I Don't Like the Cemetery.........

It's been terribly remiss of me to shun visiting the graves of the family members I have lost.  I don't know if it's the feelings, fears, and frowns that come to the surface when I'm there.  It could be that I believe that loved ones that have passed are not in the cemetery in spirit, only in body; so I could study a photograph of any of them on my own time and in my own home and say a prayer and reminisce.  So why then am I putting a picture like this one in this piece?

It all started with a letter I received in the mail last week informing my family that my Mother's name and dates had been engraved on the headstone.  I felt the need to drive to Yeadon, about an hour away, to inspect the work.  I enlisted my Dad's sister and favorite nonagenerian, Aunt Rose, to brave the wind and cold and go with me.  She obliged and, after the drive and search of the parameters of the grounds, we found the grave and all was as it should have been.  The business of our visit was complete.

The irony of the whole thing is the coincidence of the placement of that grave.  Aunt Rose has retold the story to me again and I'll share it the best I can.  My paternal grandmother, Vincenza Bonanno, had passed away unexpectedly at a very young age just before Christmas, 1941.  My Dad, who was only 18 at the time, was still mourning her loss as he began hanging out with and courting my Mom.  A trip to the cemetery to visit the graves of lost loved ones in both their families revealed what is in this picture.  The headstone on the right with BONANNO engraved on the front of it is my father's family's memorial.  It was on that day in early 1942 that Mom and Dad realized that the graves of their families, both of which had been purchased decades before, were separated by only one memorial.  The headstone on the left with GIACCHINO engraved on it is my mother's family's memorial. 

So now, in 2011, I have been reminded of this small world story my parents shared so many times over the years with amazement and pride.  We have been at the site too much.  The maternal immediate family is memorialized on the left, and the paternal side, as well as Mom and Dad, are on the right. I'll probably not visit this place any time soon.  I prefer the warm feeling of seeing their faces in pictures and remembering the smiles through the years to being in Yeadon and seeing their names etched in stone.  That being said, I do love this small world story.  It is a metaphor for what the two families have meant to me and to each other through the years.  That will last forever........

ANOTHER PERSONAL TOP 10: YOU KNOW YOU ARE MATURING WHEN.......

10.  You are the proud owner of what you perceive to be one of your newer kitchen appliances, a bread machine, and you go to make a loaf of bread and you discover that one of the ingredients, powdered milk, has an expiration date of 1998 on the package.  You realize that a bread machine is not that newfangled.....

9.  You spend nearly half of that rare half hour of solitude in the house searching for your glasses so that you can enjoy that rare half hour of solitude in the house.....

8.  Your classroom story has the word stall in it, as in retail stall at a farmer's market.  When asked what types of things could be sold in stalls, one student answers, "Corn dogs!"  To satisfy your desire to be wise and a conversation starter, you inform the students that you have never had a corn dog.  The student gets wide eyed and exclaims, "You mean you're like 35 and you've never had a corn dog?!"  Another student yells, "He's not 35, he's in his 60's!"  You thank God for short attention spans and your ability to change the subject on demand.......

7.   Your spouse has threatened that if she ever finds the keys in the refrigerator, you're on the way to the home.  One night you are cleaning up after dinner and you suddenly lose the dishrag.  You search high and low for it but alas, it's nowhere to be found.  You surrender and get a clean one and finish the job at hand.  The next day you are thankfully the first one down in the morning and open the fridge to get the coffee out and there it is...your dishrag.  You quickly remove it and put it in the wash before you know who comes down......

6.  Your wife and son are singing in the choir at church and leave the house before you to arrive early to Mass.  You get yourself ready and dash to the car and the two minute ride to church seems like twenty.  You rush and get to your pew and sit and take off your coat and try to get comfortable.  You look down to make sure you've dotted all your i's and crossed all your t's when you got dressed and, lo and behold, your zipper isn't zipped!  You contemplate putting your coat back on to hide the evidence and go to the restroom to fix the problem, realize that it's a steep rickety old staircase that leads there, so you just pull it up right then and there....then look around to see if anyone was watching.  You sigh with relief when you realize that no one was nearby.  Another sign of maturity was not being phased by the whole thing.  Ten years ago the incident would have given you an anxiety attack.  This time it's back to business as usual.........

5.  You look at the picture hanging on the wall of your lovely daughter and begin remembering days gone by.  You flash back to her wonderful middle school days when you escorted her to the Father-Daughter dance at her school.  You are dancing a slow dance and you whisper in her ear, "People are gonna think I'm dancing with some young chick!"  She retorts instinctively, "People are gonna think I'm dancing with my grandfather!"...........

4.  You keep the hand lotion and the ceramic cooktop cleaner in the cabinet above the stove.  They are both white creams in tube like containers.  You reach for one of the tubes and squeeze a dab on your hand and go to put the tube away before you rub it in.  You gasp.  Your wife says alarmingly, "What's wrong?"  You remember the refrigerator incident you're trying to hide from her and you reply, "Nothing."  You quickly wash the cooktop cleaner off your hands while your wife is saying, "Didn't sound like nothing to me."  You confess that you accidentally put ceramic cooktop cleaner on your hands to help with the dryness.  The two of you share one of those laughing moments while you still conceal the dishrag in the refrigerator incident.  Aha!! Maybe the case of your dry chapped hands has finally been solved!..............

3.  Your kids are all drivers, save the last, who is poised to learn to drive, so you reflect on how many years you have been behind the wheel , and you think about the adults in your life, especially coworkers, and you realize that your driver's license is quite a bit older than most of them.........

2.   You return to the 1960's and smile:  A snowfall meant no school, walking to North Avenue Park with your sled and gliding down the steep slope with the foot high bump at the bottom that would send you and your sled sailing; building snowmen and snow forts for hours and coming inside with frozen hands and feet to some hot chocolate made by Mom; Going to the cul-de-sac where someone had piled all the plowed snow to form a frozen mountain in the center, and sliding down on your bottom for hours...............then you return to 2011: a snowfall means no school; driving on slippery roads; your children driving on slippery roads; shoveling; aching; fines for not shoveling; scraping windshields; freezing cold; panic attacks.........BAH!  Humbug!.............

