I love this time of year between the first days of school and Thanksgiving.
Early November in State College, PA is the epitome of fall in the mid-Atlantic. The hills surrounding town are sometimes still spotted with colorful foliage, the cider is fresh pressed, the air is crisp and cold and the University is still educating students from all over the world and hosting football games at Beaver Stadium.
Football in Happy Valley has never died, despite the hits the program and it's people took four years ago this week. Our tailgates are still fun, the stands are still packed with devoted fans and the halftime show is still entertaining. The town rocks from Friday through Sundays on home football weekends. The lines at the restaurants still snake down the blocks and sidewalks. The locals find ways to skirt the crowds to get their groceries and drive their children to activities or enjoy the area. We can watch the game in the comfort of our own homes and yell as loud as we want at what we see on the screen; be it good or bad. Some of us can get play by plays from friends on Facebook. I especially enjoy Ajja reports (Ajja is a friend's dad who once taught at PSU and at 88 is a proud, avid, and involved fan). In State College, even if you don't have season tickets, you can still be part of the fun.
But the rest, well, the rest still hangs over head.
Even though things seem to have improved, I can tell you, this lovely town and it's people are still reminded of the scandal all the time. Every color commentator somehow interjects something about it on game days. Today it came up when a friend returned from her high school reunion where she was questioned about J. S. (I won't print his name). Last week J.S. was in court, yet again, looking to appeal. Others implicated have yet to see the inside of a courtroom, even after all this time. Many people who lost jobs because of their association to the team at the time lost their jobs and are still trying to make a life. Some fans are adamant that the Coach's statue be returned to it's spot. And the victims, well, they will never be able to move totally away from it. So it lingers. The mess, the accusations, the he said she said rumors, the movies and books, the never ending discussions, the radio hosts and the world never have let it go. Maybe they never will and maybe they never should.
In the meantime I am reminded that time moves on. The young students who have chosen this university are not even up on the facts or the players of the case, as I was reminded in a comical way as I sat waiting for a play to start 2 weeks ago. The young lady beside me was telling her friend that the statue of the coach is definitely not here on campus because her boyfriend has looked all over for it and he works in the football building (wow)! Her focus is not on scandal. Our newest President assures us that, in time, the right people will be recognized for their accomplishments. We have another coach, new players and loyal fans and players who have stuck it out amid this whirlwind. We as a community have instituted and learned more about child sexual abuse and the abusers among us than, I would argue, almost any town in the US. The millions have been paid, the regulations met. It is a good place to live and a safe place (#1 in the state according to the 2015 rankings from Niche).
It has been four long years. Nevertheless, after those four long years the only thing we really need are the answers to the questions we still have. In the meantime we will love our Happy Valley life.
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Life in Plaid, Book 2
It has been a long time since I have written a post for this blog, well over a year, as a matter of fact. Why did I stop? Mostly because I thought I had exhausted the ideas fueling the Plaid Apron Adventure; the stories of a rich childhood in an Italian family. I wondered if I was actually saying anything that was more than just trivial. Frankly, I didn't want be boring with posts about things I was writing about. Since a blog is kind of like being a radio broadcaster in that you never really know if you are being listened to, I had decided Life in Plaid had run it's course.
Now I am going to give it another shot because I have been told that it was being read and enjoyed by people who were not blood relatives as well as those who are. So, here's a quick update on what's been shakin' in the past 17 months:
Most of life here in the '65 (those are the last 2 digits of our zip code, in case you are wondering) is the same as ever. Still rural, quiet, friendly, safe, and a little isolating. That said, there have been some amazing changes since the beginning of the year starting with our son moving to his own place and managing his MS with grace and positivity. He is once again independant and we are thrilled for him. Mike is sporting 3 unclogged arteries and a repaired aneurysm, thanks to some incredible medical people and processes. Our older son is still working hard and often playing harder, getting out of town whenever he can to enjoy his bachelorhood (do people say bachelor anymore?). Even though winter was long and snowy, spring showed up for a few weeks followed by rain rain rain and more rain in June. I got to dip my toes in the icy Atlantic in Cape Cod in late June, spent some time reliving my retail skills at "Curiouser and Curiouser"and then refreshed my soul back at the beach when I spent a sunny July week at Bethany Beach, DE. I am now almost a month into another crazy busy school year and thinking I am more ready to explore the retirement option than ever.
So, now that I have caught you up on the ins and outs of my most ordinary life, I will tell you this: I am looking forward to telling more tales, observing more of life's events (starting with a wedding next weekend), sharing love and laughter, going here and there this fall and winter, and, maybe, surprising myself with whatever life will bring on next in the '65 and other zipcodes.
Hope you will come along for the ride and will comment on how I'm doing and what you think.
