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Blog archive

May 2025

April 2025

March 2025

About Senior Solutions
03/28/2025

Building a Bridge With Journey House, A Home Base for Former Foster Youth
03/28/2025

Come for the Knitting, Stay for the Conversation... and the Cookies
03/28/2025

Creating Safe and Smart Spaces with Home Technology
03/28/2025

Finding Joy in My Role on The Pasadena Village Board
03/28/2025

I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!
03/28/2025

Managing Anxiety
03/28/2025

Message from Our President: Keeping Pasadena Village Strong Together
03/28/2025

My Favorite Easter Gift
03/28/2025

The Hidden History of Black Women in WWII
03/28/2025

Urinary Tract Infection – Watch Out!
03/28/2025

Volunteer Coordinator and Blade-Runner
03/28/2025

Continuing Commitment to Combating Racism
03/26/2025

Goodbye and Keep Cold by Robert Frost
03/13/2025

What The Living Do by Marie Howe
03/13/2025

Racism is Not Genetic
03/11/2025

Bill Gould, The First
03/07/2025

THIS IS A CHAPTER, NOT MY WHOLE STORY
03/07/2025

Dramatic Flair: Villagers Share their Digital Art
03/03/2025

Empowering Senior LGBTQ+ Caregivers
03/03/2025

A Life Never Anticipated
03/02/2025

Eaton Fire Changes Life
03/02/2025

February 2025

Commemorating Black History Month 2025
02/28/2025

Transportation at the Pasadena Village
02/28/2025

A Look at Proposition 19
02/27/2025

Behind the Scenes: Understanding the Pasadena Village Board and Its Role
02/27/2025

Beyond and Within the Village: The Power of One
02/27/2025

Celebrating Black Voices
02/27/2025

Creatively Supporting Our Village Community
02/27/2025

Decluttering: More Than The Name Implies
02/27/2025

Hidden Gems of Forest Lawn Museum
02/27/2025

LA River Walk
02/27/2025

Message from the President
02/27/2025

Phoenix Rising
02/27/2025

1619 Conversations with West African Art
02/25/2025

The Party Line
02/24/2025

Bluebird by Charles Bukowski
02/17/2025

Dreams by Langston Hughes
02/17/2025

Haiku - Four by Fritzie
02/17/2025

Haikus - Nine by Virginia
02/17/2025

Wind and Fire
02/17/2025

Partnerships Amplify Relief Efforts
02/07/2025

Another Community Giving Back
02/05/2025

Diary of Disaster Response
02/05/2025

Eaton Fire: A Community United in Loss and Recovery
02/05/2025

Healing Powers of Creative Energy
02/05/2025

Living the Mission
02/05/2025

Message from the President: Honoring Black History Month
02/05/2025

Surviving and Thriving: Elder Health Considerations After the Fires
02/05/2025

Treasure Hunting in The Ashes
02/05/2025

Villager's Stories
02/05/2025

A Beginning of Healing
02/03/2025

Hectic Evacuation From Eaton Canyon Fire
02/02/2025

Hurricanes and Fires are Different Monsters
02/02/2025

January 2025

A Tribute to Mom

By Edward A. Rinderle
Posted: 05/05/2025
Tags: ed rinderle

I loved both my parents.  And they both loved me.  But on this Mother's Day, I would like to focus on Mom.  My Mom.  I'd like to zero in on one event from my past that I think illustrates very well who my Mom was.

First, a bit of background.  I spent most of my elementary school years at a parochial school run by the church my family attended.  St. John was a bit unusual in that their school covered kindergarten through eighth grade.  But since high school didn't start until tenth grade, I had to attend “junior high”, a.k.a. “middle school”, for just one year.  Such a school, Marshall, was only two blocks from my home, so it was the obvious choice.

Marshall took good care of its 7th graders, helping them make the transition from the very different world of elementary school.  But there was no such help for us rare incoming ninth graders.  Ninth graders were supposed to know the ropes, and know them well!

I was totally unprepared for what awaited me. Marshall from the first day of classes threw all sorts of changes at me in rapid succession:  six different class rooms instead of one, different teachers in each class, the hustle and bustle of many more students, a locker for storing books between classes,  a gym class requiring students to (gasp !) change clothes and shower, and all kinds of rules about where a student could be and when without getting in trouble.  I found myself completely overwhelmed.  

Fortunately, since home was so close, I  could go there for lunch with my Mom.  I'm sure I worried my Mom with my daily downcast demeanor, and the confusion, even fright in my eyes.  On a few occasions, tears bubbled up in those eyes. And I reached to my Mom for a hug.  She obliged without hesitation.  There was no scolding, no “good advice”, no telling me to “shape up and act my age”.  (I was 13.)  She was just there with me in my anguish.  How hard it must have been to see me, day after day, walk out the door to return to Marshall for afternoon classes.  

It took me a few weeks to make the adjustments.  As I did, I found myself challenged as never before by the schoolwork, the teachers, and my classmates. I somehow found the strength to take on each challenge.  And thus, Marshall launched me into many years exploring life's adventures.  And a loving Mother, who hugged her son and dried his tears during those difficult weeks, had a hand in all of it.   

My dear Mom died on November 2, 2008, at the age of 86.  Her death left a large hole on my heart.  That hole has shrunk over the years, but it is still there.  

Thank you, Mom, for everything.

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