Sunday, December 26, 2010

Christmas morning I was walking to Sabra's house to see the boys opening presents. The sky was spectacular! Pinks in every shade, shimmering whites mixing in, a panorama of color and light. Entering Sabra's house I said, "You have got to see the sky..Granpa Bunny outdid himself." One of Maria's favorite Golden Books was Grandpa Bunny, about an old rabbit that showed the children how to paint Easter eggs. When he died, the children missed him, but everynow and then the sky would be lit up brilliantly and the children knew that Granpa Bunny did that for them. That's how I felt yesterday morning - that sky was a gift to us.

Then in the afternoon the family came for turkey dinner. Later, Regina was sitting in the rocker in the living room, when all of a sudden she said, "I just love Christmas", another gift for me. Merry Christmas everybody.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Two Ciancanelli Christmas family stories. The first one is Santa Mouse. When the kids were little we used to take them to Stickles' store in Rhinebeck to buy their presents for the family. Each was given $10 and they would roam the store, seeking just the right gifts for their family and maybe a friend or two. One year Sabra brought herself a gift, a little mouse dressed like Santa. After shopping we went to Foster's to celebrate with lunch.

When we got home and opened the bags, no where was Santa Mouse to be found, it must have fallen out of the package in our travels. Sabra cried and I promised to go back to Rhinebeck and get another mouse as soon as possible. Well, it snowed for the next several days, and when we got to Stickles, there was no Santa Mouse left. I tried to talk her into another decoration, but she wanted Santa Mouse. "Let's go to Foster's for lunch," I said, trying to cheer her up, but she just gave me the "face", still off we went to Foster's. Crossing the street, I glanced in the gutter in front of the restaurant and something red caught my eye. I bent down, and sure enough, it was Santa Mouse, flattened from being run over and parked on, all wet from the snow. But Sabra was in heaven - I promised to dry him out and maybe I could make him a new coat, and I did. He still was flat, and certainly looked as if he been through what he had been through, but he was hung proudly on the Christmas tree, not only that year, but every year after that...The Santa Mouse miracle - found after all those days and how you can get what you want if you want it badly enough and believe.

The second story is Christmas Party at school. Paul was probably in first grade when the note came home that there was to be a party and each boy should buy a boy gift and each girl a girl gift to exchange on that day. The note indicated that the gift should be under $2. So Paul and I looked through Stickles, I being very careful to make sure the gift was close to $2 and finally settling on something that was $1.99. Proudly, I felt, that is as close as you can get under the limit. We wrapped it, labeled it "boy" and Paul took it to school on the last day before Christmas. I wondered if the boy who got the gift would like it, appreciate my generousity, going right to the limit. When Paul got home, I eagerly asked to see what he had received. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beat up, worn matchbox car. "Is that it?" I asked disgusted that someone would wrap up something so old and scratched. "Yes,"he answered happily, "Jimmy gave it to me. It was his FAVORITE toy." I was taken aback. Boy, was my face red. Those little first graders had a better understanding of Christmas than I had. I wiped a tear, and told Paul that Jimmy was right, that is the BEST toy anyone can get. And like the grinch, I think my heart grew three sizes that day.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Christmas shopping - with these knees I can only do one or two stores at a time. Years back with the three older kids in school, I would put Sabra in the car and start off for Kingston to do as many stores as possible. Sabra was a squealer though, had a great memory, and would tell her sisters and brother about my purchases, so I had to go prepared.

We had a game then, "Beat the Clock", also a TV show, in which you had to do stunts while the clock ticked off...probably a lot like "winitinaminute", or whatever that show on TV is now. Anyway, part of the game was a blindfold that the person would use and try to do some stunt, like pile blocks or something. I would bring along to the store the blindfold, and get Sabra settled in the cart and then put the blindfold on her eyes. I would be putting games and toys in the cart, carefully covering them with my coat, in case she peeked. But she never peeked. I think the kid liked the game herself, and would keep up a coversation, "How much longer?" "I'm hungry, can we get something to eat?" Other shoppers smiled at us. She did look cute, a little kid blindfolded talking all the while I filled the cart. What a clever idea they seemed to think, as we proceeded to the checkout counter.

We would end up at Britts, a really nice store that was as close to Macy's as we had in Kingston at that time. Very nice clothes, a good fabric department (I was sewing then) and best of all a restaurant...not like you find in Sam's Club or Target - frozen pizza and three day old hot dogs, but a real restaurant, with soups and sandwiches, small pots of tea. I would get a soup and chicken salad, and Sabra would get a grilled cheese sandwich, with chips and a pickle. "Now this lunch is our little secret", I would whisper to her and she would nod agreeably. But then when the bus dropped off the older kids that afternoon, the first thing out of her mouth was "MOM AND I ATE OUT". Thank God for that blindfold I would think.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Moving Day 1967, 43 years ago today we moved to Tivoli - weather wise it was a day much like today, clear but cold. The excitement had been building for weeks, as I packed the boxes for the trip, labeling each - Kids' clothes, kids' toys, Linda's clothes, etc. The boxes were lined up in the downstairs hall, waiting for the big day. We were leaving 66 Beacon Street, home since before Maria was born. We lived in an upstairs apartment, one apartment on each side of the hall, the same downstairs four in all. The downstairs hall had boxes from the floor to the ceiling by the time moving day arrived.

Sunday after Thanksgiving was the day, not sure of the date, but this is the day I celebrate. We had rented a moving truck, with an automatic lifter on the back, for the refrigerator and other large pieces of furniture. Bill Olah entertained the kids by riding up and down several times, making appropriate, or inappropriate noises. Maria was 5, leaving her first school, Laura was 3 and Paul was only 2. I was to drive them in the station wagon, which was loaded up also and had a canoe tied to the top. This was to be my longest drive ever since I had only received my driving license the summer before.

We set off, a small caravan, me in the car with the kids, Bill in his car, and Joel driving the van. I think I warned the kids to be really quiet, they were probably sitting in the back seat, although Maria might have been up front with me...no carseats, seatbelts or airbags to worry about in 1967. The drive seemed forever, just over an hour, but I was glad to see the turn for Clay Hill Road, and into the driveway we came.