Book
Now I am going to give it another shot because I have been told that it was being read and enjoyed by people who were not blood relatives as well as those who are. So, here's a quick update on what's been shakin' in the past 17 months:
Most of life here in the '65 (those are the last 2 digits of our zip code, in case you are wondering) is the same as ever. Still rural, quiet, friendly, safe, and a little isolating. That said, there have been some amazing changes since the beginning of the year starting with our son moving to his own place and managing his MS with grace and positivity. He is once again independant and we are thrilled for him. Mike is sporting 3 unclogged arteries and a repaired aneurysm, thanks to some incredible medical people and processes. Our older son is still working hard and often playing harder, getting out of town whenever he can to enjoy his bachelorhood (do people say bachelor anymore?). Even though winter was long and snowy, spring showed up for a few weeks followed by rain rain rain and more rain in June. I got to dip my toes in the icy Atlantic in Cape Cod in late June, spent some time reliving my retail skills at "Curiouser and Curiouser"and then refreshed my soul back at the beach when I spent a sunny July week at Bethany Beach, DE. I am now almost a month into another crazy busy school year and thinking I am more ready to explore the retirement option than ever.
So, now that I have caught you up on the ins and outs of my most ordinary life, I will tell you this: I am looking forward to telling more tales, observing more of life's events (starting with a wedding next weekend), sharing love and laughter, going here and there this fall and winter, and, maybe, surprising myself with whatever life will bring on next in the '65 and other zipcodes.
Hope you will come along for the ride and will comment on how I'm doing and what you think.
Book
Friday, April 25, 2014
Factoids are Fun
In our school our homerooms have what is called Advisory, a time to build solid and trusting relationships between the students and the staff. I have been assigned to an 8th grade classroom with a very good friend for the past 3 years. We have always had wonderful kids who join in in the activities we do, participate in discussions, do school work, and share their lives and interests and become a great unit by the end of the year. (I say always but things don't always go smoothly with 13 year olds at 8:10 in the morning). It is the highlight of my day to spend the first 30 minutes of school with our class.
To begin the year we do icebreaker activities to learn about each other. One of my favorites is a game that requires each player to share random and little known facts about themselves. Here are some random and little known facts about me
- If money were no object I would buy jackets and not shoes, unlike my sister Lois
- Being barefoot is better; flip flops are a close second
- Flannel pajamas are a wardrobe choice 9 times out of 10 when I get home from work (my martini glass pjs are my favorite)
- 'Laverne and Shirley' always made me laugh out loud
- My "gas is low" warning light goes off all the time
- I love bridal magazines but dislike fashion magazines
- Sometimes I try and hide at Whipple Dam State Park so I can be alone
- Lilac and pear are 2 of my most favorite aromas
- I eat ricotta out of the container as a snack
- James Patterson and Martha Stewart annoy the heck out of me
- My car is automatic but I can drive standard
- I hate gory movies but love Game of Thrones
- I believe in ghosts and spirits
- Mint Chip milk shakes from Myers dairy are one of my favorite treats
- my phone is not of the smart variety and often MIA
- never have I ever had a speeding ticket (that right there is a minor miracle)
Feel free to discuss.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
A Connection So Strong (with photographic evidence)
Over the years things change. I have changed. Most of my changes have been subtle and personal and I am continuing to grow and become more confident in who I am and what I am good at. A hobby of mine and, a sometimes money maker, is my photography. I love to take pictures of the world around me. I don't have fancy equipment and I am self teaching the ins and outs of the skill, but, overall I like what I see in my viewfinder. I am an admirer of many local photographers including the late Bill Coleman, my Scott Kelby Photowalk friends, and, one of my favorites, Brandon Stanton who is the man behind Humans of New York.
I look at HONY every day. I own the book. I admire and am amazed at the emotion and truth that come from his images and his simple questions to his subjects. His sweetest are often of children or of older couples. Innocence and wisdom right there, everyday, on the streets of the city. Love is present in the eyes and the looks of his couples, but, he did not get to see the love of Dolores and Harry. He would have relished in the chance to take their picture and talk to them about love and loyalty.
Aunt Dolores and Uncle Harry were an extraordinary couple. I dont know the particulars of their love story, not sure how or when they met, or where they went on their first date, or, when they became engaged. I do know that they were enamored with each other. They were each others touchstone, best friend, life long partner. If ever there was an example of soul mates it was Dolores and Harry. Pictures of them make me smile. Memories of their affection are strong. They always held hands. He told her she was beautiful, she thought he was heaven sent. They always sat close together at events. They always teased and laughed. Always. It was sweet and real and something we all strive to have. Aunt Dolores and Uncle Harry had it in spades!
I don't suppose that their relationship was without bumps or moments of exasperation; no one's is. Nothing is perfect. In a long and busy marriage life can throw you lots of curve balls. They weathered every storm, together.
They were something else, fun, funny, caring and loving people who gave us all unconditional love and amazing gifts, delicious food, 4 incredible cousins, phone calls, childrearing advice and anything else we needed. All I ever had to do was ask. As they got older they enjoyed a retirement and built a new life away from Brooklyn where they made new friends and helped out in new ventures, always together. They welcomed all with open arms and I don't think ever met a stranger! I loved visiting with them when they moved to PA. I loved driving my aunt to the events we went to together and then coming home and watching John Edward's TV show in her country home.
