… They always told me I had one!!!
Jane Parmel
Jane Parmel is a co-owner of several businesses in Brooklyn, New York, Events by TFL and NY Balloon & Basket Co., both part of Jae Rae Associates, Inc. Jane’s background includes Education, Business Owner (brick & mortar and E-Commerce) and has specialized in Operations Management, Business Strategies, Internet Sales and Marketing, E-Commerce Store Management, and Social Media Coordination. She has a diverse background in Event Management, Corporate Event Coordination, Fund Raising, Community and Religious based committees, Athletic Training, and Research in Women in Sports and Title IX compliance. She is a NYS Certified Teacher (K-12) and Certified Balloon Artist [CBA] through internationally recognized Pioneer Balloon Company; founder of the NYC Balloon Network, a network of Balloon Decorating Professionals in the Greater New York Area where she also was an instructor and coordinated regional events on behalf of the Qualatex Balloon Network. The NY Balloon & Basket Co. was recognized in 2004 as a charter member of a worldwide professional balloon delivery and decor service, Balloonplanet.com. Jane is now focusing on Community Management for Small Buisnesses, concentrating on helping service industry businesses find their niche and grow their business through insight into who their customer base is, how to reach new and old customers, expanding business while consulting on business operations so that a small business has a true coach on their side to manage growth in an fast and ever changing market.
Home page: http://www.avividimagination.com
Posts by Jane Parmel
For my mother….
8 years
Mary Parmel
My mother, Mary, passed away suddenly on August 22nd. The following is the eulogy I gave at her funeral Mass that Saturday. Many of my friends and relatives have asked for me to post this – for their support, for me and my mom – thank you all for being there.
Thank you all for coming today. Thank you, Fr. Paul for your special words for Mom. Thank you to Fr. Powers for graciously having us here again in St. Patrick’s – my mother and father’s second home. Thank you to Sister Flora, my mom’s high school classmate, for helping put this Mass together. Thank you to all our friends & family for being here and especially to everyone at the New York Center for Rehabilitation and Nursing, my mom’s home for the last three years. Please forgive me if I miss a name or two as I go along.
Well, I have to tell you that I really believed that I would not be speaking at my mother’s funeral because the joke between us was she would outlive me! But, I know that God has other plans – some fundraiser, Bazaar or CCD Program to run up in heaven.
My mother and I had a typical mother-daughter-fine-line relationship. So there was always much sarcasm, much laughter, arguments, special times, issues avoided, and, most of all, love.
My mom was called by many names –
Mary Caldera
Mary Parmel
Mommy
Mrs. Parmel
Miss Mary
Momma
Mary Carmela
Mary Baby
Ma
And she had many, shall we call them, idiosyncrasies.
She was organized. My mom worked for Cohn, Hall, Marx in the textiles industry where she was a “Bill of Lading” clerk; keeping things in order was her strong suit. From the Candy Table with Marie Marzigliano, to the Milk Money collection and distribution, to her beloved Library, my mother organized everything her way. She kept meticulous records for all the fundraisers and programs she was in charge of and taught me to do the same.
My mother was relentless. I always knew she would badger many if not all of you to “buy your tickets to the luncheon”, “get you chance books in”, etc. – Janet Adler will attest to this that my mom would put the fear of Mary (which was much stronger than that of God) in you that you would not get into the festivities if you weren’t paid up before.
Mom was a good sport. She was teased by the best – my dad, Marty, George, and so many others – including me; being chased by Nino and a two-pound lobster, her campsite being invaded by Lella & Rae with a whole restaurant setup – she took all the teasing, although protesting. She never admitted it but she loved the spotlight. She was always ready to share a laugh and usually had a good one-liner back.
My mother was a good listener. When you could get my mom’s ear with a problem you had, she would listen for hours. She would ask all the right questions, she would give you her opinion and usually leave you off with something like, “I know it’s not easy, but hang in!”
My mother was our own news source. She always prided herself on watching the news, Court TV, “Meet the Press” and more, although someone, usually me or my father had to explain the nuances to her. I am a Today Show baby to this day because she always made sure we watched together in the mornings when I was little; she worked at the Board of Elections for years and if she could have, she would have revamped the whole system way before last year’s election, singlehandedly!