Jane, Bill's wife, was waiting for us and everyone explored the house up and down, easy to do, it was two rooms and a bath downstairs, and one big bedroom, one tiny bedroom and regular size bedroom upstairs. Jane had brought sandwiches and we sat on the kitchen floor eating them, with the heat blowing on us from the radiator. I don't remember the unpacking, all the work of moving. I do remember later that afternoon, with no curtains on the windows yet, we watched our neighbors decorating a large cedar tree in the front of their house for Christmas. They had a boy a little older than Maria, and two teenage girls, "babysitters" I thought. They argued about the placement of the lights, not enough green, or yellow, etc. But it felt right, sitting in that open living room, my first home with my family, as excited and happy as my kids. I still love it.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Today would have been my neighbor Angelo's 84th birthday. Angelo was the kind of man you wanted for a neighbor. We shared a lot of good times, good laughs, and I still consider him one of my best friends. This time of year especially brings back the memories because Angelo and I celebrated Halloween every year - each trying to trick the other, each getting into outlandish outfits or situations to do so.

There would be a loud knock at the door, and there would be Angelo, dressed in women's clothes, or dressed like a bum. He always disguised his face with a veil, or a hat drawn way down, so I never was quite sure if it was him at first. One time he came in dressed in heavy clothes, disguishing his body, and wearing big old fashioned galoshes. He never talked, didn't want to give away his identify with his easily recognizable voice. So, he handed me a note. On it was written, "AFRAID OF AIDS, WEAR RUBBERS". Now, I got a little worried, what if it wasn't Angelo but some demented Halloween killer I had just let into the house? He went right into the living room which was lit only with a candle near the bowl full of candy and started to empty all the candy in his bag. But he didn't know that we had an extra prop in the room. From behind the curtains came Timmy's loud and stern voice "TAKE JUST ONE" and Angelo fell back into a chair, holding his heart. We all had a good laugh at that.

Once I dressed up like a pirate, full pirate mask on my face. I had Timmy drive me down the street, so Angelo wouldn't see me cross Clay Hill to his house. He didn't recognize me, I think he had been looking out of his window to see when I would leave the house, so the entrance from down the road confused him ...and I got him good.

My kids all loved Angelo. Laura would picture her ideal parents as being my sister Maureen for her mother and Angelo for her father. When Maria lived in the Bird's Nest she and Angelo would meet at the mail boxes, right after the mail delivery. They kidded each other about how important their job was, getting the mail. Paul spent time with Angelo in the back shed, looking at his collections. Angelo collected hub caps, which he sold to people seeing his sign on 9G. One time a nun bought a hub cap from him and he put it on her car. I always wished I had a picture of that nun in her full habit and Angelo on his knees, putting on the hub cap. One time our guests in the Bird's Nest said to me, "We saw the most wonderful thing today." I thought they meant a bird, or deer in the yard, but they had wandered across the street and Angelo had given them a tour of his hub cap collection. They were from England and thought this was grand.

Angelo was a little hard of hearing, so often instead of yelling to each other across the street, we would pantomine a discussion. I would look up at the sky, raise my hands , like what is it going to do today? And Angelo, would pretend to put up an umbrella, or break into a big smile, arms out like he was sunbathing.

Oh, we had good times, right up to the end. I would go stay with him from seven in the morning until his nurse arrived around eight. We were alone for that time, and he could be open with me about his illness, which he always tried to keep from his children. One morning he looked at me and just said simply, "I'm going to miss you." For a moment, I was thrown. It sounded like I was the one going away, and then I understood what he meant. "'l'll miss you too, Angelo," I answered, and then we went on to another subject. And I do, especially at Halloween.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Back from Oysterfest, six days at Wellfleet. Years ago, probably at least 6 now, one day Ria and I took Ava and Regina to Duck Harbor during our summer vacation. The girls were in a bad mood and they kept fighting and bickering, until Maria couldn't stand it anymore and drew a line down the sand. "Here," she said, "Regina, you stay on this side of the line and Ava, you stay on the other side." The kids mumbled, but obeyed, each going on their side of the line drawn in the sand. Regina went off a ways, but Ava stayed near the line, bending down into a huddle. She picked up a stick and was making marks in the sand. Curious, I went over to see what she was doing, and saw that she had written in the sand, "I miss my hole family". Now I thought this was pretty spectacular, the kid was only five, and the only mistake was the hole for the whole. I showed Ria and we discussed it, because Ava was there without the family she lived with...she probably did miss the hole. And that's how I was feeling this past week, like I was missing my hole family.

Oh, Timmy was there with me, we did crossword puzzles, sat in the sun, ate at the Lobster Pot, but something, just something was missing. I know it was my family. Maria always came out with Regina, and Laura, Michael and Atticus had made it out too. My nephew John and his family would visit for a day, but this year there was no family. Even at the Oysterfest, something was off...my friend Jackie and her husband would meet us there, but that ended when Jackie died two years ago, the summer after Maria.

My hole family...missing the W and then I thought a W is an upside M...M for Maria. This only made it worse, but things changed Sunday morning when I went to Mass. The church is almost brand new, Our Lady of Lourdes in Wellfleet. Entering, the first thing I saw was a giant seashell filled with holy water to dip ones fingers in. I sat down on the pew and then the next thing that caught my eye was the stained glass window over the altar...It was a W and a M combined. (Like in Mad, Mad World, I felt like I had discovered the "THE BIG W" that they were all looking for where the treasure was buried.] The W and the M.

I don't know what the symbol means, I couldn't find it on the internet..but it is definitely a W and an M interwoven, with a crown on top and flowers on either side. The W missing in Ava's sentence found the M that I was missing. It was wonderful and my outlook on life changed - I went back to the cottage and the yearly road race had started. I clapped as the runners went by and they all gave me big smiles, peace signs, yelled thanks, it was heartwarming. One woman went by and as I clapped she broke into a big smile and yelled "This is my first race", "You're doing great," I yelled back. I tell you seeing that M and W together was a dam breaker. The world seemed right.