When Uncle Harry passed on I do know that my aunt missed her husband from the moment he left this life till she was able to join him. I know she wrote to him every night before she went to sleep and continued to love him with every fiber of her being.
Recently I ran across this photo of them: I stole it from my cousin's facebook page and put it in my folder of photos. Humans of New York, wish you could have met Dolores and Harry on the streets of Brooklyn. That picture would have been classic and the story even more so. It would have been a treat to have heard what they would have said! This picture sums that love affair pretty well, though.
*sorry I can't credit the photographer, I have no idea who that is.
Loving and missing you both!
Sunday, January 12, 2014
We Follow in Gaston's Ways, We are Especially Good at It, Too.
This post is about a legend.
A proud and noble family tradition that began about a hundred years ago, I would guess. My mother and father,sisters and brother, my aunts and uncles, my older and younger cousins were taught as little ones all about this special special thing. I do not know exactly who started it. I dont need to. I just know that it is a well respected and time honored traditon in the Macaluso extended family. It is binding and real. It is just a little bit repulsive, but only because, if taken literally, the distastfulness of it all would be too much to take.
In my family, if something is desired to be given to us someday, we spit on it.
You read that correctly. To claim an item or number of items to be bequeathed to you the habit is to claim it by expectorating! Now, before you decide that this is a family of gross and disgusting people letting loose on fine china bowls and grandfather clocks and hand cut crystal goblets, let me furter explain our methods. We say, "I spit on that". The first person to say those words, with a witness, usually the owner or keeper of the treasure, is the true and rightful recipiant of whatever it may be. Easy as pie! The witness, the owner or keeper of the treasure, will then affirm it and honor the spitee with the item in due time. No quarrels, arguments, ifs, ands, or buts about it. Why spit? Again, this has an easy and totally logical answer: who in their right mind would ever ever ever want somthing with someone else's spittle on it? It is marked territory. It is DNA protected. It is yours unless or until you decide to give it to another.
The list of things I have personally spit on is not long but includes such things as the fabulous Ram's head lamp (a representation of my high school mascot), the panoramic framed shot of the Cottages in Truro, a certain necklace from Tiffany's and the very coveted and somewhat valuable Beanie Baby collection of over 100 squishy soft plush toys. We all have the right to spit, no matter the age, on family heirlooms to be. In my entire liftime there has been only one item I can recall being un-spit-on-able, a well loved and coveted Red Volvo. That is not to say they didnt try, but, that car could only go on so long.
It is a great and unique custom that I imagine has few equals. I have no idea, really, what other families do, maybe write things in legal documents. For us, we just spit.
A proud and noble family tradition that began about a hundred years ago, I would guess. My mother and father,sisters and brother, my aunts and uncles, my older and younger cousins were taught as little ones all about this special special thing. I do not know exactly who started it. I dont need to. I just know that it is a well respected and time honored traditon in the Macaluso extended family. It is binding and real. It is just a little bit repulsive, but only because, if taken literally, the distastfulness of it all would be too much to take.
In my family, if something is desired to be given to us someday, we spit on it.
You read that correctly. To claim an item or number of items to be bequeathed to you the habit is to claim it by expectorating! Now, before you decide that this is a family of gross and disgusting people letting loose on fine china bowls and grandfather clocks and hand cut crystal goblets, let me furter explain our methods. We say, "I spit on that". The first person to say those words, with a witness, usually the owner or keeper of the treasure, is the true and rightful recipiant of whatever it may be. Easy as pie! The witness, the owner or keeper of the treasure, will then affirm it and honor the spitee with the item in due time. No quarrels, arguments, ifs, ands, or buts about it. Why spit? Again, this has an easy and totally logical answer: who in their right mind would ever ever ever want somthing with someone else's spittle on it? It is marked territory. It is DNA protected. It is yours unless or until you decide to give it to another.
The list of things I have personally spit on is not long but includes such things as the fabulous Ram's head lamp (a representation of my high school mascot), the panoramic framed shot of the Cottages in Truro, a certain necklace from Tiffany's and the very coveted and somewhat valuable Beanie Baby collection of over 100 squishy soft plush toys. We all have the right to spit, no matter the age, on family heirlooms to be. In my entire liftime there has been only one item I can recall being un-spit-on-able, a well loved and coveted Red Volvo. That is not to say they didnt try, but, that car could only go on so long.
It is a great and unique custom that I imagine has few equals. I have no idea, really, what other families do, maybe write things in legal documents. For us, we just spit.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
The Past Year -- It's a Wrap!
I have missed writing this past year. I have missed thinking of what to say and share and ponder. It has been just a bit longer than 11 months since I have posted here and I think it is about time to keep going. If you know me at all or if you remember my previous post from last January you will realize that the days here in the middle of Pennsyltucky have been in a state of flux due to something called LIFE. It has not been a bad thing, just a very different thing. Nonetheless, here I sit, cuddled up in my cozy blanket, listening to the winter wind and watching the snow literally fly past my window ready to take on a new year. 2013 can take a flying leap into my memory bank. It has exhausted me, surprised me, exhilarated me, stunned me, ignored me and humbled me. I send it on it's way with a hearty handshake and the hope that it will not have 2014 follow in it's footsteps.