My mother was loyal. She was the middle child who stayed at home; got married young to her high-school sweetheart, my dad, Ernie. They helped my Aunt Flo when she was left widowed with Patrick and Debbie – my father & mother spending weekends to help around the house, play with the kids and being a shoulder for her sister. She cared for my grandparents – all of them – never ever making a distinction between her own parents and her in-laws. She wasn’t blessed to be a mother by birth, but she was, as she always said, “Blessed to have the best day of her life, when I held you in my arms” – the day she and my father made the trip to Angel Guardian to pick me up. She was the contact with my father’s family in Gibraltar, though never meeting them because we were family. She remained by my father’s side until he drew his last breath ten years ago. She spoke to her brother-in-law, my Uncle Mort every day sharing their “isms” and more. She spoke to her best friend, my aunt Mary D. every day.
Mary Parmel, the Librarian, was a weekly reminder to hundreds of children who came through St. Patrick’s school. She started volunteering here when I entered first grade and left only after forty-three years and her health issues getting the best of her. “Put your chair in”, “What are the Magic Words?” “Make sure to return the books the way you found them” were just some of the commands – which she also used at home.
My mother was possessive. She always introduced Rae as “her friend first” – and the ladies and men on staff at the NY Center were all “her favorites” who shared many lunches, trips and afternoons on the patio with her. And that possessiveness made her your biggest advocate; she would do anything she could – right up to holding the hand of a friend on her floor in the nursing home, until last week when that friend passed.
My mother was a sweet and lovely lady. So many of you have said that to me. My retort was usually, “Thank you, but you don’t live with her”! My mother, just like her sister and brother, could lay you out with a look – and thankfully, only a few of us know the dressing down she could dish out when she was mad. She would never admit to her mean side; only to remind me that I had to “take it easy”, especially with her. A deep breath in, a rolling of her eyes and a “Don’t tell Janie” were usually in the cards.
Every day of the last ten years, I have been blessed with my mother. We became closer than ever; we talked about everything. We did things we hadn’t before like a vacation in Maryland, trips to the Casino and family gatherings like our “Meatball Experience” at Colleen’s house so we could all learn her recipe.
It’s never easy to lose a parent, you simply figure that they will always be there. I have to come to appreciate the support my mother always gave me; she may not have always said to directly to me but she was my biggest fan, my confidante, my partner-in-crime. I will miss our thrice daily phone calls – I am so happy that the last time I saw her, when she said to me, “I love you Jane” as I had heard a billion times before, I said to her something my niece Michelle says every time, “Ma, I love you more!”
To use some Mary-isms, “This was expected but unexpected” – “I knew it was coming-ish”; but for all of us, as she would say, “I know it’s not easy, but hang in”…
Many of you have asked where you can donate in my mother’s memory – her home for the last three years, the NY Center for Rehabilitation and Nursing in Astoria and their recreation department gave her so many opportunities she never was able to do in her life; I know she would love to return the favor and pay it forward. Please note mom’s name if you chose to donate.
NY Center for Rehabilitation & Nursing
2613 21st Street, Astoria, NY 11102
Attn: Alla / Recreation Department
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The Other Mother Theresa
9 years
I would venture to guess that almost everyone in the world knows of Saint Teresa of Calcutta, Mother Teresa. Although diminutive in size, Mother Teresa was a giant in stature. This past week has brought that same acknowledgement closer to home for my family and those we know as we celebrated the life of our own “Mother Theresa”, Theresa Russo.
I met our Mother Theresa in 1985 – introduced to as and called her “Mrs. Russo” until the day she passed. Over the course of 31 years, she went from being my friend’s mom to being my “other mother” and my friend. Even at the whopping 5 foot, 1 inch she originally stood at, she struck me upon our first meeting as a woman who was dutiful yet strong in her own right, someone who lived by a set of rules and raised a family with respect and gratitude. I was always afraid of not “doing the right thing” in her eyes and often worried if she was upset with something I may or may not have done, you know, like some of us are with our own parents.
Theresa Russo was born in 1928, the same year Walt Disney created Mickey Mouse. That was always our private joke – I would always comment on she and Mickey being the same age, referring to him as “her brother”. She would laugh and shake her head and we would always have a good chuckle about it. I always had a fascination with the stories people would tell of their lives, however mundane they may have thought those stories were, I found that people are always happiest when they regale in the stories that shaped them, good or bad. And if you remembered those stories, you tended to make a connection with them more quickly. So, I listened and learned.
Funny, that the “listen and learn” comment came in here as that was an expression often used by Theresa’s husband and members of his family. But the one thing I learned in spending over 31 years in Theresa’s company was just that – listening. As a very young child, Theresa became quite ill, so ill in fact, she almost didn’t survive. But survive she did and grew to possess a strength of will if not in body. She always smiled when she told her daughter Rachael and I about those childhood stories – going to the movies with eleven cents, ten for the price of the ticket and a penny for candy, at a time when “movies were movies”; coming home for lunch, having her mom serve lentils and her refusal to eat them, and her mother turning the bowl over on her head!