Later, I told Timmy, maybe next year, if there is a next year, we will rent a really big house so my hole family can come out and join us. What do you think?

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Yesterday while leaving the Street Painting, Regina and I passed through the old Methodist Church yard. "Linny," she asked, "why do churches always have windows you can't see through?" My first response was "to keep the devil from looking in", but then I thought and said, "or to keep the people inside paying attention, and not looking out the windows." Today at Mass, the priest talked about stain glass windows (a coincidence that is occuring so often any more that I don't even question it).

The priest said that during the Renaissance, when churches were being built all over Europe, most of the parishioners could not read, so the windows became the story tellers of the Bible, of the life of Christ, etc. St. Sylvia's has the sacraments on the side walls. My usual seat is near confession...one half of the window shows Jesus forgiving sins, the other half of the window shows a man in a confessional booth with a priest. I don't know if they even do that now, go into the confessional. You used to go behind a curtain, waiting your turn, making sure the person ahead of you had left. The confessional booth had two sides, the priest sat in the middle with a little window he would open on one side, hear the confession, close it tightly (you could still hear the loud talkers) and open the other. That was a dramatic moment, the moment you heard the window open, the Latin words being spoken by the priest, and then "Bless me father, for I have sinned..." No turning back, but I bet many wished they could bolt out of that box.


My last confession was face to face and it had been so many years that the priest had to keep urging me on, "work with me Linda". I was shocked. Confession when I was a kid was one sided, your recital of everything bad you had done...you told the priest your sins..if you didn't give a number, or a vague number like "a few" he would stop - almost visibly hold up his hand, "how many is a few? More than five, more than ten?" pinpointing it down, while you wished you were anywhere but in that booth, with that man. Oh, it was an ordeal - confession. Something the kids today probably don't even know about. If they made that stain glass window of confession today, it would probably be a priest smiling, with little birds singing and rabbits jumping, like a scene from Snow White and the confessor wearing a big smile.

Laura did a Street Painting yesterday that looked like a stain glass window. It was of God creating the world and he is pictured with an instrument actually designing and measuring the details. Sabra and Tony did a woman being hugged by a bear, Regina did birds in a tree and I did the Guinness Toucan bird, with "A lovely day for a Guinness" above a colorful Toucan balancing a pint of beer on his beak. I wrote "For Margaret" on the bottom, because Margaret did this bird with me in 2002 in the Black Swan patio. She also did one of Regina and did the first one ever with me on Clay Hill Road of Mona Lisa Rabbit. Margaret was a great artist and a great friend. Street Painting Day has so many memories of her, Maria, of all those years my family worked so hard with me on this event. Trish spoke with me yesterday, saying all that I put into that event, but I responded that I got so much more out of that day than I ever put into it. And I surprised myself because I really meant that.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

I've been going to church now for over a month. It's a long story as to how I got started again, at this time I'll just say that I'm enjoying the experience. Our church in Tivoli is St. Sylvia's. It is a lot different since the time I went with the kids back in the 70's and 80's. Oh, it's the same beautiful small church, and like so many churches has the feeling of another world, another country to it. Oh, the church is the same, but attendance is way down; today there were many 20 people at the most - all older, no kids at all. When I used to take the kids, the church was full, and there were all ages, and all sizes. Today I sat in the same pew as I did so many years ago with the kids. I remember how it was always a challenge then, to get everybody ready, in the car and seated in that pew for Mass.

And then, it was the challenge of keeping them behaved, not laughing, not wriggling or poking each other. That's when the term "the church face" was given to me, apparently my face turned into something completely abnormal, that demanded certain behavior to change. The kids would sneak in toys, anything to keep them amused. One time I looked over at Sabra and she had pulled Chatty Cathy out of her pocket and right before my cringing eyes, pulled the string way out. Now if you remember Chatty Cathy was a small doll that would talk when the string was pulled, saying things like "I want a hamburger" "I think I'm pretty", etc. I grabbed Cathy out of her hands before the string could start down. Holding the sting taunt, now I had to figure out what to do with it. I couldn't hold it the whole Mass....carefully, everytime the congregation would stand I would release a little string, the noisy standing covering most of Cathy's comment. It took careful concentration and I was sweating bullets while my kids were grinning from ear to ear at my dilemma. Finally, Cathy was quiet and put away in my purse. That's how church was then, nerve wracking.

Today was quiet, no church drama, not even much to look at. The sermon was about 9/11 and especially Father Judge, the Fire Department Chaplain who is listed as the first casualty of that event. The priest returned to his usual theme of you never know when you will be called, a common thread he has included every week for the last month and which always makes me think of Maria. Anyway, he quoted Father Judge as having said, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans for tomorrow." That's basically all I remember of the sermon, but that is plenty.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Twins, I have had twins on my mind for the past weeks. My neighbor has twin girls about six months old that she pushes up and down the street, trying to keep them cool in the summer heat. Then twin fawns appeared in our yard, orphans, that cried first, sad mournful sound, but soon they were just seen quietly nibbling on grass, way too young to survive without a mother's milk. But they did and they still are around. Then an invitation to my twin sisters' birthday this weekend. And most surprising, a book, a wonderful book that weaves the lives of twins in a gothic type plot, The Thirteenth Tale. Helene was reading this book at the lake two weeks ago, could hardly put it down. So I went to the library, and likewise "had my nose in it" (as Bucky would say) until I finished the more than 400 pages in three days. I used to do this all the time, but lately my reading, like my walking, has slowed down.

Twins. I was eight when my twin sisters were born, did not know my mother was pregnant, and my mother did not know she was having twins - a little like a gothic mystery. But my mother came home with two babies, two girls who at first wore bead bracelets "a" and "b". They were small, I don't remember the birth weights, but I do remember my mother relating a scene in which the nurse said to Doctor Supple, "You are not going to let these babies go home so soon, are you?" and as my mother proudly announced, he said "Betty is a good mother. They will be fine." So there we were with two new members of the family - Kathleen and Maureen. Twins.

