Bingo--I think I know

I think I may have figured something out. Unfortunately, it is not an apron or penguin revelation, but, still related to those mysterious thefts; sort of.

It is in the genes. Our propensity to party, to open a bottle or a can, to mix a cocktail or two, it is an inherited trait. I have proof both in photographic form and in old memories. Let me try and take you back.

Off the kitchen at 377 Union Street is the doorway down to the cellar. The way down was dark, a little damp, twisty and edged with cool rocks. I believe there was a dirt floor. The stairs seemed narrow to me and the mystery of what happened or may have happened in that below ground space never left me whether I was seven or twenty-seven. Down those stairs held an amazing place which, in my opinion, never really "fit" with the attitude of the rest of the house. The dark wood paneled walls with the brass sconces surrounded the long ornate bar. The molding behind the bar was elegantly carved and framed the large mirror and glass shelves for glasses and bottles. It was a place specifically designed for hanging out and having a libation or two. Generations must have entertained along that bar. I am not sure but think it may have been built in the early decades of the 2oth century. Prohibition may have played a part. Who knows? I can only imagine the smoky air and the laughter filtering up into the rest of the house. Maybe a poker game or two was played. Maybe a birthday party or a New Year's Eve celebration. I was only privileged to go there many years after it's heyday. I have heard very few stories of the goings on in that room.

On the other hand I do remember the celebrations in the parlor. Huge groups of people, lots and lots of food and wine and cigarettes. Loud voices and running kids going around and around. Sometimes the pocket doors would be partially closed and someone would be napping in the bed in the back room. Mostly it was a place to experiment in the hours after the party for the younger set, to sip the left over liquor in the glasses, (but not the ones with the butts in them), to try and be quiet while the sleeping went on, to maybe wear a crystal chandelier drop as an earring, but mostly, to observe how people like to party hardy when surrounded by friends and family.

It still happens. We still like to party hardy. Some hardier than others. Yet, it is now something I am totally sure of...it is in our genes. Good or bad, it is in our genes. Salute!

Family Trees both real and virtual

This morning I noticed the leaves on a few trees dropping silently to the ground. Another autumn is on it's way and summer is slowly winding down.

I have great trees on our property, a few with stories attached. The Maple tree in our side yard is round and large and healthy; knowing it came from a cutting a past neighbor had stuck in a dirt pile 20 years ago makes it special. The trees alongside our driveway were supposed to be dead and falling over by now. They were a gift from Dolores and Harry the first year we lived here (1985) and arrived at our newly built house dormant and with little or no information. The tags said "fast growing Poplars". That meant nothing to us. We stuck them in the ground quickly without much thought to placement since we were sure they were going to die. All five of them are still here, about 50feet tall and should have been stuck in the ground in other locations. Our most distinctive tree is the one that was abused by 2 storms and at first lost the large back limb and then the front third, which laid on the ground until a few months ago. The flowering pear was my favorite to look at all year and at my insistence (and more accusations as to my sanity or lack thereof) is still standing and alive; even though it is now Y shaped and without much of a backside!

The other tree is our family tree. It is planted everywhere in our hearts and minds. The Magnolia tree in the front yard of my parents home which is perfect for climbing on no matter how young you are, and the Christmas trees surrounded by people in the parlor in Brooklyn, the dead evergreen that my sisters and brother and I hauled along a beach in the 60s and decorated with sea shells, the trees in Lois' yard that were not thrown into the bonfire last June, Cathy, Kenny and their grown kids getting an interesting "Charlie Brown" tree one year from the tree farm. The willow tree that clogged up the entire sewer line on the day of our wedding, hours before the guest were to arrive for the reception in my parents back yard (thanks to my father and the Recines's who took it all in stride) Other trees in Louisville, Chalfont, Sparta, that hold memories of creeks,wild times and wildlife, good food, great company and celebrations. Friendship trees are blooming, too, with so many new people entering my life through faith and books and soirees. The trees in our lives are as varied and interesting as we are!

So once again I look back on the year since my "new year" always starts with the first day of school, and I see the branches spreading out with more connections, leaps of faith, closer and more meaningful relationships, planning for the next adventure and hoping for surprises to come. I will look at my damaged but thriving pear tree and never doubt that we can weather whatever is next because we will weather it together.

"Do not be afraid to go out on a limb ... That's where the fruit is."