Positive Attitudes With A Baking Twist

Posts tagged ‘Memory’

In Memory Of Joan Rivers

JR  In memory of Joan Rivers, a powerful force and pioneer in the world of comedy.

It was always a great pleasure to watch her on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson and when she became the regular guest host and of course her show, Fashion Police.

With all the ups and downs she experienced her resilience to succeed and come back is an inspiration to all of us, both in and out of the entertainment industry.

Life is about taking chances and Joan Rivers took chances and never looked back.

I will miss your presence but know your works will endure.  The light you shared and all who you knew and mentored will radiate from your touch and live on in the hearts and memories of all of us who you influenced to move forward in living life.

Celebrating Your Life,




Thursday Thought, No Fear

The Thursday Thought, No Fear, is by Ernest Holmes.

“Fear robs memory of happiness because it dwells upon the limitations and morbidities of the past; it robs the future of pleasurable and enthusiastic anticipation because it casts a shadow of its past into the future; it robs today of the possibility of fulfillment because it denies the good we might experience in the moment in which we live.”

A Walk In New York

A Walk In New York

     In Memory of my cousin Sam, FDNY, his fellow firefighters at Engine 54, 4 Truck, Batt. 9, Pride Of  Midtown, the fallen of the FDNY, NYPD and all who gave their lives on this infamous day. 

      I have just returned from a trip, which included a stay in New York City.

      On our ride from the airport to the hotel in midtown, we looked out across the river at the majestic New York skyline.  The Empire State Building, standing tall and proud punctuated the sunset of bright pinks, oranges and grays, the upper stories bathed in red, white and blue lights.  To the far right, in the financial district, a gaping hole, evidence of the destroyed World Trade twin towers.  As we pointed to the WTC area a hush fell over us, a usually joking and laughing crew on a four day trip.  It was an especially sobering experience for me, a New Jersey native transplanted to the south.

      When I had picked up this trip I told my wife I was going to Ground Zero to pay my respects and pray for those who were killed, also, to give thanks for all the heroes who were and are still at this site of horrific devastation.

      On my way to check in for this trip I met a captain I know, as our conversation turned to, “Where are you laying over?”  I said, “New York City,” and mentioned I was going to Ground Zero.  Our short conversation ended with him asking me to “shed a tear” for him.  My friend, I shed many a tear at Ground Zero, as am I in writing this article.

      When we arrived at our hotel each of us went out on our own.  We were to meet the next morning at 10 a.m. to go to Ground Zero.

       Slowly walking down 8th Ave., I felt a difference in this city that never sleeps.  The aura of this city was not the same I knew as a boy or adult.  A clear and heavy hand reached down and touched my soul that evening.  Continuing my evening walk, the street was virtually pedestrian and traffic free,  I paused at a restaurant with a lighted sign at the door stating dinner specials, at the bottom in large writing it read, “Donations accepted here for WTC fund,” underneath it was a pink heart, I wiped away my tears.  Yes, this city had changed at the very depths of its being.

      Standing on the corner of 8th and 50th I phoned my wife to share with her my evening experiences and the dramatic change in the aura of this great city.

    The next morning we took the A train to Canal Street.  When the doors opened at our stop the faint odor of smoke filled the car.  As we walked up the stairs to street level the odor of smoke grew stronger.

    We passed a high rise red brick building, a two story handmade sign hung from the windows, it read, “I LOVE NY & HEROES,” a chill ran up and down my spine.

    As we walked, each block taking us closer, the odor of smoke intensified.  The sight of ashes on windows and buildings was now obvious.

    Walking around City Hall droplets of water and ash fell upon us from the window washing crews. 

    Blown out windows, tarps on the side of buildings, security personnel in greater numbers; the outer edge of a war zone. 

    Down to Wall Street.  As we continued our walk, the strong odor of smoke filled our nostrils, as ash covered buildings filled our line of sight.

    Our first sight of Ground Zero was minimal.  The more we walked, the more we saw.  As I passed a clothing store I looked in the half open door, clothes still on the racks layered in beige ash from the attack on September 11th .  Windows, which once displayed glittering jewelry, held black velvet covered in the ashes of death and senseless destruction.