A very short synopsis of the year is this:
The year began when Adam came home to stay because of his MS; his flare up in December was intense and for the next 6 months he could not walk. Soon after, Shane arranged for him to get excellent physical therapy at a rehab service in Mifflintown and it has been a Godsend. They work with skill and humor everyday.
Mike and I have learned how to share our home with a strong and amazing young man who has given us many days of laughter, awe at what he is made of, worry about what could be, strength in family and family values, pride in his spirit and witness to hardship in living a new kind of life. Faith is here all the time, too.
Our circle of family and friends has grown exponentially! My parents, siblings and extended family have been terrific, as always. The benefit in Adam's honor was a huge boost to our life and a great day of seeing the goodness in this place. Old friends from Clarkstown High School have lifted me up with messages of support, facebook comments and generosity. I never knew they would be a part of my life again and am very grateful that they are. Our small part of this world is chock full of loving and giving people who exude the "can do" attitude everyday.
In July Adam gave up using the motorized scooter and relies, almost exclusively, on his own two shaky legs and a fabulous cane. He was able to buy a car and get back a huge amount of independance. As the saying almost goes - when life gives you lemons, get a kitten! Mia has been hysterically funny and a great source of exercise for the legs as well as the heart of Adam. She came to our home because she was abandoned and, according to the people that found her, purrfect! They were right.
The summer gave me a pallet garden (big success) and a trip to Cape Cod with my sisters, brother and parents (also a big success)! and down time. I enjoyed the productions of our community theatre and the fires in our custom made fire pit along with the new friends we made in our neighborhood. Back to school meant extended job duties that I did not want and knew nothing about, but, have turned out to be a good thing teaching me that I can still learn some new tricks!!
The winter, so far, has been uneventful with the exception of my Mother in Law's accident, Shane's torn meniscus, and the terrible season of both the J. E. T. S. and the Giants (something I really could care less about but others here are into). It has also provided me with a chance to become addicted to the TV show "Scandal". With the exception of the football teams, all will be well sooner or later.
So, here we are again at the New Year. What is in store is a mystery. What I pray for is the strength to carry on and a continuation of all the blessings from the past 12 months to continue. Even though I step over this threshold into 2014 not knowing what will be I am sure to enter it with an open heart and a love for all of you who have hugged, loved, shared and been there to lean on. Let the adventure continue and let there be peace.
A very short synopsis of the year is this:
The year began when Adam came home to stay because of his MS; his flare up in December was intense and for the next 6 months he could not walk. Soon after, Shane arranged for him to get excellent physical therapy at a rehab service in Mifflintown and it has been a Godsend. They work with skill and humor everyday.
Mike and I have learned how to share our home with a strong and amazing young man who has given us many days of laughter, awe at what he is made of, worry about what could be, strength in family and family values, pride in his spirit and witness to hardship in living a new kind of life. Faith is here all the time, too.
Our circle of family and friends has grown exponentially! My parents, siblings and extended family have been terrific, as always. The benefit in Adam's honor was a huge boost to our life and a great day of seeing the goodness in this place. Old friends from Clarkstown High School have lifted me up with messages of support, facebook comments and generosity. I never knew they would be a part of my life again and am very grateful that they are. Our small part of this world is chock full of loving and giving people who exude the "can do" attitude everyday.
In July Adam gave up using the motorized scooter and relies, almost exclusively, on his own two shaky legs and a fabulous cane. He was able to buy a car and get back a huge amount of independance. As the saying almost goes - when life gives you lemons, get a kitten! Mia has been hysterically funny and a great source of exercise for the legs as well as the heart of Adam. She came to our home because she was abandoned and, according to the people that found her, purrfect! They were right.
The summer gave me a pallet garden (big success) and a trip to Cape Cod with my sisters, brother and parents (also a big success)! and down time. I enjoyed the productions of our community theatre and the fires in our custom made fire pit along with the new friends we made in our neighborhood. Back to school meant extended job duties that I did not want and knew nothing about, but, have turned out to be a good thing teaching me that I can still learn some new tricks!!
The winter, so far, has been uneventful with the exception of my Mother in Law's accident, Shane's torn meniscus, and the terrible season of both the J. E. T. S. and the Giants (something I really could care less about but others here are into). It has also provided me with a chance to become addicted to the TV show "Scandal". With the exception of the football teams, all will be well sooner or later.
So, here we are again at the New Year. What is in store is a mystery. What I pray for is the strength to carry on and a continuation of all the blessings from the past 12 months to continue. Even though I step over this threshold into 2014 not knowing what will be I am sure to enter it with an open heart and a love for all of you who have hugged, loved, shared and been there to lean on. Let the adventure continue and let there be peace.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Lesson: keep treading!
It's funny. Well, not ha ha funny but interesting funny.
Life. It can be moving along swimmingly and then out of nowhere you start to go under. You can kick and flail and shout or you can relax and lean back and try and float using faith and patience, trust and hope to carry you along. The harder you try to fight it the faster you go down so - relax!! Believe me, as much as you want to you have no other choice, so you just take one step at a time and attempt to understand the changes.
