter at the charming Rainey Gates, a rare opportunity usually not available in the warmer months when the parking spots at this entrance fill early. As we approached the Rockefeller Fountain, an impressive structure with elaborate sculpture that was relocated to the zoo from Italy in 1903, [...]]]> A recent trip to the Bronx Zoo on a cold day in January was a perfect way to stave off the winter blues.

The day began with the good fortune of being able to enter at the charming Rainey Gates, a rare opportunity usually not available in the warmer months when the parking spots at this entrance fill early. As we approached the Rockefeller Fountain, an impressive structure with elaborate sculpture that was relocated to the zoo from Italy in 1903, we entered a unique place that would afford us a truly special day.

We were officially welcomed by the very vocal sea lions, who were more active than I ever remember seeing them in spring, summer or fall. As we slowly went through the exhibit called Madagascar!, observing the lemurs with great interest, I tried to recall the last time the word lemur had even crossed my mind. At almost every indoor location we had an excellent view of the animals, often getting close enough that it was easy to forget there was glass between them and us. The crowds were light, and the mood indoors and outdoors was relaxed.

I’m sure the gorilla, who stood directly in front of me seemingly oblivious to the human beings just a few feet away, was the most impressive animal I saw. That was thrilling! Still, as always, the giraffe house was my favorite stop. The giraffes with that funky but delightful phony scenery behind them put on the best show. I always find it fascinating to watch their expressive faces and their graceful, dance-like movements. This visit, I got to see two giraffes neck (yes, that’s the right word) and a youngster have lunch courtesy of his mother.

As I said, the humans were pretty chill too. I saw few grumpy grown-ups or unhappy children. Many of them made their own fun, including the little boys who grinned widely as they entertained themselves by walking backwards through the park. I guess no one told them that the Bronx Zoo could only be enjoyed in the warm weather.

Photos

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Most of us often think about cancer, but I suspect we do that more during October because it is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

It’s true what they say, I’m sure—everyone’s life has been affected by cancer. My experience in that regard has involved people I care about, but also has been unique to that of a writer. I have had the privilege of interviewing people who have had cancer and individuals [...]]]>

2009 Walk for Awareness: Our Fight Against Breast Cancer

Most of us often think about cancer, but I suspect we do that more during October because it is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

It’s true what they say, I’m sure—everyone’s life has been affected by cancer. My experience in that regard has involved people I care about, but also has been unique to that of a writer. I have had the privilege of interviewing people who have had cancer and individuals who have lost loved ones to the disease. By phone, in person, by email, people have put their trust in me to tell their story and spread their message.

When I first did these interviews, I was uncomfortable, worried that I would either not ask enough or be too probing. I didn’t want to upset anybody or cause concern about the outcome of the interview. It was particularly difficult to speak with somebody who was not in remission or living with a poor prognosis. I soon realized that the people telling their story had conquered fears far greater than those associated with being the subject of a publication or feature article.

I’ve been told that it is validating to see one’s own thoughts and feelings in print. If that’s a service I provide, I’m glad. But I suspect it is the writer and readers of these always inspiring stories who benefit the most. My very best wishes and thanks to all who have so generously shared with me their thoughts, feelings and occasionally a few tears. Writing about people touched by cancer is a truly awesome part of my life.

This essay, which I wrote about myself before I started The Red Wagon Group, still applies.

I’ll never forget the conversation. I was starting a new job the next morning. The position had struck me as a perfect fit, one of those it-has-my-name-on-it situations. I was excited and elated. Then those deadly words came out of his mouth…

The speaker was my husband, my best friend, confidant, business advisor and sweetheart. [...]]]>

Kathleen Mathieu around the time she launched her career in PR

This essay, which I wrote about myself before I started The Red Wagon Group, still applies.

I’ll never forget the conversation. I was starting a new job the next morning. The position had struck me as a perfect fit, one of those it-has-my-name-on-it situations. I was excited and elated. Then those deadly words came out of his mouth…

The speaker was my husband, my best friend, confidant, business advisor and sweetheart. “Do you really know how to do this?” he blurted out. “This” was my new job, and “blurted out” was surely what he did as he rarely zaps me with cruel and potentially devastating questions.

Fortunately, not only was my confidence way up and the I-will-succeed-because-I-have-no-choice piece of my personality in full gear, I honestly believed I was qualified, and I found humor in his untypically tactless remark. The new position was perfect, and I spent six happy, productive years working in it.

