Sensible Sue

With the kids on the school bus and cats fed by 8:15a.m., this cloudy, cold winter morning was underway. Announcing my plan for the day to my office-bound husband, I waved to him as he drove off. I proceeded to check my email and edit an article as I said I would, when the rumble of the garbage truck bellowed from a not-so-distant street in the neighborhood. It's bulk trash day. I am trying to make life in a two bedroom 'seasoned' started house bearable for a family of four (plus cats), so I love bulk trash day. Knowing we're in for a snowstorm tonight, and being so tight on space, I saw an opportunity to open up some playroom real estate. My eyes bulged with the idea of getting that unsightly dresser from the porch out to the curb. I had decided to go for it and give a large donation to the curb from the playroom, making a weekend (and beyond) of 'cabin fever' more bearable.

I jumped up from my desk and threw open the playroom door, which also happens to be our enclosed front porch. I decided I was going to 'unearth' the weathered, peeling, stained, hunk of junk oversized bureau that has long been on my list of 'things to go'. Quickly, I began to clear a path to the far end of the cluttered room. Pens, markers, game pieces, scrap paper, gloves, boots, you name it, it was everywhere. Giving up on the 'sort as you go' method, I simply piled everything in the way of the bureau on the other side of the room. I kept three of the six drawers from the splintering bureau to sort later, my main mission of the moment was to get the furniture to the curb before the garbage truck pulled up. Aside from the pile of jackets, a toy chest, car seats, school supplies and dominoes, the bureau was blocked in by a coffee table, stacked with a stereo speaker and an old Sony computer monitor, which I wouldn't dare mess with. My husband wants to 'hold on to them', (sigh). This is why it is best that I be alone on bulk trash day.

 The rumble of the truck grew louder. I hadn't much time. I thought for a split second of the possibility that I would not make it to the curb in time. I even slowed down and said out loud, "nah, I'll never make it", but then remembered that as long as there is still a chance, it is possible. I pictured two scenarios; creating more space, and living in this overwhelming clutter one more day, so I cranked it up to 'double time' to side with progress. Within ten seconds, give or take, I had emptied the dresser and checked it over. Ignoring the mess this decision has caused, I managed to start rolling the dresser out of its corner. I had to climb onto the dresser to get to the door, once I did; there was no going back. I took a moment for parting words, almost thinking twice about everything. Seeing the warped, moldy back and cobweb-covered bottom made me feel good about my decision and so I hauled it to the curb.

I wondered if my neighbors were having a good time watching me on my mission. I had to single-handedly move this beastly piece of furniture out my door and down five steps to the sidewalk, where I could easily roll it to the curb. I did it! I got it out before the truck arrived, with time to spare. I had made a good decision. I returned to my porch and watched from the window. The truck had just arrived.

 Bulk trash in my town is every Friday. It's a good deal, I know. After 9 years as a resident in this neighborhood, I have developed a thirty second repoire with the garbage crew, who have been on the job almost as long as we have lived here. One of the crew in particular jokes with me about a few memorable bulk trash days from over the years. Oh, yes, he has seen me in action before. I have raced to the curb many-a-times. Seeing me peer from the window, he gestured with approval of my curbside donation. I opened the door; "you need help getting it into the truck?” I joked. It took two guys to get it into the truck, where it cracked into pieces. I saluted and waived it off.

Returning to my front room, I realized the amount of sorting; vacuuming and purging that will need to be done. Taking a deep breath, I walked past the clutter and returned to my desk. Right before the kids came home from school, I made a clearing in the playroom, enough for them to safely explore, as I knew they would.

When my husband got home, I admit, I felt l was about to live an episode of 'I Love Lucy', knowing I had some explaining to do. To my surprise, he did not fly off the handle like Ricky Ricardo, but he did think I was being impulsive. I can live with that.

Sometimes doing the right thing takes the collaboration of many. 

There is a charming church and school campus in my neighborhood. It sprawls over an acre through a historic neighborhood known as St. Cloud. The parish diligently raised money to build a simple, modern day parish center / gymnasium. They had been using a multi-purpose / lunch room / playground for all activities and sports until now. No doubt, this would be a great addition to the church and school. The town approved the plan and they are ready to begin an exciting new addition. 

When learning of this new development, I looked across the campus and pictured the building in place of the beautiful grove of trees so well trimmed and cared for over the years. Being it was spring, the thought of loosing a beautiful umbrella cherry blossom, several small apple trees and two hearty pines really sank my heart.