I am not an expert on this stuff. I am an amateur for sure. But, I have recently been let into an exclusive club. I never wanted to be excluded more from anything in my life!! The club is the one where someone you love is dealing with something you cant fix. In our case it is a disease called Multiple Sclerosis. It is not a life ending situation but, man, is it ever a life changing one.
Right before Christmas my son was diagnosed with MS. It was not a total shock since his symptoms had been showing up for awhile. Nonetheless, when you are witness to a specialized doctor telling your son he does have this disease (after a week of testing) you feel small and meek. Dorothy Gale was right! in front of the wizard you will do just about anything to get back to normal. I would gladly hunt down the wicked witch and melt her into oblivion. Too bad for me, no witch will take this away.
Fast forward to New Years Eve morning. Our elderly and very sweet dog suffered a stroke in the early hours and before nine he was gone. A hard decision had to be made; it was the right decision. We will miss that old dog everyday. Even the cat misses him. We grieved and then, because we had to, we moved on. Like I said life is funny.
So, in two weeks time we had two rather momentous events in our quiet household. Now what?
My son is adjusting to new routines that involve self administration of injections on a daily basis, relying on devices to get him safely from place to place, living back here with us after being on his own for so long and not being able to work due to his condition. He has filled out pages upon pages of paperwork. His life goals are different, he has a lot of uncertainty, yet he is so positive, strong and very accepting of the situation. Yes, he has his moments but they really are few and far between. We laugh a lot and we share a lot. Even though I wanted him to live closer this is not at all the way I wanted him to be here, but with that said, he is such good company and the reason we now put bacon on seemingly everything and sip bourbon on cold winter nights.
I would gladly change places with him. If only I could.
Now let me tell you that even though there have been losses, and big ones, there have been amazing gains!! Never ever ever before have we ever needed or been the recipients of the kindness and love that we have felt recently. My colleagues are sweet and generous beyond belief. The church has made some hard things so much easier. My school has let me know that I can and should take the time I need away from work to help care for my son. My family has been comforting and available. Our older son is a natural helper and an amazing organizer, as well as a tremendous support and provider of all manner of comfort mechanical and not. Our community has been generous in the donations coming in. Both old and new friends have opened their hearts and wallets to me and mine and answered my questions, assured me and given me strength. My neighbors are fun and so giving and helpful. Prayers are being said for us and we know it helps! Blessings abound.
This year is one of new beginnings. All new years are. You never know what will come your way but you face it. Like the saying goes, you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.
Life. It can be moving along swimmingly and then out of nowhere you start to go under. You can kick and flail and shout or you can relax and lean back and try and float using faith and patience, trust and hope to carry you along. The harder you try to fight it the faster you go down so - relax!! Believe me, as much as you want to you have no other choice, so you just take one step at a time and attempt to understand the changes.
I am not an expert on this stuff. I am an amateur for sure. But, I have recently been let into an exclusive club. I never wanted to be excluded more from anything in my life!! The club is the one where someone you love is dealing with something you cant fix. In our case it is a disease called Multiple Sclerosis. It is not a life ending situation but, man, is it ever a life changing one.
Right before Christmas my son was diagnosed with MS. It was not a total shock since his symptoms had been showing up for awhile. Nonetheless, when you are witness to a specialized doctor telling your son he does have this disease (after a week of testing) you feel small and meek. Dorothy Gale was right! in front of the wizard you will do just about anything to get back to normal. I would gladly hunt down the wicked witch and melt her into oblivion. Too bad for me, no witch will take this away.
Fast forward to New Years Eve morning. Our elderly and very sweet dog suffered a stroke in the early hours and before nine he was gone. A hard decision had to be made; it was the right decision. We will miss that old dog everyday. Even the cat misses him. We grieved and then, because we had to, we moved on. Like I said life is funny.
So, in two weeks time we had two rather momentous events in our quiet household. Now what?
My son is adjusting to new routines that involve self administration of injections on a daily basis, relying on devices to get him safely from place to place, living back here with us after being on his own for so long and not being able to work due to his condition. He has filled out pages upon pages of paperwork. His life goals are different, he has a lot of uncertainty, yet he is so positive, strong and very accepting of the situation. Yes, he has his moments but they really are few and far between. We laugh a lot and we share a lot. Even though I wanted him to live closer this is not at all the way I wanted him to be here, but with that said, he is such good company and the reason we now put bacon on seemingly everything and sip bourbon on cold winter nights.
I would gladly change places with him. If only I could.
Now let me tell you that even though there have been losses, and big ones, there have been amazing gains!! Never ever ever before have we ever needed or been the recipients of the kindness and love that we have felt recently. My colleagues are sweet and generous beyond belief. The church has made some hard things so much easier. My school has let me know that I can and should take the time I need away from work to help care for my son. My family has been comforting and available. Our older son is a natural helper and an amazing organizer, as well as a tremendous support and provider of all manner of comfort mechanical and not. Our community has been generous in the donations coming in. Both old and new friends have opened their hearts and wallets to me and mine and answered my questions, assured me and given me strength. My neighbors are fun and so giving and helpful. Prayers are being said for us and we know it helps! Blessings abound.