I had never seen twins before. Two perfect babies that looked exactly alike. I have a picture somewhere of me holding them soon after, one in each arm with a very serious look on my face. When they grew older, I would push one in a carriage, and my girlfriend would take the other in a carriage and off we would go...probably only nine or ten years old ourselves. But twins are magic and everyone smiles, wants to know their names and of course always ask "are they identical"? which always seemed stupid because they looked exactly alike. Just a little difference in their smile, or the look in an eye. In photographs it was harder to tell, and we would go back and forth...that's Kathleen, no that's Maureen, Wait, I think it IS Maureen. No it's Kathleen.
Until finally we just said, who cares, it is the twins.

That's how it is with twins....they are individuals, but you tend to pair them, think of them in the same way. The Thirteenth Tale had an evil twin....we didn't have that. Kathleen was kind of a tomboy, wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. And Maureen cared more for dolls, once getting hurt from a doll. The arm had come off. In those days they were wired on and somehow the wire cut her mouth, tongue, something bad. That's the thing with twins, you had twice the responsibility, twice the nerve wracking care, but like the old tune used to go "double the pleasure, double the fun, with doublemint doublemint doublemint gum".

Twins. They run in families you know. Grandma Burky had twin sisters (or maybe brothers) she didn't know that until after Bucky had had her twins, having left Europe at an early age. They skip a generation, is the theory. If so, we are due for twins in this family any day now. Wouldn't that be great?

Saturday, August 21, 2010

This poor blog has been on a long dry run, end it today with my birthday. 68th birthday...what a ride. There used to be a tv show in the 50's called This is Your Life and Ralph Edwards would surprise a person, usually a celebrity, by reading from a big book a bio of their life, bringing in people from their past that they hadn't seen for years. Some of the surprised lifers would be less than happy to have their life paraded in front of them, but most seemed to enjoy it. 68 years - who would they bring out and what would they say?

I just had a email that there was a comment from Kathy L on facebook that said "happy birthday" - so that's one person they could bring out...tell about when we worked together at IBM, the escapade when we didn't get a raise, so we would come in a half an hour early and be "greeters". We would stand near the door, drinking a cup of coffee from the cafeteria and just say "Good Morning" to everyone, making overtime for no work. No one ever challenged us..I guess there was nothing in the Manager's Manual about greeters.

Then I got a birthday card from Timmy's sister Meg. Meg could come out and tell us about our fun in Florida...one New Year's Eve her husband Bob was playing in a band and they played a song with the line "with a girl named Lindy Lou" and I got up on a picnic table to dance. Now with these knees I have a hard time sitting at a picnic table.

Then there was my 60th birthday party at the Black Swan, with Shockwave, wearing an UPS uniform came to the door..."package for Linda Murphy, package for Linda Murphy". Maria had borrowed the uniform from a friend whose husband had worked for UPS. Shockwave had a boom box, plugged it in, and started to Shock Wave, dancing, throwing off the uniform, bobbing and weaving in front of me. My nephew John grabbed his three daughters to escape before Shockwave went too far, and Erin screamed all the way out, "But we haven't had cake yet, we need to have cake". Shockwave stopped at his Scooby Doo underwear, but he would be a good one to bring on stage.

Chrissy could tell about our adventures in Ireland, driving the little red rental car on the wrong side of the road. Once the car was too close to a stone wall, and a long scratch appeared, we used red nail polish to disguise it. Or the time in Provincetown when we were the only women in a restaurant. "Look Chrissy," I said pointing to a figure near the bar, "There's another woman."
Chrissy looked and answered, "Loggy, that's a man dressed like a woman."

68 years is a long time. I can remember when jet planes were something special, rattling the windows of the house, and we would run out to see the stream they left in the sky. Or go up to the old schoolyard to watch Sputnik make it's orbit over our house. The inventions - air conditioning, TV, video games, cell phones, span the years, as well as I Like Ike, the Nixons, the tragedies of the Kennedy boys, Bill Clinton's cigar and now Obama. Like I said, it's been a ride and I'm waiting for the next turn in the road.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Well, this is the fifth day back from vacation. It was a good one, weather-wise, family-wise, and fun-wise. I guess some of my favorite memories are just sitting on the beach, watching the tide coming in and going out and observing my family..all four generations (counting me) interacting.
Some of the memories are:

o The sand castle contest. Ava, Atticus, Shane, Regina, Zach and Ian each made their own and then explained and described it. Ava's won for its ecology, Shane for his humor (the stupid people made their homes outside of the castle wall), Regina most unusual (her castle was underground) and Atticus for most elaborate. Ian only used his hands, no shovel and Zach had a trench going several feet, the longest.

o Finding the skeleton. On a beach walk, Ava yelled to me "Linny, look at that" pointing to a large skeleton high on the rocks. Jer identified it as a seal or a dolphin and decided to take it home with him. He recovered it in the dark of night and rode home next to it in the back seat.

o The food. Kevin caught bluefish,bass and striper which Jer cooked for us...bluefish on a plank and leftover bass made into fish cakes. The fish cakes were voted the best of all. I made oysters Rockefeller, but couldn't find the spinach (we never did find out what happened to it), but they were a hit when I added cream cheese.

o The cocktail party. The girls came down the hill from Laura's cottage all dressed up, high heels, gorgeous outfits and eye makeup. Helene found a dress in the Wellfleet Thrift shop that was perfect and I wore a pantsuit that was about 20 years old. Atticus kept grabbing the pants part saying, "I can't believe they are pants". I guess she never saw anything like that. Maureen wore a black dress with a large moon necklace and Caitlin made Pina Coladas and Marquaritas.

o The refrigerator going up the stairs to Laura's cottage. The cottages were experiencing power surges and Laura's refrigerator died. When the handyman came to replace it, he was alone and started the long trek up many steps to the cottage. We were enjoying Happy Hour on the deck, watching the whole show. It was like the Laurel and Hardy when they have to move a piano up a hundred steps. He made it, then a while later had to come down with the old one. A little entertainment for us.

o Elf shoes. Gabby (Jer's girlfriend) came back from Provincetown with a pair of green elf shoes, with the front toes pointing up. You had to smile to see them.

o O'Leary visit. John and his family came, and had a surprise, my great neice Catlin with them. The seven girls sat in the house, eating, texting and being girls. Good looking bunch.

o The kids. Solomon and Henry in the water, laughing, Shane threatening his brother Zach, "If you touch this sand castle, I will put your face in the sand and stand on your head until you are dead." Pretty good threat that worked. My bedroom was over the back yard and one night I heard...Do you have the flashlight? Where's the shovel? OK. let's bury it. I think they were burying a broken pingpong paddle, but I will never know.