She always smiled broadly when she spoke of her father – how she and her sister would wait by the window, peering down the street to watch for their father’s return home so they could signal their mother to throw the pasta in the water, timing Sunday dinner to be perfectly placed on the table by the time he sat down. Her father who worked his own business many hours during the day but would meet his daughters by the train station to ensure their safe return home at night. Theresa’s mother, would always say that when she walked down the street with Theresa in the carriage, people would always remark on what a beautiful the baby was.
Over the course of her lifetime, Theresa married, raised four sons and a daughter, supporting her husband in his business ventures while keeping the home, as women of her era did. Having five children in six years, she quickly learned to appreciate the help and support her mother was able to give and she navigated all her responsibilities and charges in to an “organized chaos” – a home filled with activity and love.
In the thirty-one years I knew her, we shared stories, many meals, vacations and countless hours just talking. As she watched all of us become adults and begin our own lives, she settled in to the role of guide, mentor and friend. Laundry, house cleaning and how to save money when you shopped were in the fashion she explained. Our conversations always resulted in laughs and teasing about how her daughter, Rachael, would be “telling her what to do”, resulting in the two of us referring to her as “The Warden”. As the summer of 2016 wore on, Theresa became more and more ill. Although visits to various doctors became the norm for her, this was much more than ever before. After four stays at the hospital, my poor friend’s body could not take much more. We lost Theresa when God called her home, one day after her husband’s passing twenty-five years before and on the same day her mother passed at the age of 99 eight years earlier.
Rachael and I prayed with her the night before she passed (I know she was probably laughing as she always shook her head at my “fallen way Catholicism”). But it gave me a strange peace, a connection to the realization that she was truly my friend too, not just my friend’s parent. She welcomed me into her house and family from the time I was nineteen years old. She taught me a tremendous amount of things and always to be aware of people and the things they do and say. She was “old school” and traditional. She made up her mind about things and often wouldn’t be swayed in any other direction. She was strong in her family and in her faith. We celebrated her life this week, where twenty-five priests concelebrated the Mass of Resurrection for her at The Church of Saint Mark, fully decorated in Christmas splendor – her favorite holiday. As I stood with my family during the service, all I could think of was Theresa seeing all this and saying, “All this…. For me?”
Yes, indeed, Mrs. Russo, all of it was for you – you were so special to all of us!
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Not Alive and Well and Yet, Some Things are Still Surprising
9 years
I don’t get this one even more.
I mean, I get it – but I don’t see why it happens.
As a country, we are collectively mourning the loss of five Dallas Police Officers. FIVE… In a matter of minutes, FIVE lives gone, children without fathers, wives without husbands, mothers without sons.
Then we take sides…..
This is terrorism. The gunman wanted to fulfill an agenda he had, radical or fanatical thinking behind it – take your pick. And he was trained by the structure present in our country’s military. Homegrown, by definition.
You hear all sides – it wasn’t justified, it wasn’t right, it was justified by not right, it was justified and right – all positions on the spectrum. Liberals cite the gun laws, Conservatives cite gun laws. Democrats differ from Republican thinking, Republicans differ from Democrats.
And in this wonderful age of social media, we can be scrutinized about our beliefs in a two word post on Facebook or in less than 140 characters on Twitter. People hear what they want to hear and see what they want to see. They believe who they choose to listen to and dismiss those who do not agree with them.
I have lived in New York all my life. I take pride in the fact that if someone needs a ride or directions to get somewhere, I can provide assistance. I can tell you the “ins and outs” of travelling in the five boroughs of our city because I have driven almost every section of every borough over the twenty-years that I ran a balloon delivery business.
Yesterday, I read a post from someone who is married to a newly hired police officer in another part of the country. She wrote about the sacrifice her husband is making – “so willing to sacrifice so much for people who care so little”.
Want to know what’s wrong with police training? Their home lives? Their way of thinking? Read that last part of the last sentence in the previous paragraph. Thankfully, most police officers truly believe in the serve and protect and that belief being applied to everyone they come into contact with. But those who are of the mentality that “people care so little” have no business putting the uniform on. You are charged with serving those you look like, those you do not look like, those who dress, pray and eat like you or not. When we wake up to that reality, we will have to address the broader issue of eradicating racism from every police department’s employee – young and old, newly hired or near retirement.