1.  You embrace all of the above.  These are the moments that enable you to share a story or a laugh with someone you love.  You have lived and continue to live.  Surviving each moment, putting the little things in their place, tackling the big things, appreciating what you have, understanding what you don't, appreciating the highs and lows of the lives of those you interact with, showing compassion, listening, accepting differences.  You look at the approaching Christmas season as a gift and accept, though sometimes anxiously, the challenges of 2012:  the year you will remember those you have lost with a sentimental smile, the year you will continue to appreciate the fact that your children will continue to mature and share their journeys with you, the year that will see the first of the grandchildren, the year your baby will go off to college...... you'll be 55 and still alive!  You don't always find it easy, but you are glad that you have survived it to this point and that you can laugh at yourself a heck of a lot more than you ever could (You are hoping that it's not because there's so much more to laugh at)!!  You wish all you know a very fulfilling close to 2011 and may all the hard times of 2012 be trumped by little moments of laughter and love.

********************************************************************************

Maybe you just smiled, said a kind word or two, maybe you called during that difficult time, or  shared my pride in the accomplishments....in whatever way you've touched my life, I thank you and wish you MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY CHANUKAH,  AND HAPPY NEW YEAR................

CRANKY CURMUDGEON CONTEMPLATES CONQUERING CHRISTMAS COMMERCIALISM!

No, it's not Ebenezer Scrooge......OR the Grinch.  It's just me. For some reason, this year more than ever, I'm having a hard time adjusting to what the media is doing to my holiday. This struggle to maintain the Christmas spirit on my own terms and wean myself from the politically correct version of the celebration is becoming a learning experience.  I've adapted my habits to accommodate my increasing disdain for commercialism and love for family and tradition.

The first thing I need to do is stay away from those radio stations that claim to be my 'Home For the Holidays'.  Don't get me wrong - I love Christmas music, and anyone who is related to me will attest to this with a roll of the eyes as I can get carried away with my decades of tunes conveniently on a playlist on my Ipod.  However, I don't begin playing those tunes on Halloween!  Those radio holiday music players are only on in my car for the twenty minutes I commute to and from work each day.  So how can I be sick of hearing Jimmy Durante singing Frosty the Snowman when there is still more time before Christmas gets here?  With all due respect, I choose not to own that recording because it's not one I would care to listen to without seeing the television special........ditto for Burl Ives's Holly Jolly Christmas......and Boris Karloff's You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.  ...and as much as I like the music of Michael Jackson, I don't want to hear his version of I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus every day either. These tunes seem to be playing every time I am in the car!  Nope, I play my carefully selected tunes from my own library and get filled with joy and poignance as I reminisce with old family favorites as well as my own Christmas tunes from the past and present.  I prepare for the upcoming celebration and remember all the joyous ones that preceded this one.

Another thing I also try to do is avoid watching commercial television, a very difficult task indeed.  No, my friends, every kiss does NOT begin with KAY!  I will not know any more if I KOHL'S than I know right now!  I will not be buying anyone a new car! No, I will not grow tired of the season just because networks decide to air ten commercials consecutively during each break.  I'll walk away and ignore all the noise, and I raised four kids...believe me I am an expert at tuning out the noise!  If I can't walk away I'll try the next best alternative at which I have become proficient.......dozing in my chair.    Those ads certainly can't depress me if I don't acknowledge them, now can they?!

Now, I’m not one to complain….wait a minute!   Yes, I am!.  In fact, I gave up complaining for Lent one year and it almost killed me.  I would precede every grumble with, “This is NOT a complaint, but…..” 

So, this is not a complaint, BUT, today is only December 13, 2011 and I heard this on one of the holiday stations:  “Here’s a preview of some of the great music you’ll hear as soon as Christmas is over,” and they proceeded to play snippets of three songs and repeated, “Yes, as soon as Christmas is over, we’ll return to the music you love.”  I do love the music, but………..

It’s making me so sad.  They’re saying that  the day after Christmas there will be no more Christmas ……oh, I’m sorry……..holiday music; there will already be Christmas….oh, I’m sorry…holiday trees piling up at the drop off site in my town; and some folks will have stopped lighting their houses, though the season runs for a couple more weeks.  I refuse to get depressed.

     You know the perennial favorite, White Christmas?  Well, here's what the world's done to it:

    

   The songs are playing,

   The stores look bright,

   The ads on TV bring change,

   The season of haste's in range

In print, on the screen, it's strange.

Cause it’s October the thirty-first

  And the powers that be do thirst.

They’re dreaming of a bland Christmas

Just like the ones that bring the dough

  Where Black Friday’s on Thursday

      It’s now retail-ers day

And fam’ly traditions start to go.

             Their hol-iday just gets stranger

             With every Symbol gone away

             Where the Wise Men, and Manger, and Child

             Get the non believers hot and riled.


 

Well, in a year of major change in my household and my family, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have the memories, the faith, and the family.  If the season was all about putting retailers in the black and starting the so called public holiday in the summer and ending it on Christmas Day, I'd be seriously depressed.  So, I decorate with traditional Christmas fare.  There  IS a Nativity scene, a CHRISTMAS tree, a plethora of Christmas films and television episodes on DVD for commercial free viewing at my convenience. There is a family that, despite loss, begins to rejuvenate with my children's loves and an expected grandchild.  There is a Christmas Eve dinner where the prayers of the family are heard with soft guitar Christmas music playing on the IPod and Christmas lights and candles light the scene.  We were fortunate enough to have 22 family members at our home around our Thanksgiving table and all who are available will join us for Christmas dinner.  The Season will be celebrated beyond New Year's Day in this house.   

So, bring it on world, I'll not succumb to the politically correct way to celebrate.  I'll embrace my family and friends with varied customs and beliefs as they celebrate, and I'll say with love to all I know, as a man who has known many blessings, 

                           MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!  

The Bonanno Family CHRISTMAS TREE 2011



Our Nativity scene was a gift to my wife Jackie from a now deceased relative.  After a few years of displaying chipped pieces, I freshened them up with a little carving and a new coat of paint.

 

Small Towns

My grandfather Guiseppe Bonanno's barber shop on Porter Street in South Philadelphia.  My dad, Frank Bonanno, is the little guy in the chair.  My aunt, Rose Bonanno, is peeking around the corner in the background.