The discussion often comes to mind when I view the fast-tracked twists and turns of my career, which has been personally and professionally rewarding. Although I have held claim to a variety of job descriptions, I have been fortunate to build a career rooted in my talents, life plan and personal interests. A skilled imaging and communications expert, I have proven myself in many arenas, especially benefitting from diversified work environments in my search for excellence and growth.

After one year as a teacher and four years as a customer service troubleshooter and credit investigator for a Wall Street brokerage firm, I became a stay-at-home mom. During that time, I did volunteer programming for my daughter’s elementary school and public relations for a parents’ support group. I didn’t realize then that I was launching a new career when I called an editor at The Record, my daily newspaper, and asked how to get my group in the paper.

Soon, I was back in the paid workforce, teaching on a substitute and permanent basis. Having my own class was a wonderful experience. I derived great satisfaction from overcoming the obstacles that were part and parcel of teaching a large class in an urban setting. Part of my success in that position resulted from the formation of a squad of seven volunteer helpers who spent many hours listening to my little ones read on a one-on-one basis. This was the first time I really appreciated the power and possibility of community involvement.

Although the work was tremendously rewarding and my students exceeded expectations in more than one way, financial demands and a desire to better meet my own needs motivated me to move on.

A lifelong desire to be a journalist was fulfilled through a stint with a regional newspaper. I started as a correspondent, and I was soon asked to go on staff when I began writing most of the paper’s original copy. And write I did: news, features, advertising, even poems. Whatever they needed, I was willing to do. I even managed to make sense of an assignment to interview a dog that did nothing during the meeting but hold a toy rubber fire hydrant in his mouth and drool on me.

Being a reporter was fun and I loved the whole thing—the crazy hours, the people, researching and learning about new topics, the deadlines, having a creative outlet.

It was this job that transformed me into a public relations professional. The subject of one of my stories asked me to apply for a position in her school district. Although she took me completely by surprise, I ultimately decided to take the job as director of public relations for a grant-funded career counseling and women’s center.

The importance of the work and the intelligence and creativity of my co-workers made this a terrific environment for me. I had a good product, and, boy, did I sell it. It was here that I discovered that I had quite a knack for media relations. We went full circulation, and we did it often. I also was responsible for publications and event programming.

Moving into healthcare was easy. I went on staff as the assistant director of a public relations department for a community hospital. Media and special events were my main concerns at first, but I quickly took on other responsibilities, such as community relations, publications and advertising. Within my first two years with the department, I created and directed a 13-month-long centennial celebration that included everything from a festival in the park attracting thousands to coverage by the top three morning news shows. During my six-year tenure, the department evolved into an extremely busy and diverse marketing and communications department. It was an “if–you-can-dream-it-you-can-do-it” environment, and that suited me just fine.

In 1996, I was recruited to be a senior manager of an urban healthcare system desperately in need of a comprehensive communication plan. I not only jumpstarted the marketing and public relations for the organization, I revived a struggling fundraising calendar and participated in many special projects.

From time to time, people ask me, “What do you do, anyway?” Sometimes I tell them about one of my favorite success stories, and the one that probably describes my skill set best. When I worked at the community hospital, I was asked by the CEO for a favor. Would I, could I, please, get the poems written by the gentleman who ran the boiler room at night published? A negative response was not an option since The Boss had already promised the man it would be no problem for me to do that. The whole thing was complicated by the fact that this sweet, kindly boiler room man usually wrote about his feelings for his wife. Needless to say, the pressure was on and the mission seemed impossible.

But, I wouldn’t be beat. At that time, The Record had a regular short feature called “Love Story.” I was able to sell the story idea to a reporter, who promised to write about the couple even if she couldn’t print the poems. When she arrived with the photographer, I escorted them down, down to the rarely visited boiler room. A discussion ensued whereupon I informed her that the great American poet William Carlos Williams had practiced medicine in that very building. What started out a brief column ended up to be a full-page story comparing Bart the Boiler Man to one of the most highly acclaimed poets of the twentieth century.

Somehow, I had managed to pull it all together. The reporter had a great story. The photo was particularly sweet. The hospital enjoyed some good publicity. Bart not only got some of his poems in print, he also was able to profess his love for his wife publically. And of course, the CEO received Bart’s thanks and the lion’s share of the credit for the story.

I had succeeded in doing my job by applying a little creativity and determination to what might have struck the faint-hearted as a hopeless situation. To this day, I still smile when I think of the many Barts I’ve met and all of the many supposedly ordinary people and situations that I’ve encountered that were really quite extraordinary after all.

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