Today I was challenged by someone I am friends with on Facebook, to “take a walk in Brownsville or Bed-Stuy after dark tonight” – the challenge concluded by telling me to let the person “know how it goes”. This particular person and I have minimal contact with each other – a distant relative, the kind you may see at weddings and funerals, but not much more. We were raised in the same neighborhood as children but we apparently see the world from two hugely different perspectives.
Truth is, I have gone through Brownsville and Bed-Stuy, East New York and Coney Island; I have made deliveries in these areas as well as Bensonhurst, Mill Basin, Bayside and Astoria. I assume that the “challenger” (as we will refer to her) wanted me to agree with her that those neighborhoods that she cited were “dangerous”. Well, maybe they are – as all the rest of the neighborhoods in any area could be – at night, in broad daylight, at dawn.
The insinuations that were prompted by a post are revolting. People in a more privileged position can draw all the conclusions they want. Walk the walk, as they say; put your money where your mouth is.
I have worked with the finest people in this gigantic city – and believe you me, they are not always found in the best of positions, circumstances, or neighborhoods. I have decorated street fairs in Brownsville, grand openings in Bed-Stuy; I have brought my staff to places in every borough that may have made others look around nervously; we have been at all-day events in Corona. Our shop was in Coney Island for 19 years and we opened and closed all hours of the day and night. You may ask if we ever had problems. The answer is yes some issues but not something that would have chased us from wherever we were. The only think that ever scared us was Superstorm Sandy and even then, with every single property in Coney Island being affected, neighbors who walked passed our store in the days after the storm, asked if we were okay, if they could help and would we be back in operation.
Social media – where you can post something and it lives forever. The internet? Put it up – take it down, the web has the last laugh. If someone posts something you do not agree with, let them know; if a comment is biased, object. Do not stand by and look the other way – your voice is as important as theirs. Use your voice!
The word that will carry us forward is EMPATHY. Know what its like to be someone else…..
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The Angelou Effect
9 years
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” – Maya Angelou
I am in a very unique position.
Well, that sounded cool to say but it’s not really true. I am in the same position that many of us find ourselves at different points in our lives, within different circumstances and locations. People say things like they are sorry when someone passes away, happy for your when you win the lottery (I know that one most would consider to be a stretch) and more things like that. Someone can offer you a ride, pick-up a quart of milk for you at the store or just ask you how you’re doing on any particular day.
I bumped into my neighbor the other day and she looked tired. We stopped and had some conversation; she told me her mom who had been very ill had finally passed earlier in the week. She has been through a lot, my neighbor – she broke her shoulder in an accident at work; her husband died suddenly two years ago; her mother has been ill and in and out of hospitals for the last year. And in the midst of all things with getting her mom’s affairs in order, she had to run home and walk the dogs. When I saw how tired she was, I told her that if she wanted to leave me the keys, I would walk the dogs so she wouldn’t have another thing to worry about. I know how independent my neighbor is and I knew my offer would most likely be refused, but I did it anyway. I didn’t ask because it was “the thing that neighbors do” – I did it because I really hoped she would let someone help her for once! But even more, if she didn’t take me up on the offer, I thought maybe she would feel better, knowing that if she truly wanted to, I would be there to help her. I know she appreciated it as she smiled as she went into her door and thanked me.
That being said, I stumbled upon this quote from Maya Angelou and it made me think: Do we truly think about our words and actions and their effects?
Quantifying a feeling is almost impossible. One can say that they are feeling things at a certain level but that level would be relative to the rest of the things going on in their lives. Often, two people in a situation can’t understand why the other doesn’t “get it” – perhaps it’s because the first party doesn’t consider how the other person is made to feel.
I am surrounded by a lot of people every day – through business, family, friends and others. Communication has always been important in my life whether it has involved talking around the dinner table, writing letters to cousins who lived far away; talking daily on the phone to a grandparent who did not live with us, writing in a diary. You can communicate all you want to whatever entity you choose but a true communicator watches for the signals, takes the cues remembering that words “listen” and “silent” have the same letters in them. Being present in a conversation means you have to hear what’s being said and then pause…
Then think about your retort, your side, the words you wish to say.
No one realizes how damaging words like “just” and “kind of” can be when you speak to someone. I’ve heard one phrase over and over again throughout my life – “not really”, as in “that child was adopted so he (she) is ‘not really’ their child” or “Well, he’s not really her father – its a second marriage”. All are limiting words – they minimize situations, people and things. And for what point? If you use phrases like this, do you live the life of the person you are speaking about?