    
     Remember the neighborhood business?  It was a place you could go and be greeted by name, taken care of, and sent on your way.  Well, I have a neighborhood pharmacy where this sort of thing still happens.  I only take one prescription medication, and once a month I pick it up and pay the $11.30 charge.  I walk toward the check out counter and before I say a word, the gal behind the cash register has my prescription ready for me to pay for. 
     This week I got a call from our insurance carrier saying that I could get the same medication from them at a savings of $3.00 per quarter, and it could be delivered to my home with no extra cost for shipping.  They emphasized the convenience of not having to venture to the pharmacy to pick up the medicine.  Don't they know that I wistfully crave the days of the small five and ten stores, pharmacies, country stores,  grocery stores, and hardware stores?
     The availability of a neighborhood grocery store where I could go in a pinch to grab that necessary ingredient for the dish I was preparing became extinct when that huge department store with all the 'Great Values'  invaded the territory.
     In days gone by, the local handymen and women in my town's little hardware store would jump at the chance to help me whenever I went in with a question, and we had a codependent relationship...I needed the advice and they took pride in sharing their expertise.  I don't see them anymore and I don't know where they've gone. 
     There was even a small department store where we could fetch that emergency gift for a kid's birthday party, have the kid's pictures taken, get a picture framed, or just browse if that's what we wanted to do.
     You know those old sitcoms like Andy Griffith where everyone knew the barber, the mechanic, sheriff, and vice versa?  My grandfather was a barber on Porter Street in South Philadelphia, and he had a steady set of devoted customers that I remember to this day because relationships were formed.  True, I didn't always like visiting him because the barber shop was in his home and the usual dialog began with him saying with his still strong Italian accent, "You need a haircut, Josie?"  I would politely say no and Dad would give me THAT look until I gave the okay for him to bond with his grandson.  Many times there was a regular customer in the shop just sitting and chatting with us, and he was not even getting his hair cut.....he was just talking.  I remember New Year's Day being a treat because in those days the Mummers would march down Porter Street and we could shun the cold by sitting in the barber shop window with hot chocolate made by my Aunt Rose and watching the parade.  I remember to this day marveling at a Mummer who actually came into the barber shop to use the restroom to change into his costume. 
     My mother was a sales clerk in the local pharmacy of the town where I was raised and everyone knew her and she knew them.  Her clients became her friends and came in daily just to say hi and buy something small.  She loved them all and listened to and shared their stories. 
     So, it is for these reasons that I will thank my insurance company for their offer, but for as long as I am healthy enough to be independent of prescription medication, I will hang onto the last of my small town fetishes for as long as I can.  As long as I am addressed by name by a living human being, I'll inconveniently drive the five minutes each way per month to the neighborhood pharmacy, and continue to remember fondly the now extinct small town feel of the small towns I have left, and the one I moved into twenty-three years ago.

11-11-11

11-11-11...This time of year is a poignant time of rememberence in my family. My Dad, Frank Bonanno, was a World War II veteran who was awarded the Bronze Star Medal. He loved his Flag and his Country. 

Tomorrow, 11-12-11 marks the sixth anniversary of his passing. His funeral was on 11-16-05, 60 years to the day after his discharge from the Army. He was honored on that day for his service with a gun salute and a gutwrenching rendition of Taps. We thank all Veterans this day for their sacrifice. I thank my Dad for just being Dad, and it is most humbling to know that I am in any way like him.

Pregnant

Summer 1986 - Joe, Jackie, Kevin and PREGNANT!!

I am the proud father of four.  Four children...four pregnancies...years of experience and wisdom.  At this point, it would be criminal of me not to share my most prized pearls with future dads:

First,  do not worry about the birthing experience being as nauseating as the ones in the videos you are shown in your childbirth classes.  To view the birth of one's child at a proximity that close would just be weird.  I remember the anxiety I felt, thinking that one hundred percent of my visual perception at the birth would be the birthing area and the baby coming out only...not true!  The room, the medical staff, the machines and monitors...they're all there and visible and the actual birth will be your focus, but  much smaller and NOT everything you see.  The technology that enabled the making of the childbirth videos...it's just wrong!

Second, when it gets to be a later time in the pregnancy, the lovely mom-to-be's comfort in the bed begins to diminish as she gets hotter and more showy. She'll be tossing and turning and will undoubtedly work her way over to your eighth of the bed at some point during the night.  You just suck it in and nestle...for in just a short time there may be a kid between the two of you and you'll wish for your eighth and her seven eighths of the bed back.

Next, let's say hypothetically that you are in charge of getting a meal together for your family, and your beautiful wife is in her first trimester of her second pregnancy.  She is prone to feeling sick with this one.  You decide to make a meatloaf.  The recipe calls for breadcrumbs or oatmeal and there are none to be found in your kitchen pantry.  You frantically look for a substitute because you don't really feel like packing kid #1 up to go to the grocery store to get the missing item.  You beam with excitement when you find a box of Golden Grahams and immediately substitute the breadcrumbs with them.  Upon serving the masterpiece of a meatloaf and watching your partner take the first bite and make a face reminiscent of Lucy tasting Vitameatavegamin for the first time, you learn that you NEVER put Golden Grahams in meatloaf.

Additionally, during that final time of labor called transition, all the dependency of your partner on you for breathing and moral support goes down the toilet.  She's in pain and may say things that are not as joyful as the first parts of the whole experience.  You don't want to eat peanut butter crackers right before this stage, no matter how famished you are.  She WILL call you Peanut Butter Breath and reprimand you in front of any hospital staff member who is within earshot...and they WILL be within earshot!

...and finally, what's this thing called 'nursing' anyway?  At this point, yet another transition is made.  What was once hidden from the outside world is now the food source of this thing that came out of WHERE?  Suddenly, those things once hidden are exposed on demand and the kid is satisfied. 

None of my four pregnancies were alike and all were a gift.  Go on now!  Succumb to it!  Enjoy it all.  For someday you will have made it to the transition of watching the youngest getting ready to leave...and when you have reached this stage, you will have anecdotes for your kids to enjoy, and pearls of wisdom that will bring a smile.  So, what have I really learned about the pregnancy thing that I can share to help the next guy get through his own pregnancy?  NOTHING!! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!