I spoke with Fr. Richard Francesco of St. Joseph's Church on Friday afternoon about a community volunteer effort to transplant the trees. He was delighted with the idea and gave me the authorization to ralley up a campaign to save the trees. He told me they were planning to begin construction in mid June, as soon as school lets out.  As long as it stays in the timeline and does not cost them anything, he was willing to pursue this. 

By good chance, I spoke with Sian Torres, Master Gardener of Morris County, whom I happened to meet at the Frelinghuysen Arboretum in Morris County the next morning. Though Sian was not part of my county, she suggested I contact my county master gardner and consider grafting the trees for transplant in the very least. Grafting the trees would save the root system for transplant when saving the entire tree is not possible.

The trees need to be properly classified, examined for health and determined if they would survive transplantation. Then, we need to find these magnificent trees new homes. These trees have been very well maintained. St. Joseph's may be able to transplant one or two of the trees elsewhere on campus, but the other six to nine trees are available to anyone within a close distance. We are looking for a landscaper or tree expert with the right equipment to move the trees in exchange for the reward of publicity. This story will likely be featured in periodicals and on the internet as well as with the parish of St. Joseph's.  

Transplanting trees requires expert guidance, special equipment and genuine understanding of the tree and its life cycle. It's not far from deciding to take in a new pet. You have to provide it a good home, water it, pick up its droppings and love it with pride as it grows through the years. 

In these days of eco-reversal, making up for a gluttonous past, we are all more conscious of reducing, reusing, recycling. With so many advantages in re-planting life-giving trees , why on Earth would it be alright to let these trees be cut rather than saved? Re-planting not only makes good sense, it nurouishes a good conscience within the community. 

Anyone with an interest in participating in this project should contact This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it as soon as possible.

I had the pleasure of taking my two young sons on a field trip to New York City recently.
My sons, ages six and three, were thrilled to ride on the trains to the city. I decided to take them to the Hudson River Playground as our destination. While I thought of every mobile convenience, such as drinks, handi-wipes, snacks, cell phone and backpack, what I failed to think of were the powerdul emotions that would be stirred by the sight of Ground Zero. 

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was home with my newborn son (now six). My husband had just left home to begin his commute to work in New York. He would catch a train to Hoboken connecting with a PATH train to 23rd Street in the Chelsea district, NYC. It was a stunningly beautiful day, weatherwise. Newsradio was on as I got myself ready for the day. I heard a report of a plane hitting the 'Twin Towers', so I turned on the television for a look. Early reports suggested this was a small charter plane. The pictures showed a tower charred from impact of what I thought was a single engine plane. 'Oh geeze', I thought, 'that's gonna leave a mark'. 

And so, as the reports of the event kept me glued to the television, I began to think of my history with the 'Twin Towers'.   

In the 1970's, my neighborhood friends and their father invited my brother and me to join their family for a pre-opening tour of the amazing 'Twin Towers'. Living in New Jersey, we had been watching the construction from nearby and were honored to have a private tour. We piled into their station wagon and had a wonderful time. From that day on, I felt a special connection to the World Trade Center.

In the early 1980's my parents treated me to brunch at Windows on the World, the world class restaurant at the top of the North Tower. In the late 1980's, I was a young adult. I commuted to the the Wall Street district via PATH train into the WTC where I would ride the steepest escalator up to the shopping mall, and on to the street level. I loved being part of the ultra-hip, suit-scene in the financial district.

In the 1990's, I  worked for American Express. Though I mainly stayed in New Jersey for my job, the American Express offices and training facility was in the downtown district, where I easilly attended several training classes and meetings. The WTC parking garage car bomb in 1993 made me think of New York as being as much a target as any international city, but I maintained that false sense of security of thinking - "this is the United States, THAT doesn't happen HERE!", Prior to the having my first child, I considered pursuing a job in the 7 World Trade Building. It was an exciting, historic and professionally fulfilling place to be.  I took pride in showing out-of-town visitors the impressive towers and the memorable view from high above the city.

August, 2001, two weeks prior to the September 11th events, my husband took his teenage daughter, visiting for the summer, to the South Street Seaport and Wall Street district for a tour, The two of them ended a marvelous day at the top of the World Trade Center observation deck during sunset. They took dozens of photographs and even had their picture taken outside the elevators on the observation deck. We still had that souvenior photograph on the refridgerator at the time of the attacks.