So that's it...I will probably think of a hundred more. That's what vacations are for, memories that pop in your head that make you smile.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

One of Bucky's favorite sayings was "after the Fourth of July the summer is over". It used to drive us nuts because summer was just starting, but I realize now there is some truth to that. The stores are already advertising back to school items. I read an article where a woman's father use to say on June 22, the first day of summer, "well, that's it, now it is going to get darker earlier everyday". Maybe parents just have to torment their kids.

But I do notice signs that summer is going fast. The baby birds are just about all grown up, the first batch anyway. You still see a few "baby Huey's" bigger than their parents flapping their wings, nosily screaming, waiting to be fed some of my sunflower seeds. And the squirrels are all fighting for a place at the feeders, little mean red squirrels and big gray squirrels, but no more babies. With no rain for days past the bird baths are getting a lot of use. I do love to see the chipmunks and the squirrels taking advantage of them and leaning way over to get a drink. So summer is moving ahead.

Next week we will be in Wellfleet. The whole family is going and we are whipping ourselves into a seaside mindset. Lobsters, oysters, clams, beach umbrellas, are all we talk about. "Don't forget to bring the games, some good knives, these houses never have a good knife, do you think four pounds of butter is enough? I mean we are getting into a frenzy. I myself think the oil spill has something to do with it. Spill is not quite the word, gush is better. The ocean as we know it is being attacked, under seige by our own greed for oil. Will that mess makes it way to Cape Cod? Will the kids be making sand castles that are black? Will the seagulls be dropping the clams on the stones, flying down and then going "yuck" and leaving them there? With that in mind we are acting like this might be our last time for the beach as we know it. Maybe it is. So Wellfleet here we come.

Friday, June 25, 2010

I was thinking about relationships the other day, what makes some work and others not. I saw Carl Reiner on a talk show and he and his wife Estelle (now deceased) were married for 64 years. He said that once she was asked what's the secret for a successful relationship and she answered, "You have to be able to stand the other person". Estelle was famous for one role in the movies, in her son's production of Harry Meets Sally, she had the line: "I'll have what she's having". Anyway, at first I thought she was setting the standard a little too low. Like he has to be able to use a fork (not even a knife). But when you think about it, it might just come down to that. You have to be able to stand the person to have the relationship go on and on.

My mother Bucky use to say "like finds like", but I lean more to "opposites attract". I met Mr. Haley 23 years ago. Maria, Jer and baby Rachael drove to Beacon to show Aunt Lillian and my mother the new baby. My brother came up from the cellar with this strange looking guy wearing overalls and my brother started apologizing right away. "I'm sorry about this, but he wanted to meet you" and that's how Harry Met Sally.

23 years is a long time (we've been engaged for 22 of them) and I think it's because he interests me in a strange way. Like his bathroom habit of playing boggle whenever he feels the need to go. He's done that for years and no one ever questions the boggle game next to the toilet. One year he measured the sun everyday, covering the floor with little yellow stickons and typing measurements methodically into the computer. He even measured the sun on our trip to Florida, which was quite exciting because the numbers are all different down there. One day in the summer he was measuring on the Bird's Nest deck to take advantage of as much sun as possible. A lady came to see the B&B, and as we passed him on the deck, with all the yellow stickons, I just explained "He's doing a scientific experiment". I don't think she ever came back.

We're alike in some ways, both like puzzles, crossword or suduku, and both like to sing. Sometimes we sing together, he is much better than I am, but singing together is always fun. Ironically, I sang a song with his Uncle John 52 years ago. He was my sister's best man at their wedding. We sang Down By the Old Mill Stream. It was fun because it goes: down by the old (and I would say 'old not the new but the old')and he would say where I first (and I would say 'first not the second but the first") met you (not me but you), dressed in gingham (not silk but giingham). Well I guess you get the idea. What we sometimes do is get the other person stuck on a song. It's really easy to do. First get a good tune. Yesterday I heard in Shop Rite, "Keep on Believin' by Journey, "she took the midnight train going anywhere'. Then you just sing it a few times and before you know it, you hear the other person humming or whistling or even saying the words to the song. Timmy is more the "Whip It" type, and me the "Zip A Dee Dooda" but it works with almost any tune.

So, I think Estelle was right. If you can just stand them, it can work out.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Today is a beautiful, almost summer day. The sky blue and sunny after more than three days of clouds and rain. Ria's grave was beautiful, the flowers really picking up now and some starting to bloom. I added flowers from Stop and Shop having brought scissors and water with me. I had to clean off the stone, it was covered with bird shit. A pair of mockingbirds were flying around. Ria's stone is one of the highest perches for them, and you can tell they like to use it to spot the next bug they will take to their babies. The date June 15, 1962 kept drawing my eyes. I remember it so well. It was a Friday morning, a little after 3am that she was born. An easy delivery but I was too excited to sleep much and starving when they brought me breakfast on a tray early in the morning. The tray held a card with a baby wearing a graduation cap that said class of 1980. I kept that for her baby book. The breakfast was hash, toast and two runny eggs. (One time in a diner the man in back of me ordered eggs "overeasy, no snot.") He would not have been happy with these. But I ate everything, wiping the plate with my toast. The orderly smiled at me as he picked up my finished tray. "Look at that", he kidded, "you ate the design right off the plate." I was anxious to see my baby. After delivery, they took the baby one way to the nursery, and sent me the other way, to my room. Finally, a nurse stuck her head in the door. "Do you want to see the most beautiful baby in the nursery?" she asked and brought in Maria. And she was beautiful, big, big eyes, rosy clear skin and a soft halo of red hair. I remember staring at her, watching her pulse bobbing in her "soft spot" thinking all kinds of thoughts.