When you're part of a pair who's with child,

And you say "'til next time" to the wild,

         Don't fear the position,

         Embrace the transition,

When the kid's shown his face, you'll have smiled.................

      

SPAM WATCHES, WRIST WATCHES, AND MANHOOD

     This is a story about spam.  I’m not talking about the kind you spread on your sandwich, but the kind you get embedded among your important emails.   For the longest time, I could check my work email and be assured that the junk email had been isolated, taken out and trashed.

     This year, though, my place of employment discarded the old garbage collector for a new and improved version.  It sounded like it would be the be all and end all of safety in my email account.   I would continue to get only work related items, and the advertisements would never see the light of day.

     The problem that surfaced during the summer was that there was a delay between the removal of the old spam detector and the installation of the new one.   Soon that safe, clean collection of valid emails became infested with dark, dirty invaders.  One at a time, I would check the preview pane and discard the offers of Rolex watches; RVs; and, most importantly offers to increase the size and quality of my manhood. 

     By late summer, the new and improved spam detection system had been installed and was good to go.  Once daily, I would get a summary email containing all those types of emails I was deleting one at a time.  This was great  I thought.  I don’t have to take the time to dismiss the offers of no use to me anymore.  I would only have to delete one item of nonsense per day.  I deleted it with the confidence that nothing valid was contained therein and it was all trash.

     Then, IT came…the request in the form of an email from the Administration to look at that summary carefully to see if any important emails were included because some were obviously being deemed spam, but they were actually of high importance. 

     So, every day I obediently look through my summary.  I rarely find anything work related, but have the comfort of knowing that if I ever need an RV, a new watch, or…………you know………..I’ll have a place to shop.

DANGER: TEACHER IN BAD MOOD!!

I have always dreaded having my picture taken. It seems like that image I have of myself in my brain always gets distorted when I see the photo.  I dread any picture that might appear on Facebook or on someone's digital library of the back of my balding head. Thank God Facebook allows me to untag myself in someone else's picture of me.

This year, Picture Day at school was no exception to the 'I hate cameras' facet of my life. I obediently did what I was told and went to the gym to visit the photographer. He took my slip of paper with my name on it and made me kneel.  Suddenly, I was kneeling for a Lifetouch photographer and before he could say, "Look right here and smile," the deed was done.  He said, "Yeah, that's a great one!"  I guess I burst his bubble when I looked at the image on his screen and said, "Yechhh!"  He said rather stunned, "Do you want me to take another one?"  I replied, "Naa, it's as good as it's gonna get." Thanks and see ya next year!

A few weeks have passed and as if looking in the mirror wasn't enough, this was the annual new photo ID in my mailbox week where I work. I am priveleged to work in a place of education, so I get a whole package, thanks to Lifetouch, with my photo in several sizes. I must interject that I am not a user of  foul words, and I have to be pretty disgruntled to even think of one, but for the past couple of years, when I look at my new school photo, I think WTF!!...and this time I don't mean Wasn't That Fantastic!!  Now I can look at the ID badge and see what I really look like, and then see it blown up!  Thanks to all those brilliant inventors who have used modern technology to enable me to see every line, every piece of stubble, and every out of place hair (or lack thereof!).  I never knew that my eyes were slightly crossed and bloodshot.  Thanks for bringing that into focus for me, Lifetouch!

That package of photos never made it home.  I don't want one of the reasons I look forward to my retirement to be that I won't have to get my picture taken at school anymore.............Airbrushing or digital restoring, please!

This Week's Senior Moment.........

This week's senior moment is noteworthy because it involves a coworker who had one simultaneously.  The school day had ended and we exited the building together.  The battery in my remote door unlocker had been disfunctional and I couldn't remember where I parked my car.  I was pressing the lock button hoping to have a revival moment and find my car, but it was not to be. Finally I remembered that the lot was rather full when I arrived at the school that morning, so it wasn't in my usual row.  I looked a little further and lo and behold, there was my car!  My coworker, who had been helping me spot my car, proceeded to try to unlock her vehicle with her remote door unlocker, pointing and wondering why the door wouldn't unlock.  After a couple of tries, she discovered it was not her car, but an identical one belonging to another coworker.  She proceeded to her own vehicle, and we laughed hard at our double dose of seniority, and bid each other a good evening.  We smiled as we relayed the story to more coworkers the next day........

#40...Let's Catch Up! Thank You!

Today I celebrate the return of my little Netbook computer.  The little monster kept displaying an error message whenever I turned it on saying 'Insert Boot Disc'.  I'll remind you that on a Netbook there is no boot disc and nothing to insert it into.  Well, after a call to customer service and a $30 recovery vacation via UPS to Texas, Little Acer is back home with a new hard drive. The homecoming was actually two days ago, but it has taken me two days of error messages and security certificate warnings for every website I tried to enter to discover that the date on the computer was set to January 9, 2009.  The date has been changed and I'm Baa-aaccckkk!

*************************************************************************************

It's been two and a half months since my Mother passed away.  It seems like two and a half years.  Awhile back, I related a story that still brings me goosebumps about no one wanting her dining room China cabinet for various reasons.  I had to accept the fact that it would most likely have to be taken to a landfill.  I was sitting in the audience of my son's play, and told Jackie's cousin, who was sitting next to me, about the dilemna.  Before long, a woman who owns a thrift shop in Oxford, PA tapped me on the shoulder and said that she accepts donations of furniture and can arrange to have it picked up, which she did.  Last Monday, I took my son Brian to an audition at a college just over the Maryland border, around 35 minutes from home.  We needed to travel through Oxford to get to the audition site, and the name of the thrift shop caught my eye as we drove.  I glanced in the window from the car, and right there in perfect view was Mom's furniture, prominently displayed and looking beautiful.  Moments of sadness come occasionally when I am reminded that she is no longer here, and this was certainly one of those moments.  This, however, was a moment of mixed emotions.  Along with the sadness and the desire to buy the piece of furniture back was a sense of  poignancy and contentment.  The sale of this piece of furniture would bring a pair of shoes or a coat to someone in need in the local community, and until it is sold, it will regally stand in the wings until it is called to help.....just like it's original owner.  All in all, this was another healing discovery in this time of loss.