    I was oblivious to my fellow crew members, the crowd and the noise.  All I could say was, “Oh my God,” as we walked the fenced perimeter.  Workers filed in and out of this secured area.

   A haggard firefighter walked by, wiping dust from his brow.

   Numbed by what I saw I could not believe the vast destruction.  My mind and emotions were overwhelmed.

   We passed fences with posters, pictures, flowers and prayers attached to them.  Along the fenced off areas were candles flickering in the morning breeze on the sidewalks with prayer cards at their bases.

  Standing at a barricade I leaned forward watching our flag proudly wave in the wind over the rubble that was once the WTC, tears began to flow.  Through the tears I prayed for all.

  Phoning my wife at work I told her I was at Ground Zero watching the cranes remove twisted steel and concrete.  To my right the remnant of a building, steel beams twisted and misshapen.  Tears flowed; I told her I’d call her back.  My sobbing was uncontrollable.

  There was a large bronze memorial statue by our hotel, dedicated to all the rescue workers.  It portrayed an exhausted firefighter down on one knee.  Candles, flowers and prayers covered the platform.  My eyes filled, blinking back tears I walked to our van to head back to the airport, it was a quiet and long ride.

  Unknown to me at the time my cousin, a firefighter in midtown-Engine 54, 4 Truck, died getting people out of the towers.

This may only be reproduced in any media or medium with the expressed permission and authorization of the author. Jay                       

To reblog please ask in comment section and I will reply.  Jay  






            ©2001 J. Cannizzaro







   Miracles.  Many years ago there were a few of us who entered the ministry within a few months of each other.  One of those was our friend, Rev. Helen; she, at that time, had a church in Hawaii.  While we were on holiday there we met for lunch one day.  As a preface to this let me state, we were/are practitioners of a spiritual healing technique call Spiritual Mind Treatment.  In order to enter the ministry one had to have proof of at least three individual documented case histories that had a healing; with doctor confirmation that the condition no longer existed, or other verifiable documentation. Helen, being innovative and one to speak her mind, called miracles “ordinaries,” as they happen all the time in life, both my wife and I were really impressed with her new word and shared it with my congregation upon our return home. 

Miracles are “Ordinaries” in which both of us believe as well as Divine Intervention.

Just look at what we say when we find a parking space near a mall entrance at holiday times, “It’s a miracle I found this space.”  Think about it…how many times do you say, “It’s a miracle,” more than once in awhile I’ll wager.   

Some years ago I saw an older gent collapse, through all this we had direct eye contact, a doctor who saw the event took his vitals and told those who were there to render aid that the older gentleman had passed on; no attempt to revive him.  Having worked in a hospital I was familiar with the look of death in the eyes, which he had. Still maintaining eye contact and as many watched the goings on his body suddenly arched and life returned to him and his eyes.  It was not his time and that my friends, was an awe inspiring experience for me. Miraculous, yes, it was an Oh My God Moment to the nth degree. 

Miracles are not out of the ordinary, in fact throughout the ages we have been told that we are capable of many things and are powerful if we have but the “faith of a grain of mustard seed.”   The miracles we seek are at our finger tips, so to speak, the miracle power resides within our hearts and minds. The miracle is but our recognition of the divine power within us to bring forth that which we have believed without question.

Take time to consider your inner power, the power of your spoken word, and ability within you to live the life you choose, to be as successful as you desire, to be; prosperous, wealthy, healthy, and the like.  Focus on where you want to go and stop looking at what you don’t want. Give your undivided attention to your forward moving desire/goal and stay the course.  I paraphrase Isaiah, “So shall my word go forth to accomplish that for which it was sent and it shall not return unto me void.”

By no means are you ordinary.  You are an extraordinary expression of Life Itself, experiencing lots and lots of wonderful “ordinaries.”

In loving recognition and memory of a very dear friend, Rev. Helen.


Today’s Positive Thought

  Today’s Positive Thought.   Remember.  

   Thank you!  Please remember to take a minute at 3 p.m. to say a prayer. 

   In Memory of friends and family who served and are serving.  

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