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Guess that can translate to “Think before you speak – the tongue is a very sharp instrument.”
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What a Year It’s Been
10 years
I’m baaaaacckkkk!!!
Okay – I know the difference between a bad blogger, a good blogger and a great blogger is the frequency with which they post.
I am admitting – I have been a bad blogger.
I have not concentrated on writing – I have let ever single thing in my life distract me from the purpose of this blog. The very focus of this blog was to acknowledge the ironic twist one’s imagination can lead their thought process and life to. 2015 has been one of those years that has proven to expand my imagination; make me question the past, enjoy the present and be excited about the future, even as I hit the milestone 50th birthday!
The last post I made was about “The Meatball Experience”. We had a fun day with food, great company and wine!! My mom imparting her skewed side of the world and her meatballs, my cousins easing nicely into our old comfort zone (or maybe new comfort zone as we have rarely been able to spend time together as adults). That day was shortly after one of my posts “Oy Vey! Only Two Years Away”.
Well, the blink of an eye has happened and here we are two years later. I am on a flight to Miami marking my third trip down to the Sunshine State this year. I have been working with a business coach,one who is helping me figure out what I want to be when I grow up (ha-ha!) – someone who has made me look at the things that I have done throughout my fifty years on this earth and realize that I can work with others to bring about change in their businesses and help them create events, strengthening their personal brands.
I have tried to leave my pessimistic self at the door. My mantra hasn’t changed much but I don’t think it’s “I hate people” it’s more “I hate stupidity”!
I am continually happy that God gives me another day. Another day to appreciate things, people, circumstances, whatever. I can no longer pat my puppy on the top of his head; my Bailey plays with his Grandpa again since he crossed over that Rainbow Bridge in May. The news still stinks everyday – watching it becomes a trial in keeping panic attacks in check.
Then the day happens. Thankfully, the day happens.
My mom is now being well taken care of after she broke bones in her back in June of 2014; she made a decision to permanently reside in a facility in her Astoria neighborhood. We packed up, cleaned out and sold a home that had been in my family for 64 years. The uncle who had meant the world to me as a child passed away and letting go of angst that had come between us seemed the right thing to do. After a twenty-two year run, my partner and I have decided to close our businesses down – as I have always said, it’s fun when things are going right but when things go wrong, boy do they ever! Superstorm/Hurricane/Tropical Storm Sandy knocked the wind out of our sails and we never really recuperated fully. One of my childhood heroes, my cousin, Theresa, suffered from the ravages of ovarian cancer and succumbed to this terrible disease within months.
Amazing things have happened also.
I applied and was accepted into the Goldman Sachs 10,000 Small Business Program in July of 2014. I met the best group of “Cohortians” (as I called them) and benefitted from many of their experiences, our instructors and our business advisors. Graduation in December 2014 gave me a new perspective on business, my direction and what I needed to do moving forward. I received a Certificate of Entrepreneurship from LaGuardia Community College and Goldman Sachs and also completed a business college course of study giving me a Certificate in Management Consulting. Opportunities presenting themselves in the strangest places (or right in front of you); I am a “Lord-Mechanic-Accumulator” and am embracing my strengths and running with them.
I am creating a new business opportunity for myself and will be helping other small business owners steady their foundations and move forward to build their businesses and brands.
My partner and I bought a beautiful home in a wonderful neighborhood and are looking forward to welcoming family and friends for wonderful dinners and backyard pool parties for years to come. We can finally have our moms come to a house that is more easily accessible for them and we can’t wait to see what the next fifty years have in store. I have closer friends, more relaxed days, more ever expanding experiences. I’ve become a “Networker” (VP now President of our BNI Chapter), I’ve become a consultant and, not to be forgotten, “The Third Twin” (blog post with an explanation to follow later).
But taking stock of things, as my birthday gets closer, I have to be grateful for many things. Although I make many a joke about being placed in a reed basket and floated down the Nile (or East River), I am the person I am today – slightly cracked, a wealth of useless information, a business owner, someone you can ask for anything, supporter of many (whether they realize it or not), critical of some but one who knows when they are out of their league. I believe in open-mindedness. I believe in education. Flowers winning over guns; candles to remember those lost; feeling safe again when everyone in the world remembers we are all the same. Love can and does conquer all.
This year, I am thinking definitely and positively. And instead of “Let’s see where this will take me”, how about this…
“Don’t believe me? Just watch!!!”