************************************************************************************

My senior moments haven't waned at all.  This week I was carless...no, not careless...car-less!  My son Kevin was in the area to do his PA Air National Guard duty in Harrisburg and needed transportation.  There went one car.  Jackie took advantage of a richly deserved opportunity to take a course in Crystal Reports Design in King of Prussia.  There went the other car.  Fortunately, a coworker of mine lives two blocks away and was able to provide transportation this week.  She asked me to remind her each morning to pick me up, so here's the text I sent to her every morning:

Textin' just to say wazzup?...dooda....dooda.

Don't forget to pick me up!...all the dooda day.

      Forgettin's okay

      For at home I'll stay

Unless you come and pick me up...all the dooda day.

On the first day I sent the text, I had been cleaning up the dirty dishes in the kitchen, organizing and scanning old photos taken from my mother's house, drinking coffee, folding laundry...everything but getting ready for work.  I sent this text at 8:20 and my friend asked if 8:30 was okay for pickup.  I texted back saying, "Sure!"  Then I looked in the mirror.  I wasn't shaven, showered, dentally cleansed, and most importantly, my lunch wasn't made!  I began getting ready and I reminded myself of the old sitcom Bewitched when Samantha would twitch her nose and do all her tasks at lightning speed.  Believe it or not, I was ready and had a lunch packed by 8:30!  I did have to hobble to the car when she arrived because I hadn't had time to get the knot out of one of my shoelaces...but we were on our way........

On the last day, we went to her car and were getting ready to pull out of the parking space when I did the pocket check to see if my keys, wallet, and cellphone were present and accounted for.  The cellphone was missing.  I told my coworker that I must have left it home that morning.  She asked if I was sure and told me to go back into the school and check and see if it was there.  I refused saying that it must be home and I could live without it for a weekend if necessary.  She reluctantly agreed and pulled out of the parking lot and proceeded toward home.  We were about half way home when I heard my cellphone ringing.  It was definitely mine, after all no one else has a ringtone as nauseating as the one I have called 'Trip to Heaven'.  Anyway, I could hear my phone, but couldn't find it.  I checked my pockets, my lunch bag, under the seat...it sounded muffled as if I had swallowed it.  We couldn't stop laughing while I scrambled to find the phone. After it stopped ringing, I found that I had been sitting on it, and that it had probably been in my friend's car since that morning.  This whole incident speaks volumes.  My cellphone was in my coworker's car all day long, and I didn't even miss it...and...If I could do some of the dirtier tasks in life as quickly and easily as I can write ditties, I'd be an organized, relaxed, self-assured person.  Thank God for the laughs!

************************************************************************************

Today I am posting my 40th entry in my blog.   It has been my therapy and my joy to get my thoughts on paper....I mean on Blogger.  I have shared the happy and sad milestones as well as some everyday observations.  Many have shared that the blog has made them laugh, or cry, or think about similar happenings in their own lives, or just have a good time reading.  To those that have read, I thank you.  It is my motivation for continuing to experience and write...and even when the experiencing isn't pleasant, the writing is always positive.  Until #41, my love and thanks to all.................

Anxiety

Our son John didn't care about getting his driver's license at age 16...or in college.  At 23, however, he had a girlfriend residing across the state near where he went to school in Indiana, Pennsylvania.  He got his permit in the summer of 2010, but went back to school for his last year without a license. He graduated from college in May of 2011.  He came home and wanted his license STAT.  You see, his girlfriend and he wanted to start a new life together. So, he renewed his expired permit, and by the end of June he was a licensed driver.  The couple found an apartment in Harrisburg so that she could finish her schooling and he could pursue a job search.  To move both of them to Harrisburg, John - who had only been driving for six weeks - rented a U-Haul truck and a gigantic trailer to attach to his girlfriend's car.  He drove the truck, with his girlfriend's belongings inside, and the car and trailer attached, across the state to Harrisburg, unhitched the car, and unloaded all the stuff.  Did I mention that he was a new driver? He drove the truck to our house, which was an hour and a half from Harrisburg, to get his stuff, and then drove back to unload his belongings into his new home.  If I had been informed of all of this, I would have broken into a sweat, felt my throat close, and felt my body shaking with my mind racing. In a few moments, would have reluctantly conversed with him, marveled at his courage to take on such a difficult job, and moved on to the next source of anxiety.   I knew he was renting the truck, but didn't know about the attached vehicle until after he was on the road.   My son, a novice driver, on the Pennsylvania Turnpike driving a UHaul truck with a car attached to the back.  I thought I handled it well when Jackie told me.  I said, "WHAT?!  IS HE CRAZY??"  Now, instead of several moments of nausea, I had a whole day!  Did I mention that there was a CAR attached to the UHaul truck?  In hindsight, if I was a 24 year old young guy in love, I would have handled it the same way he did.......NOT!!!!  If I was a 24 year old guy in love, she would live in a neighboring town!  Fortunately, John doesn't feel the same way.  John took an adventure and tackled it head-on, and I am proud.  I hope I don't find out about the next adventure, though, until it's in the past........

                  

CH-CH-CHANGES............

Today, the humbugs of the hurricane are over. The electricity and phone are restored. The new school year begins with a two hour delay in  my school district due to storm difficulties, but it begins nonetheless. It is a monumental beginning in this family. Since the end of the last school year, all of the children have had major changes in their lives, and of course we have too.  Kevin is now in upstate New York, John is in Harrisburg, and Karen is teaching in a Camden charter school and living in Philadelphia....but the big story on Action News is the addition of Brian to the graduation wall.  Today I begin the final of 22 years as a school-age parent.  The final search for a fitting college, the final high school commencement, and the start of the dreaded empty nest syndrome.  Lots of adjectives to describe how I feel today:  Happy that I have this graduation wall, melancholy that time passes so quickly, proud of my children's accomplishments, disappointed in mine,  lucky for what I have, content with what I don't. All in all it's a great life, and I'm ready for this new chapter! 

