My Turn: Taking up life's challenges

When is it time to stop reaching? Is there a junction in our lives where if we go left we will be content to just coast along, or do we chose to go right with never-ending curiosity on what challenges are awaiting us around the bend?

When I was 11, my mom was having a baby and I wanted to be able to buy my new sibling a gift. I made jewelry from cork and sold it to a neighbor who, when she went to work, brought in my creations. Bottom line, I was able to buy my brother a playpen, and I was very proud of my young self.

Then came the teen years, when I was in perpetual motion. There was always something to challenge me. I remember having to combat my fear of diving off the diving board.

Several years after graduation, along came marriage and having a family. If raising three kids and keeping my sense of humor and sanity weren't challenging enough, I surely don't know what is. During their growing years, I had what was referred to as a "cottage industry" job. Translated, that meant endless hours working from home to prove to myself that I still had "it." It was truly gratifying to see the happiness I was able to bring to people with my homespun wares. I continuously took adult-ed classes at night and parlayed one in particular, calligraphy, into a part-time business. There was always an opportunity to volunteer.

Time was indeed passing at breakneck speed, and I never stopped racing with it.

The kids are grown now, and I have a part-time job that I look forward to since I am in a senior day center where laughter and caring abound among these wonderful folks. At this junction of my life, my sixth decade, I chose to take whatever challenge is awaiting me at the next bend, and, whatever it might be, I want to embrace it with zest and optimism that will continuously prove that I will always be "unfinished." And that suits me just fine.

Diane Sciacchitano,

North MassapequaRemembering Pinky

Many years ago, when I was growing up in Maspeth, my family had a terrier-mix dog named Pinky. Pinky was white with black markings and had a black patch over one eye. We lived in a semi-attached bungalow with a fenced yard, where Pinky would play.

On warm summer nights, my mother would take her folding chair and sit on the front porch so she could talk with our next-door neighbor. Pinky would quickly jump up on my mother's lap. When our neighbor came out with her chair to sit and chat with Mom, Pinky would jump down and squeeze through the wrought-iron railing that separated the porches so she could greet our neighbor. After her happy greeting, she would turn around and come back through the railing and once again take her position on my mother's lap.

One evening, with the summer quickly coming to an end, we encountered a glitch in Pinky's routine. She just could not squeeze through the railing to greet our neighbor. She had gained some weight, which we had not noticed. She wasn't eating more than usual. In fact, she was a very picky eater.

To our surprise, Pinky was pregnant! But how? Well, occasionally, if someone left the backyard gate open, Pinky would get out and we would find her at a gas station a few blocks away where a male dog resided. We concluded that the father had to be the gas station dog, but we would never know for certain.

Just a few weeks after the railing incident, Pinky became the mother of four adorable puppies. She gave birth beneath our basement steps in a cozy corner and knew exactly what to do as each puppy came into the world. It was amazing to watch!

We so enjoyed watching the puppies grow, but the time had come to find them homes. After successfully finding three of them homes, we still had Skippy. A few more weeks went by when, finally, my mother found a good home for him. I will never forget how she cried when she handed him over to his new family.

Pinky lived a long life, but how we all mourned when she passed on. Since Pinky, we've had many dogs to love and to cry for when they have passed away. Their lives are much too short. When you lose them, you say, "I can't go through this again," but somehow we do. We somehow welcome another pet into our lives, for it only takes a moment to be loved a whole life long.

Mary Ann Puccio,

Garden CityConquering fears

My phobias began when I was a teenager in the 1960s. I feared public speaking in school and anguished through my high school years. I decided not to go to college, even though I won a small scholarship. I didn't want to face another four years of anxiety.

I got a job and joined the miniskirted, spike-heeled set. I worked in an office, partied after work and bought myself a red convertible.

I married, had children and didn't work any longer. I developed more fears until I had the worst fear of all -- agoraphobia. I couldn't drive out of my comfort zone, which was a few miles, and I was even nervous to stay home alone when the children were in school. My life was becoming more and more restricted until one day I found an ad in a local paper about a phobia clinic.

The clinic helped me. I got a part-time job and began to go to college for a few classes here and there. I went on to a full-time job, and my efforts built on themselves. Eventually, I reached my associate degree graduation. I had saved my public speaking class for last because that was the fear that had started my problems. I received a good review of my speech and felt as if I had climbed Mount Everest and reached the top!

I went on to a four-year school and got my bachelor's degree at the age of 59, majoring in -- of course -- psychology. I have realized that fears can be conquered when you have the right motivation. You just have to keep working on them.

Andrea Dahle Sinnott,East Meadow