The Soft Spot -that's what Bucky had explained to me when she brought home my baby brother and baby sisters. "That's their soft spot" and she pointed at the top of their head. "The fontanel," she added, impressing me with her knowledge. "Their skull is not quite formed yet. They need that soft spot to be born. But you can never touch them there.....their brains are covered with just that little bit of thin skin." I was horrified, but interested too. A soft spot.

At the grave today, I thought about that soft spot. Ria's death is kind of like that a soft spot that is tender, pulsing with memories. Proof of the love we all felt for her and the love she so generously gave to us. Happy Third Birthday in Heaven, Maria. Love, Ma

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

I spent the weekend at Laura's cabin in upstate New York with two of my grandchildren, Regina and Atticus. We left Friday morning - it's a four hour drive - and came back Monday afternoon, so that's what? about 72 hours all together. And what stands out from all that time is not the beauty of the lake, or the quiet uncomplicated life. Nope, it's the conversations with the kids.

One was the retelling of how Regina's father recently ordered Chinese food to be delivered to their house by taxicab. (Atticus was spending the weekend). Kevin couldn't use his truck, as they explained, because it was full of rhubard. Now, Laura and I had heard the story earlier and had wondered what was he doing with a truckload of rhubard, but had accepted it as certain, didn't even question it. After all, it is rhubard season right now. At the lake, we dug a little deeper, "What was your father doing with all that rhurbard?" "You, know" Regina explained, "he needs it for work." Now, Laura and I were really puzzled. Rhubard for work? "Yeah, well it sounds like rhubard"......Laura and I looked at each other and said it together....REBAR...they mean rebar, of course. It makes a lot more sense that a mason would have a truckload of rebar, but then maybe someone had too much rhubard so they gave it to him. Could happen.

Another conversation had Regina roaring in her seat. Atticus was telling about a boy in high school that came to school with a dead squirrel stapled to a Yankee baseball cap, the squirrel's tail flopping in the wind. Now, that's something you don't hear everyday. Then Regina told about her class seeing a movie called "Here Comes Puberty", the boys separate from the girls. Regina said the boys version only lasted a few minutes, but the girls was longer. One girl felt faint and had to go to the nurse to lay down. Then each girl got a "goodie bag" of supplies, which I guess they promptly opened. Regina said the item looked "like an old ladies diaper" and some more girls went down for the count.

That's always been the way with our family...the kids provide the most amusement. It started with Jer. He had been punished for using bad words, common swear type, so he invented words to call peole. He had "ash tray" which was good, "dog smell", even better, but my favorite was "air hole". Now that's original. I even used that at IBM, one guy really got to me and I called him an air hole, and he told his manager and his manager just looked at him like he was nuts. "What's an air hole?" he asked, like it might be a new scientific wonder.

Atticus had other names for people...her cousin Rachael was FooFee and Liz was Wren. Jer had named me Loggie Linds, which became Loggie, which became Linnie. More than one of them has called me Ninnie, with the L a harder letter to say. And it wasn't just words...sometimes they asked for strange things. One Christmas all Rachael wanted was "a monkey with clean hands". Maria had to search , but she found one with light pink palms - just what Rachael had wanted.

Recently, Henry discovered my hamper, a dark small closet under the stairs in the bathroom. Playing hide and seek, Solomon and Henry hid there. Henry renamed the hamper, the "Underwear Cellar", probably because it was dark like a cellar, and had dirty underwear in it.
Sabra said he now calls their cellar, the underwear cellar.

I can go back even further. One time Paul came home from school and looked annoyed. He said the teacher had asked them to name birds and he had said the "bra bird" and the teacher looked surprised and said she never heard of that one. It took me a while, but I figured it out. He meant tit mouse. When Maria's class was covering monies, Maria told the class she was going to bring in some money that her grandfather had from the war. So, she took it to class and presented it as "Peen" money. Again, the teacher was surprised, looked at the coins and corrected Ria, saying you mean "European". Maria never forgot that and every now and then would say how "we" embarrassed her by letting her go to school thinking it was Peen money.

Art Linkletter knew kids were funny, all you had to do was get them talking. The section of his show called "Kids say the darnest things" was one of my mother's favorite TV shows. The kids certainly had me entertained this weekend.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Today is Bard's graduation. We've been doing the Bird's Nest B&B for 15 years and we started with a Bard graduation. I remember it very well since it was the first and also we had guests from Viet Nam that did NOT want breakfast, they brought their own food. I remember Timmy and I cleaning the kitchen, smelling all the wonderful smells and wishing they had shared with us. Another Bard graduation guests I remember our parents and a grandmother. It was hot, very, very hot that day and when they returned the father's face was a beet red. A few minutes later the grandmother came down and asked for bug spray.."There were big black ants coming out in the heat". It took me a few minutes to find the spray, and when I went upstairs with it, the father was flat on the couch, air conditioner pointed at him. The grandmother grabbed the can of spray and started spraying everywhere. I didn't even see an ant, but she went into the bedrooms, bathroom and was going into the kitchen when I left. I thought the spray scent would kill the father, already weakened. Another graduation group were parents and grandparents, each arriving separately. The grandparents came first, driving a Cadillac with Florida plates. He didn't even get out of the car before he started complaining.."Terrible directions, just terrible" he scolded me. She handed me a suitcase to carry, although I wasn't much younger than her. We went up the stairs and entered the B&B. At this point, most people say, "Oh this is lovely", remark on all the room and the brightness and cheeriness. She just waved her arm over the freshly picked flowers on the table and said "Nice touch." They were the only people we ever had that didn't eat breakfast together. The grandparents ate at 8:30 and the parents at 9:00. It was surprising but certainly understandable.