This year is one of new beginnings. All new years are. You never know what will come your way but you face it. Like the saying goes, you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Breadcrumbs and memories
I love crunch. I love crunchy apples and crisp potato chips and walnuts in my salad. Crusty warm Italian bread is something to be savored and to be bought before every trip back home to Pennsylvania; several loaves. It goes to the beach with us or to the Catskills or to any party there is. People request it from those coming our way. I savor it whenever I have it and try not to waste it. I know it is just bread but, boy, is it good!
I can remember my grandparents always having fresh bread at their home and the bakery up the street where they bought it or sent someone to get more of it. It was part of every meal, in the bread basket, passed around the table over and over again. They never ever wasted any of it. The soon to be stale leftover remnants of the loaf had a purpose. My grandfather would make the finest, lightest breadcrumbs ever using an old box grater. He was diligent and neat, sitting at that old kitchen table he would work away at the heels of old bread and grate it to use in the meals to come. Every week he made more. When he finally retired it was always part of his routine. I smile when I think of him, a big former longshoreman, carefully and precisely working at that table. They were the best breadcrumbs around!
Thanksgiving day is always when we celebrated his birthday. It was actually a day or two before or after but Thanksgiving day was his day. After dinner (which went on for hours and had many courses both Italian and American) we sang to him as the cake was presented. His cake was a large white cake covered with amazing amounts of fresh whipped cream and it always had the biggest, sweetest strawberries decorating it and in between the layers. I would love to share one of those cakes with him again and talk to him about his life. I know so little about him from his own words. I am sorry for that.
Many other things remind me of him. Iced water, for instance, was his drink of choice and a big carafe was always on the table. I have a large blue mug, better suited for soup than for coffee, and it always reminds me of his coffee cup. No one ever used it but him. We would never think of it. Wool plaid shirts also bring back memories.They were often red and scratchy and huge, he had many and they kept him warm while he worked outside on the docks. In his older years I remember his cane. It was more than a walking aide, it was also a weapon and a way to tease great grandchildren. He was a silent jokester!
Orthopedic shoes, too, remind me of my Grandfather. I can see him arriving at our home in his white shirt and tie and with those big special shoes. Never anything else on his feet, not a loafer or a sneaker, ever. Special shoes. He grew up in the era where you wore a shirt and tie everywhere, church, of course, but also every outing. We have a picture of him in the 40s sitting on the sand at the beach with his family, in his white shirt and tie and those shoes.
I dont make my own breadcrumbs, although I should, and I cant remember his voice anymore, but I will always remember him. He treated me well, took me out for special outings when I was very young and one time saved my life. Tough on the outside but very tenderhearted.
Happy 109th, Grandpa, and thanks for so much.
I can remember my grandparents always having fresh bread at their home and the bakery up the street where they bought it or sent someone to get more of it. It was part of every meal, in the bread basket, passed around the table over and over again. They never ever wasted any of it. The soon to be stale leftover remnants of the loaf had a purpose. My grandfather would make the finest, lightest breadcrumbs ever using an old box grater. He was diligent and neat, sitting at that old kitchen table he would work away at the heels of old bread and grate it to use in the meals to come. Every week he made more. When he finally retired it was always part of his routine. I smile when I think of him, a big former longshoreman, carefully and precisely working at that table. They were the best breadcrumbs around!
Thanksgiving day is always when we celebrated his birthday. It was actually a day or two before or after but Thanksgiving day was his day. After dinner (which went on for hours and had many courses both Italian and American) we sang to him as the cake was presented. His cake was a large white cake covered with amazing amounts of fresh whipped cream and it always had the biggest, sweetest strawberries decorating it and in between the layers. I would love to share one of those cakes with him again and talk to him about his life. I know so little about him from his own words. I am sorry for that.
Many other things remind me of him. Iced water, for instance, was his drink of choice and a big carafe was always on the table. I have a large blue mug, better suited for soup than for coffee, and it always reminds me of his coffee cup. No one ever used it but him. We would never think of it. Wool plaid shirts also bring back memories.They were often red and scratchy and huge, he had many and they kept him warm while he worked outside on the docks. In his older years I remember his cane. It was more than a walking aide, it was also a weapon and a way to tease great grandchildren. He was a silent jokester!
Orthopedic shoes, too, remind me of my Grandfather. I can see him arriving at our home in his white shirt and tie and with those big special shoes. Never anything else on his feet, not a loafer or a sneaker, ever. Special shoes. He grew up in the era where you wore a shirt and tie everywhere, church, of course, but also every outing. We have a picture of him in the 40s sitting on the sand at the beach with his family, in his white shirt and tie and those shoes.
I dont make my own breadcrumbs, although I should, and I cant remember his voice anymore, but I will always remember him. He treated me well, took me out for special outings when I was very young and one time saved my life. Tough on the outside but very tenderhearted.