My Love-Hate Relationship With Computers...Phase 2...Shipping

By now I hope you know that I am a little frustrated because my netbook computer needs to be sent to Texas to be reformatted.  To refresh your memory, when I turn the thing on, it tells me to insert a boot disc and press enter.  I don't have a boot disc, and there is no place for inserting such a thing.   I won't divulge the name of the manufacturer (Acer), but I was told to ship the item using UPS or Fed Ex, not the US Postal Service.  Well, If I was going to keep a log of the cost and aggravation of fixing this thing to see if it's worth the trouble and expense, here's what today's entry would look like:  Today I went to the UPS store about two miles from home.  I had the computer in a little box that was an appropriate size, but not compatible with regulations regarding the logos and such on the outside of the box.  Okay, I had to have them package it for me.  The computer manufacturer, which will still remain nameless (Acer), recommended insurance for the item.  There's a fuel surcharge.  Of course, there's always sales tax.  This cheapskate...um...frugal guy can't handle it.  The end result...UPS can have it in Texas at the repair center of the manufacturer (Acer) by next Wednesday, and it only cost me $30.20 .  I hope Hurricane Irene doesn't swoop down and alter its path while it's on its way to Texas.  When I get the machine back, it will be as if it was just taken out of the box for the first time.  All I can say is, "Thank goodness for my external hard drive!"  Who knows?...Maybe after they're done inserting the boot disc and doing whatever it is they do after it's inserted, they won't charge me to return the computer to me, and all will be well. We'll wait and see!

My Love-Hate Relationship With Computers........

My six month old netbook computer can't be booted up.  It says I need to insert something into the drive and do something else.  I have nothing to insert and it has no place to insert anything and I don't know how to do anything else!!  I called the tech department of the manufacturer.  Now I have to send it to Texas for someone else to insert whatever it is that I don't have into the place to insert things because they know how to do stuff.  The computer's still under warranty, thank Goodness.  Fortunately, I remember all the passwords to get into the works of the computer.  If I didn't remember them, I'd have to cough up $100 for the powers that be at that danged manufacturer to reset them.  Now I'll have to go back to waking up an hour earlier than everyone else just to compete for computer time and say hi to my Words With Friends cohorts.  I'll be only skimming email and Facebook.  I'll have to keep any blogging ideas in my brain just a little longer.  Oh, yeah, that'll work!!  I can't even remember what I've written in this blog! By the time the dang computer comes back, I'll have forgotten that I even had a computer...and a blog...and Facebook.  I wonder if the earthquake of August 23rd had something to do with this!! 

Yesterday and Today

     There have been so many good moments this summer.  Just last week, we spent three glorious days at the beach.  The weather couldn’t have been more perfect:  sunny and breezy with low humidity by day and brisk and calm by night.  It was the first time in decades I spent five hours at one time on the sand.   I had my Sudoku puzzles in hand and my IPod dock shuffling all my favorite songs.   At dinnertime there was good food and there was always good company. 

     During the last week in July, my son Brian got to show off his stage presence once again with a comedic role in Thoroughly Modern Millie.  He has also begun voice and piano lessons and is constantly roaming the house demonstrating the new techniques he has learned…because he’s good and because he can!

     The three older children each took a step further with their independence and have moved to new locations with new challenges and adventures.  We are proud, worried, enjoying the quiet, missing the noise, enjoying the space vacated by ‘stuff’, missing the space taken up by their bodies. 

     With each thought of what the summer has been comes an undeniable moment of melancholy.  It’s been two months this week since Mom passed on.  It seems like two years with all that had to be done and with yet another of my conversation buddies being gone.  With all the melancholy, though, stories to be shared and enjoyed come to the surface.  They make us laugh, cry,  get goose bumps, and are very therapeutic.  There were two stories that came to me today:  one from my childhood that is a family favorite and was, in fact, used in the sermon at Mom’s funeral, and the other from just a couple of weeks ago.  Yes, there are good feelings and smiles even in grief.

YESTERDAY……

     The first anecdote took place when I was around eight or nine.  I was a pretty good kid who didn’t get into too much mischief, and tried to please my parents whenever I could.  My way of getting under my Mother’s skin was by making noises.  I had quite a repertoire of sound effects and every one of them made her cringe.  Finally one night after dinner, Mom had enough of my annoying antics and said, “If you make one more noise, you’re gonna get it!”  I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but I did it anyway…I made one of the noises.  The next thing I knew, Mom was coming toward me to swat me, so I took off.  I ran around the living room and dining room and up the stairs to my bedroom, with Mom chasing me every step of the way!  I was screaming at this point.  My three sisters were scared to death, and were sure I was getting smacked silly.  My room was dark and I jumped on my bed screaming my head off.  Mom entered the room and flicked the light switch, but the light was turned off from the lamp and wouldn’t go on.  She started swinging at me in the dark, and I continued to scream.  My sisters were sure I wasn’t going to make it through this one.  Before long, I was screaming and Mom began laughing.  Soon I began to laugh.  The girls were still scared because the laughter from upstairs sounded similar to the screaming.  When we had finally stopped laughing and went downstairs and joined Dad and the girls, they were kind of angry that they had worried so much about my safety, only to find Mom and I exhausted from laughter.  I’m lucky they didn’t swat me at that point!  The story still makes me giggle and smile, and made the congregation at the funeral do the same.

TODAY……..

     Emptying Mom’s apartment has been a difficult task, as anyone who has had to go through a deceased loved one’s belongings will attest to.  The hardest part was finding new homes for her furniture.  My surviving sisters and I have all been married for quite some time and have our houses furnished for the most part.  The grandchildren took most of it, and some of it was donated to charity.  There was just one piece of furniture without a taker in the end…my mother’s china closet.  It was quite beautiful and in top condition, so I figured I’d be able to get someone to take it.  It was much too bulky for me to take to a charity drop off site, so I began to call used furniture stores, auctioneers, charities, consignment shops, and even salvage shops.  The piece was either too old, too new, too heavy…or the places didn’t pick up furniture or had several breakfronts and had no room for any more.  The place where Mom lived would take the furniture and dispose of it for a fee.  I was reluctantly getting ready to settle for this option as our end of the month deadline was a day away.  It was a Saturday night, and I was going to see Thoroughly Modern Millie, and the contents of the apartment had been absorbed by their new owners, but alas, what remained was the china cabinet.  I was sitting next to Jackie’s cousin at the show and telling her how I hated to throw such a beautiful piece out, but had no choice.  I told her of all the attempts I made to give it away to no avail.  With that, a woman sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I own a thrift shop and we have a guy that picks up furniture, and we take dining room furniture!”  Within a couple of days the piece had a new home and its sale would raise funds for the underprivileged in the community the store was in. 