My own Bard graduation sticks in my head because of Timmy and fireworks. We were all robed, marching to the graduation tent, when I passed Timmy, Maria and Jer and Timmy pointed to the front of his overalls and slightly exposed the contents - fireworks that I recognized as the "20 gun salute", a firework that shots rhymatically 20 times in a row. My heart sunk. There was exceptional security coverage because one of the speakers was a controversial figure from South America. We sat under the tent, everyone joyous, passing a bottle of champagne down the row, taking a swig and passing it on. I joined in, figuring I was going to see Timmy hauled off to jail, or worse. But Jer saved the day. I was told that when they called my name to go on stage, Timmy started to pull out the fireworks and Jer pointed at a policeman watching him....so, common sense ruled for once.

Another graduation I remember was a high school party graduation being held secretly in the woods behind our house. Sabra and her friends discovered it first, a large tent filled with teenagers and kegs of beer. We were all sitting outside, when Timmy stated he was going to get a beer from the party tent. He was already drinking from a plastic red party cup that he held in a crocheted purse we had found on the road...he called it his "beer cozy". I said I'm going to bed, not wanting to have anything to do with this and later was told what happened. Sabra and her friends peeked through the woods, carefully and quietly following Tim. They said he went right to the center of the lit tent, to the keg, held up his beer cozy and said, "I am Bacchus, fill my cup". Everyone looked and the burly guys in charge of the keg, took the tap, and filled his cup. I was in bed reading when I heard him rummaging through the closet. What are you looking for? I asked and he answered "fireworks". Apparently he thought because they gave him a beer, they deserved fireworks. Now the whole idea of having a party in the woods is so no one knows where you are. Not a good idea to set off fireworks...Again, Sabra reported what happened next. Timmy went into the woods, pasing a couple searching through the grass for her contact lens. The fireworks went off, and all hell broke loose as the burly guys came running through the woods, looking for the culprit. They were sidetracked by the couple in the grass, and Timmy made it out safely. He ran up the stairs yelling, "Shut off the lights, Turn off the lights" and Sabra and her friends all came in and hid. Kristin was the only victim, had run into the picnic table, trying to get in the house and hurt her toe.

So that's graduation. You experience many of them, but only a few stick in your mind. Like weddings....maybe next I will tell you what weddings I remember best and why.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Well this week I sent in my membership dues to the Red Hook Pool. This pool has been a part of our life since my kids were little and became even more important in the last years of Ria's life as we all were members, sharing many afternoons and many laughs. It was hard, very hard, that first summer after Ria died. Everytime I looked up I expected to see her coming through the door, big bag full of books, drinks and snacks for everyone in it, straw hat perched on her head and a great big smile. But she never came and it got harder, not easier that year. Last year was better and I hope this year will be better too.

The pool is a short drive from Tivoli, not even ten minutes. You go up the steps and enter the pool house where you're greeted with a bunch of teenagers, the life guards who take turns manning the entry. Music greets you, the kind of music that gets your shoulders moving and your feet tapping. Through the door and there is the pool surrounded by half a dozen shelters for shade and an assortment of white chairs and lounges.

Three years ago, Ria would be waiting under one of the pavillions, saving us a spot in the shade. Several chairs would be arranged for us and she would give us a big smile and wave us on. Regina would be already swimming in the pool. Regina had swim lessons at noon and Ria just stayed since the pool opened at one, getting one of the ideal seating spots. That year was a good one for many reasons - the kids were all at a cute age, the food concession was excellent, and the weather was great.

That is one thing about the pool....the weather has a big influence. One clap of thunder, even though it's just heat thunder miles away, and the lifeguards' whistles blow and every one has to come out of the pool for 20 minutes..."that's the state law" as we are told. That year, 2007 the whistles blew for a different reason one afternoon. We all looked around, no thunder, no clouds, what was is? "Feces, human feces in the pool" one lifeguard yelled and we all looked at each other in amazement.

Mothers pulled their children close, as if the pool contained a poison or a bomb about to go off. We watched as the lifeguards amassed and assessed the situation. The director passed us muttering "It's those gd disposable diapers" but Regina and Atticus were quick to point out that the object was in the adult area of the pool, not the childrens' side. Most members sat, waiting to see what would happen next, a few really disgusted adults left. A big net was brought out, and a pail to put the specimen in. As I said, most people stayed far away, but Atticus and Regina had to get a close look. Ria and I laughed as we saw them head right to the scene of the crime. "Look at that Ma", Ria giggled, "they'll give us the real scope on the poop". And they did, describing the object in detail and telling us that the lifeguards told them that they had to put bleach in the water, wait fifteen minutes and then you could swim again. We watched as five big gallons of bleached were poured into the pool. Maria looked at me. "Do you want to hang around?" she asked. "Why not?" We agreed, no big deal....like the caretaker said in Caddyshack. No big deal and he put the candy bar (mistaken for something else) in his mouth, and chewed it.

That's one memory of that year. Another one is Ria was reading the latest Harry Potter, a big fat book she was going through like a marathon reading. She was up to the part where Dobie, Harry's house elf friend is killed, and Harry digs his grave, without magic, and tenderly and lovingly buries him. Ria told us how when she read this she burst right out loud crying. That conversation has stuck with me for many reasons, and helps to make the pool a special place in my memories.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Another Mother's Day rolling in. Paul asked me on the phone "What can I get you for Mother's Day?" and my usual answer was birdseed or Fundador. Everybody knows what birdseed is, but Fundador is something special. Laura introduced me to it...a Spanish brandy. She would say FUN da dor....and it is fun. Fun to drink, fun to say. I have gotten into the habit of having a swig (or more) of Fundador before I go to bed. So, if I am going away for the week or even a night, I have to be sure to pack my FUN da dor.