Happy 109th, Grandpa, and thanks for so much.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Picking pumpkins and memories
It is 10
days until Halloween. The news feeds are loaded with the stories of
young families venturing out to find an orange treasure to set out on
their front step. Everyone gets one. Everyone has different tastes
and needs when finding the perfect one. Most of the little people want
the biggest pumpkin in the pile and most of their families find a way to
haul it to their cars. Sometimes I see a little pair of hands
clutching a wee little one as if it is the Hope diamond. They are
scenes playing out all over this country this month and they come with their own set of memories.
As a kid my mother and our next door neighbor, Mrs. Tucker, would load up all 8 of us in a big station wagon with no seat belts and a "way back" rear facing seat and drive to a huge farmers stand close by in New Jersey with "The Monster Mash" probably playing on the radio. Every year we went together as an extended family and had cider and doughnuts and got pumpkins. I can vividly remember the bright painted faces on so many of those pumpkins, but, for the life of me cannot remember the name of the orchard. It is a memory I hold dear of innocent times with friends. I learned to roast fresh seeds that came in those pumpkins, and to reach in and grab the glop of pumpkin guts. We would carve them and light them and gaze at them. The next week we would go trick or treating, after the obligatory group picture, from right after school until dark. We used huge grocery bags or pillowcases to get our loot. We went out alone, without escorts or guardians. My mother always always made lentil soup on Halloween for dinner, my guess is because it could warm us up and could be served to whomever wandered in at any time.
A few miles from my current home in any direction are lots of places to pick the perfect pumpkin. The festivals abound and the crisp air helps the mood. Just at the end or our lane, on the other side of a very old stone wall, are fields that are cultivated yearly by Penn State and grow a variety of things, mostly corn but often tomatoes, beans,potatoes, grasses and who knows what else. Years ago they grew pumpkins. Acres and acres of pumpkins. I am sure they were testing something in the crop or in the soil but I never found out what. What I do know is that as summer turned to fall the fields were left to rot. The vegetation wilted and the dots of orange were visible and plentiful. It was as if the pumpkin fairy had stopped by just for my kids and their friends! We wandered down the lane with a wagon and high hopes. It did not take long to realize that we could fill the wagon and still not have made a dent in the harvest. That is exactly what we did. Picked and chose and loaded up. Along with the pumpkins came corn stalks to place around the door and to top it off, it was Indian corn so we got some of that, too. I will never forget how perfect it was. I have not seen the university plant pumpkins there again. Curious.
This week I hope to choose my own orange orb, roast the seeds and carve it into something. It will not be the artistic type of jack-o-lantern that my son Adam can do, but it will be fine. It would be much more fun to go with a car full of kids to get one and someday, maybe, I will get to do that again, in the meantime, I will watch the Great Pumpkin on TV and enjoy the season filled with sweet memories, warm cider, lentil soup and try not to dip into the bags of candy until after the trick-or-treaters are gone for another year.
As a kid my mother and our next door neighbor, Mrs. Tucker, would load up all 8 of us in a big station wagon with no seat belts and a "way back" rear facing seat and drive to a huge farmers stand close by in New Jersey with "The Monster Mash" probably playing on the radio. Every year we went together as an extended family and had cider and doughnuts and got pumpkins. I can vividly remember the bright painted faces on so many of those pumpkins, but, for the life of me cannot remember the name of the orchard. It is a memory I hold dear of innocent times with friends. I learned to roast fresh seeds that came in those pumpkins, and to reach in and grab the glop of pumpkin guts. We would carve them and light them and gaze at them. The next week we would go trick or treating, after the obligatory group picture, from right after school until dark. We used huge grocery bags or pillowcases to get our loot. We went out alone, without escorts or guardians. My mother always always made lentil soup on Halloween for dinner, my guess is because it could warm us up and could be served to whomever wandered in at any time.
A few miles from my current home in any direction are lots of places to pick the perfect pumpkin. The festivals abound and the crisp air helps the mood. Just at the end or our lane, on the other side of a very old stone wall, are fields that are cultivated yearly by Penn State and grow a variety of things, mostly corn but often tomatoes, beans,potatoes, grasses and who knows what else. Years ago they grew pumpkins. Acres and acres of pumpkins. I am sure they were testing something in the crop or in the soil but I never found out what. What I do know is that as summer turned to fall the fields were left to rot. The vegetation wilted and the dots of orange were visible and plentiful. It was as if the pumpkin fairy had stopped by just for my kids and their friends! We wandered down the lane with a wagon and high hopes. It did not take long to realize that we could fill the wagon and still not have made a dent in the harvest. That is exactly what we did. Picked and chose and loaded up. Along with the pumpkins came corn stalks to place around the door and to top it off, it was Indian corn so we got some of that, too. I will never forget how perfect it was. I have not seen the university plant pumpkins there again. Curious.
This week I hope to choose my own orange orb, roast the seeds and carve it into something. It will not be the artistic type of jack-o-lantern that my son Adam can do, but it will be fine. It would be much more fun to go with a car full of kids to get one and someday, maybe, I will get to do that again, in the meantime, I will watch the Great Pumpkin on TV and enjoy the season filled with sweet memories, warm cider, lentil soup and try not to dip into the bags of candy until after the trick-or-treaters are gone for another year.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Helplessly Hoping, not the song.