     Some call incidents like this one coincidence, and some call them divine intervention. I have always had a difficult time believing what I could not see, but I truly believe at this point that the part of Mom that remains in our souls is definitely intervening.

     After my Dad and my sister Janet passed away, Mom would call me and tell me she found a dime, and then call again and tell me she found another one, and another one, and another one.  She took it as a symbol that her loved ones were with her in spirit.  I listened.  I wanted it to be true, but I couldn’t see it, so I had my doubts.  I supported her desire to believe it was more than coincidence because she was so at peace with it and content when she talked about it.  Now that she’s gone, I’ve been finding dimes…in the back of a U-Haul truck that my daughter Karen rented, on the car seat when I am about to sit in my seat, on the floor in the basement, in the dryer, on the ground.  The fact that I am finding coins is insignificant.  The irony that they always seem to be dimes at this point is giving me that same peaceful safe feeling my Mother would have when she shared her discovery. 

     I accept having to carry on without my parents and sister, for I have so much to be thankful for, but I hate the fact that they’re gone.  It seems like something will always be triggering those melancholy moments, but I am thankful for little signs like dimes in my path and the furniture rescuers to bring back the peace and contentment………

COFF IT UP!

Just an everyday observation:  I am making the coffee and I am coming to the end of the can, working my hardest to scrape those grounds into that coffee scoop.  I have come to the day when the can will be empty and it will be time to open a new one.  As if the shrinking can size over the last couple of years isn't enough, there is a rim around the top of the can.  Being as cheap...um...frugal as I am, I don't waste one ground, so I hold and gently shake the can to get the last grounds into the filter...and the countertop...and the sink...and the floor....etc.  Is a rim that wide really necessary?  I think that the powers that be just want me to start that new smaller can of coffee sooner!!  Agree?  Disagree?

GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT.....

See this car? It’s a 1959 Chevrolet Impala. As a child, I was enamored by its unique tail fins and teardrop shaped tail lights and front turn signals, as well as the long sleek body with the metal stripe on the side. A car in the late 1950’s would have been released in September of the year before the year of the car, so a 1959 Chevy would have come to be in September of 1958. I was just a year and a half old then, and don’t remember that time in my life. I do, however, remember the early '60's, and having the Matchbox miniature of my favorite automobile (the blue one on the bottom right of the picture on the left...huff...puff), and we were inseparable. ­

By the early sixties, the weekly Sunday car rides to my grandparents in Philadelphia became a scavenger hunt for '59 Chevies. I would begin counting as we left the street we lived on, and by the time we arrived in South Philadelphia some 25 minutes later, at least a hundred of these beauties came into view. I would play with the Matchbox version for hours in a day, and never grow tired of it.

I'm going to bring my Mom into yet another of my stories.  I hope you never get tired of hearing of her antics, because I never get tired of relaying them.  You see, Mom was cheap...uh...frugal like me.  Let me rephrase that...Mom made me look like the last of the big spenders!  She was so thrifty that the grocery stores paid her to shop in their stores.  She shopped the buy one-get one free sales all the time, and had a coupon which could be doubled, and if it was Wednesday she could get her senior citizen's discount on top of that.  You could never, no matter how hard you tried, get a better price on anything than Josephine could...and I say that with all due love and respect.

So, I went into a local department store whose prices are out of my range.  My wife Jackie and I went into the store about a month ago and I came upon this shirt with a '59 Chevy that I wanted so badly (See the second picture).  It had several other classic cars, but the ol' '59 was right on the front and in the center.  I looked at the price tag and then walked away with my head hung low, just like I would if I couldn't get a new Matchbox car at the store when I was a boy.  It was a crime that a tee shirt, even one with a '59 Chevy on it, would cost $26.00!

I think what followed was a gift from Josephine....

Early this week, a $10.00 gift card arrived from the store that sold the tee shirt.  We needed to go to the shopping center for something else, so I decided to stop in and look into seeing if their were any bargains to be found.  Lo and behold, the tee shirt I liked so much was on sale for $14.99!  I had my $10.00 gift card with me, which reduced the cost to $4.99!  The icing on the cake was when I realized that it was Tuesday, and the store in question gave old codgers like me that are over 50 a special discount.  The result:  $3.99 for the $26.00 tee shirt.  Thanks to the department store in question...and more than that, thanks Mom.  You've both taught and treated me well!!

My Garden.............

It's been a bad year for gardening.  In May, the spring flowers illuminated the garden in the front of my house.  The beast called winter was a distant memory.  Where there was once snow, there was now color and life.  From May 31st, 2011 until today, the weeding, planting of annual flowers, and creating hanging baskets justifiably were placed on the back burner as my family and I cared for, said goodbye to, and paid homage to our Matriarch.  I was out bright and early on this gorgeous August morning and began picking weeds and cropping dead stalks from the perennials that had finished their cycles for this year.  Upon that clearing, I came upon this stone, which has been in the garden for years.  It signifies everything I am feeling today.  Mom loved going outside and weeding her garden while she was still living in the old house.  When she came to my house, she admired the lilies, the lamb's ear, the azaleas, and all that provided the color explosion.  Then this stone would come into view, and no matter how many times she saw it, she laughed out loud.  I think it brought her more joy than the flowers!  It brought me joy and did a little more to help me put things into perspective today.  I hope it brings a smile to your face as well.......have a great day!

Senior Moments

Ah, those senior moments!  I’m not a senior yet.  Depending on one’s point of view, I’m not even close.  If one is from the old school opinion that one is a senior at 65, then I’m way far away from being one.  If one thinks that 55 is a senior, then I’d better slow down or I’ll crash! Lately, I’ve been thinking that I’m closer to being a senior than my age and stamina would reveal...