September, 2001, my brother invited my parents back to the Windows on the World for a wine tasting event.   

I watched as the second plane hit. Oh my God! It's a suicide mission. We are under attack! 

My husband was now on his way into New York. I wondered if he knew what was going on from the train. I had no way to get in touch with him because we didn't have cell phones yet. Not fearing for his immediate safety, I knew he was en route to Chelsea, and not the WTC. Still, it was obvious, the city was going into a lock-down, and he needed to just get back home.

As the catastrophic events unfolded on live television, with the threat of hijacked planes crashing in other locations, I looked at our newborn child, knowing the world as we knew it would never be the same. I wondered what kind of world he would grow up in.

Like so many that day, I was continuously on the phone with frantic family and friends accounting for everyone we know, exchanging info, and sharing emotions. My brother-in-law worked for Cantor Fitzgerald on the 102nd floor of the North Tower. He was late getting out the door to work that morning, and it saved his life. Cantor was one of the hardest hit companies in the Twin Towers. I kept even-keeled so as not to upset my newborn baby. (That's an honest excuse for the shock I was in over it all.)

Now my baby is a fun, six-year-old boy with a little brother. Our train-riding field trip to New York this summer was an adventure for them. It occurred to me during this innocent field trip that my children represent the post-9/11 generation. They will always have security issues,  communication devices, suspicions and fears of something like this happening so close to home again. They may learn the history of these horriffic events as they grow, but they may never fully feel the deep emotional connection, nor will they ever look across the river upon the famous skyline as it once was, but I promise they will always share my pride in it.

SensibleSue.com has articles based on real-life situations using humor, intelligence, and, of course, sensibility. Making a Second Life debut, SensibleSue.com has loyal readers from around the world. Described as a 'modern day Erma Bombeck', SensibleSue not only puts real-life into perspective, but now, 'Second Life', too! 

SensibleSue has opened a location in Second Life, the virtual world phenomenon.

You can find SensibleSue-SL at 42 Cartland Way, Book Island, Media World, SL (137,208,36).

SensibleSue is 'Nasus Dumart' in Second Life.

Nasus Dumart makes her 'SL' home in Wichi. Visit Molaskey's Pub and Wichi Riverwalk where you'll not only find Nas, but several other interesting characters. 

See you in-world! 

My 40th birthday happens to be today, July 9th, 2007. Being so close to a national holiday, I have deemed this the 40th of July. 

Birthdays are a personal holiday, of sorts. I don't expect banks and business to close in my honor. I don't expect a magical day of discovery. To many, it is simply a Monday, but to me, it is a day to take a look at where I've been and where I want to go from here. 

In my 40 years, I have been educated, though I have lost a few brain cells, and I have several experiences on which to reflect. I have been brave and humble. I have been right and wrong, clever and foolish. I have had days of glamor and days - er, months of no make-up, ponytails and comfy old clothes (babies will do that to a person).

I am still friends with people from my childhood, and connected to new friends as if I have known them all my life. I am healthy, physically fit (not model fit, just fit) and I am devoted to my life as wife and mother.

So, on this pinnacle day of personal insight, I see where I have been and now make a definitive choice about where it is I want to go.

I want stability, respect, adventure, more humor, less stress. I want the ability to help others as others have helped me. I want to travel more, show the world to my kids. I want to have romantic dates with my hard working husband (also in his 40's). 

I want to become a role model of environmental efficiency. I want to raise my children in good conscience. I want to grow a lavish garden, and be in tune with wildlife. I want to acheive a balance of nature and technology. I want to be in tune with microscopic and cosmic universes, as I believe they are the key to understanding our universe.

Declaring what I want is easy. Attaining it is the challenge. There have obstacles in my way. Whether those obstacles have been intellectual, physical, financial or emotional, I now realize they are all things within in my control. I simply have to make the choice to focus on what I want, not what is stopping me from acheiving these.

Life can be satisfying or disappointing. With my new-found wisdom, I stand upon this platform on my 40th birthday and declare where I want to go from here. In taking my own advice on making good choices, I will approach the path to personal fullfillment with the ability to reduce every choice down to what is ultimately right or wrong, good or bad. It may take me a decade to decidedly acheive this personal satisfaction, but on this day, I begin anew.