For the past few months the reunion page has been getting more and more hits on Facebook. I check it out often, seeing posts by people who are planning on going, those reaching out for info on long lost friends and the general banter between people who have kept in touch over the last 4 decades. I have not kept in touch with many of my high school classmates, even those who swore under their senior picture that we would always be friends and our bond was too strong to break. I did have the good fortune a year ago to share a great brunch with 3 girls from school, and it may have been the only time the four of us did anything social together. It was wonderful and I am grateful to Bonnie, Laurie and Barbara for the gift of that day. A brunch with just a few people is one thing, but this is totally different.
As the party gets closer I get more nervous. I really want to go and have committed to being there. I sent in the money. I even think I know what I am going to wear! In the back of my mind, however, is the nagging thought of being on the outside looking in; becoming, once again, the awkward person I was back then, not having one hundredth of the self knowledge that I have now.
When I tell my current friends that this occasion is coming up most say the same thing, that they don't do reunions. They loathe them, actually, and would rather eat worms than go and see the people that they spent four years with in high school.
Not encouraging.
In August I took a little tour of Clarkstown High School. I walked through the front doors and remembered where the library is, where the attendance office and auditorium are, where my locker was and wandered in an about for a while. I walked into the gym and looked up at the names on the far wall of the stellar athletes who played there. I knew exactly how to get to the annex and peeked into the girls room that now is smoke free. It felt good to be there. Good to have flashbacks to the days when our football Saturdays were littered with tiny bits of IBM punch card confetti, purple and gold was worn proudly together, corsages with bubble gum adorned us on our Sweet 16th birthdays and we turned our class rings 72 times! I remember our long hair on both boys and girls, our hippyish ways, earth shoes and faded jeans, our huge class and the crushes we all had. I remember falling in love with James Taylor and his songs, and gazing lovingly at his picture on the Sweet Baby James album in the cafeteria. I still place my hands on the home keys of my keyboard (asdf semi lkj) and remember driver's ed in-car antics and the senior breakfast. Whenever I hear the song "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Good-bye" it reminds me of an amazing basketball season! I remember the bright yellow halter top dress I wore to the senior dinner and the great friends I went with! and the Pub, of course.
None of that makes me less nervous because even though I am not that awkward girl anymore she lives on in my memory. I still have to walk into that room in a few weeks with my short hair that is more white than brown, and share my very ordinary (but pretty wonderful) life of the past 40 years with people who I would not know if I ran into them on the street and may never have hung out with all those years ago. Yes, it is giving me ajeda even as I write this! but, in a good way, I think.
So, class of 1972, I am counting on you all to remember that I will have a million butterflies in my stomach, and that this is not going to be easy. I promise, if you remember this about me, I will return the favor and remember that you may also be a bit jittery. See you in October.
As the party gets closer I get more nervous. I really want to go and have committed to being there. I sent in the money. I even think I know what I am going to wear! In the back of my mind, however, is the nagging thought of being on the outside looking in; becoming, once again, the awkward person I was back then, not having one hundredth of the self knowledge that I have now.
When I tell my current friends that this occasion is coming up most say the same thing, that they don't do reunions. They loathe them, actually, and would rather eat worms than go and see the people that they spent four years with in high school.
Not encouraging.
In August I took a little tour of Clarkstown High School. I walked through the front doors and remembered where the library is, where the attendance office and auditorium are, where my locker was and wandered in an about for a while. I walked into the gym and looked up at the names on the far wall of the stellar athletes who played there. I knew exactly how to get to the annex and peeked into the girls room that now is smoke free. It felt good to be there. Good to have flashbacks to the days when our football Saturdays were littered with tiny bits of IBM punch card confetti, purple and gold was worn proudly together, corsages with bubble gum adorned us on our Sweet 16th birthdays and we turned our class rings 72 times! I remember our long hair on both boys and girls, our hippyish ways, earth shoes and faded jeans, our huge class and the crushes we all had. I remember falling in love with James Taylor and his songs, and gazing lovingly at his picture on the Sweet Baby James album in the cafeteria. I still place my hands on the home keys of my keyboard (asdf semi lkj) and remember driver's ed in-car antics and the senior breakfast. Whenever I hear the song "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Good-bye" it reminds me of an amazing basketball season! I remember the bright yellow halter top dress I wore to the senior dinner and the great friends I went with! and the Pub, of course.
None of that makes me less nervous because even though I am not that awkward girl anymore she lives on in my memory. I still have to walk into that room in a few weeks with my short hair that is more white than brown, and share my very ordinary (but pretty wonderful) life of the past 40 years with people who I would not know if I ran into them on the street and may never have hung out with all those years ago. Yes, it is giving me ajeda even as I write this! but, in a good way, I think.
So, class of 1972, I am counting on you all to remember that I will have a million butterflies in my stomach, and that this is not going to be easy. I promise, if you remember this about me, I will return the favor and remember that you may also be a bit jittery. See you in October.
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