******************************************************

One morning last year, our cars were parked in the driveway, one behind the other.  Jackie and I were leaving for work at the same time that day.  We got in our respective vehicles, with mine being in the front and hers being in the rear. Both cars were warming up nicely, and I was groovin’ with the sound of the Oldies.  When the car was warmed up and the windshield was clear, I began to back up, still groovin’.  Fortunately, I was not going fast because I hit Jackie’s car and scared the wits out of both of us.  We laugh now, but it does not put one’s wife in a good mood when her husband hits her car with her in it, in their own driveway...

********************************************************************

This past holiday season, the adults in the school in which I work delivered donated foods to needy families in the vicinity.  My coworker and I set out with our food and had two deliveries to make.  Suddenly we realized we had forgotten our directions, so she went in to the building to retrieve them.  Upon her return, she realized that she had forgotten some Christmas goodies that we wanted to deliver to another coworker who could not be in school at that time.  I said I would go in this time and get the bag of goodies.  I went into the building and sometime between getting through the door and getting to the classroom, that bag of gifts became the directions again in my brain.   I looked and looked for around five minutes for them, then gave up and went back out to the car, telling my workmate that I couldn’t find the directions.  “You goober!” she exclaimed unkindly.  “You weren’t looking for the directions. You were looking for the gift bag!  I’ll go back in and get it.” I said, “Okay, I’ll drive you to the entrance.”  We proceeded to a student drop off area that had a sign that said ONE WAY.  I said, “OOH, I can’t go here, it’s one way!” and proceeded to drive around the parking lot.  My coworker said, “Yes you can go there, you goober, you’re going one way, but you’re going the right way!”  I shamefacedly parked in front of the door, feeling quite inept. She went in and got the bag, and we were finally on our way. We made the gift bag delivery, and proceeded to the first house, which was supposed to be near a library that we were both familiar with.  We drove around that whole town before we realized that the library had moved from where we remembered it being.  Finally, we found the library and the first house.  We entered a foyer at the top of a set of steps, and rang doorbells for unmarked doors and got no answer.  We went down the set of steps and looked at the directions again, and realized that the word BASEMENT  was part of the address.  What was supposed to take six minutes, according to the directions, took 45. Fortunately, though, the instructions said it would only take us three minutes to find the second house. It took us ten. We were indeed getting better at this. My coworker laughs too hard  every time she tries to tell the story... 

**************************************************************** 

Recently, Jackie and I became the proud owners of a car with a remote control set of keys.  Not only does it have buttons to unlock the doors, but there is also a button that will open the trunk!  Several times in the last few months, I have gone outside and started the car and a light came on telling me that the trunk was open.  Now I know that I didn’t open the trunk.  It could not ever be that I pushed the button by mistake when I took the key off the key rack...AND I WASN’T THE ONE WHO MADE THE CAR ALARM GO OFF FROM THE KEY RACK EITHER!  It was pretty embarrassing to hear a car alarm and say with a chuckle, “Some idiot must have set off his car alarm by mistake, laugh laugh!” only to realize that it was my car making the noise...
  **********************************************  

A few weeks ago, I was entering the retirement facility where my mother lived, and boarded the elevator to go to the second floor.  Before too long I was reading the calendar of activities posted on the elevator wall.  Suddenly it was growing warmer and stuffier in there.  When would I be at my destination and begin to feel better?  Why did the door stay shut when the elevator stopped moving?  SOMEONE FORGOT TO PUSH THE BUTTON FOR THE SECOND FLOOR!  That elevator didn’t even get off the ground!

Later the same day, I had gone to the car and was returning to the elevator.   Once I was in, I again began to read the calendar beginning where I left off.  Suddenly I began to feel claustrophobic and hot in the elevator just like before.  Once again, the door of the elevator was shut and it wasn’t moving.  SOMEONE FORGOT TO PUSH THE BUTTON FOR THE SECOND FLOOR AGAIN!

****************************************************************

I’m one to constantly check my pockets to be sure my wallet, keys, comb, and cellphone are there when I need them.  Throughout my Mother’s illness, I became something I never wanted to be or even thought I’d be...a cellphone user!  I cannot even keep track of the number of times I was talking on my cellphone to my family members and did my usual pocket check, and went into panic mode thinking my cellphone was missing.  After a few moments of rechecking my pockets and circling the room looking for it, the mystery was solved.  IT WAS ATTACHED TO MY EAR!  Usually I laughed it off with whomever I was talking to at the time, but by about the third time, I began to worry.

******************************************************************

I remember the past few summers when my son Brian was performing at a theater that was too far away to drive him to and come back home. So I’d keep myself busy for the three hours of rehearsals. This was before my high fiber and low fat diet, so every night I'd get two hamburgers, small fries and small drink from McDonalds, and pay $4.01.  One night, for some reason, the total came to $3.48.  It was less than usual, so I didn't question it.  Then I got to my seat, looked at the receipt, and realized that the little bastard behind the counter charged me for a 'senior drink'.  What, you see someone with thinning white hair and you assume they are a senior.  I have a little more time left as a junior...the little no good bastard!

***************************************************************

 Today my daily routine began quite on schedule.  I took out the coffee and filters and began scooping and brewing.  I mixed the oatmeal with brown sugar, cinnamon, milk, blueberries, and a banana, and loaded and set the microwave.  Then, I played those couple of irresistible games of Word Scramble on Facebook. When I lost...um...got tired of Word Scramble I scurried my hungry little stomach over to the microwave and pulled out that beautiful mess, and then proceeded to pour my coffee.....but alas, there was no coffee. SOMEONE FORGOT TO PUT THE WATER IN THE COFFEE POT!

****************************************************************

My wife worries about me.  She’s said many times that she expects to find the car keys in the refrigerator any day now, just like on the commercial.  I figure that if I can remember the incidents, retell them, feel bad about them, and laugh about them, then I’m still okay.  As long as my senior moments don’t hurt me or anyone else (though some have come close) and result in a laugh (in most cases), then I can learn from them. Maybe it’s the result of an overloaded mind, or a mind that’s not loaded enough, but having senior moments means that I’m still kickin’ and ready for more!  Ah, those senior moments!