A couple of years ago I spend a few days at the Lake with Paul, Helene and the kids in their cabin. The cabin is typical, loft upstairs with beds, no ceilings in the bedrooms, so everything is open and easily heard. I was pouring my nightly drink and asked Helene if she would care for some and she agreed. The only glass she had was a small character glass, but Fundador can go into anything. Anyway, Paul was upstairs reading to Shane and Zach, I had settled into my bed and Ian was getting a snack in the kitchen, when he spotted the glass, and thinking it was for him, took a big swig. All hell broke out....he clutched his chest, sputtered, fell on the floor, kicking his feet, muttering incoherently. Of course everyone could hear him, and Paul yelled down, "What's going on down there?" Helene answered "Ian drank my Fundador by mistake." Paul, puzzled screamed down, "What the %^&^% is Fundador? I ran out of my bedroom and by this time Ian had recovered and to tell you the truth we all had a good laugh at it.

Last year I drove Atticus and Regina to the Cape a day before we could get in our cabin. The ride was terrible, we got settled in the motel, and I thought, in a few hours, I can go to sleep. Then I realized...I had forgotten my FUNdador. I fell on the bed, saying words a grandmother shouldn't even think, when Atticus calmly stated, "Linny, I will text Rachael and she can bring it out tomorrow when she comes." And she did....the one time I realized both the importance of texting and careful packing.

I remember one time Laura and her boyfriend Art who were both working together as painters had too much FUNdador the night before. They suffered through work, then their car wouldn't start and they had to walk home. Laura said it felt like a tomahawk was sticking straight in her skull. I guess you can have too much FUNdador.

Bucky liked Seagram's. She would drink it out of a Mason jar. When she was very sick, and her doctor wasn't helping her out, she told him, "Time for me to see Dr. Seagram." The doctor had no sense of humor (or alcohol) and shook his head and said, "I don't recall hearing about a Dr. Seagram." I think I will use Bucky's line with my doctor....Well, time for me to see Dr. Fundador.

I'm getting to be more and more like Bucky. Talk about imprint, Bucky stamped us, tattooed us, marked us for life with her wonderful sense of humor and being. Thank you Bucky and Happy Mother's Day in heaven.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

I've been hearing a lot about facebook lately, most of it not good. People being robbed after they wrote on their facebook "Oh so glad to be going to Florida for the next two weeks". Teenagers and even younger kids bullying and being mean..."Oh you look so fat in that picture you posted". Every now and then when I check my e-mail there's another person "wanting to be your friend". Now, I don't have many friends, but I don't think that is how I want to get them.

When I was a kid (long before the internet) we had autograph books that we would exchange with our friends. This was very popular in the 50's and I can still recall some of the verses that were written. We were about in the fifth grade and just starting to notice the opposite sex, so there were some suggestive ones at that time:

I love you much, I love you mightly,
I love your pajamas near my nighty.
No don't get excited, don't get red,
I mean on the clothesline -not in bed.

When you get married, and you have twins,
Don't come to me for safety pins.

Don't kiss by the garden gate.
Love is blind, but the neighbors ain't.

Tulips in the garden,
Tulips in the park.
But the tulips that Linda likes best
Are two lips in the dark.

We always hid our autograph books so our parents wouldn't read the above.

The pages of the autograph books were varied colors, so some kids would write on a blue page, I hope you are never the color of this page. Or on red "This is the color you get when you see (boy's name who is in the class). "

Some times the page would be folded over, and on the outside would say, "If you are beautiful, open this". Then inside it would say, "Stuck Up. That's getting a little close to Facebook. Or, "Open if you have a dirty mind" and inside "Ivory Soap." Corny, huh. But that's what the autograph book was for. Corny verses. Sometimes teachers would sign and they always wrote something like "Good luck as you continue your journey through school" or "You have been a pleasure to have in the fifth grade". I remember my art teacher, a beautiful young woman, Miss LaScala would always draw a figure, a girl for a girl's book, a boy for a boy's book and sign her name next to it.

That's another thing. You had to use your best penmanship because you knew EVERYBODY was going to read what you had written. Kids can type on the computer probably close to a 100 words a minute, but they can't write legibly anymore.

After you wrote your verse, signed you name, then you had to add: "Your's til Niagara Falls".
Or, "Your's til butter flies". Locally, we had "Your's til Bear Mountain gets dressed" or "Your's til Cold Springs".

Today it is all shorthand LOL, IMHO, WTF - for a two fold reason - older people don't know what you are saying, and it is quicker. IMHO - give me an autograph book anyday.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

I am taking two classes in the Learning Institute this Spring - Family in the Bible and three plays by Eugene O'Neill. They are both worth while. Yesterday we learned about Joseph and his brothers and family. Joseph's story has its up and downs...thrown in a pit by his brothers, sold to slavery, became Head of the Slaves in the Phaoroah's home, thrown into prison, etc, etc. The teacher emphasized the unknowns in a life, nothing can really be planned, with a story his grandfather had told him.

A tailor and his Polish Magistrate are friends. One day the Magistrate drives by in his car and sees the tailor. "Where are you going?" he asks and the tailor responds "I don't know". The Magistrate's friends in the car laugh at this and the Magistrate, angrily asks again, "Don't make me look foolish, where are you going?" Again the tailor answers "I don't know". More laughs in the car, and the Magistrate says "Give me an answer, or I will have you thrown into jail." And, again, the tailor shrugs and says, "I don't know" so they throw him in jail. The next day the Magistrate visits him in jail and says, "Why wouldn't you tell me where you were going?" And the tailor responds, "Did I know I was going to jail?"

O'Neill wrote Mourning Becomes Electra, the American version of a Greek Tragedy. That teacher couldn't help himself and told us this joke: A man goes to his tailor, puts a pair of pants on the table, and asks, "Eumenides (You menda deese)?" The tailor responds, "Euripides?(You ripa deese)"

You can tell I love these classes. But the best thing happened last night. I was thinking about the story of Joseph, really a wonderful, entertaining piece, and I looked for Aunt Lillian's bible to see if this version matched the Rabbi's version he had told us in class. Now, Maria had inherited Lillian's bibles, several of them, so she had given one to Tim, a white bounded book marked with the American Legion seal. I had often referred to this book since many of my classes deal with religion, but last night I discovered something for the first time.

Glued in the front of the book was a spiritual leaflet, entitled Power for Living ... the First Step. Inside the pamphet were two pieces of paper. One was a note from Uncle Phil, a love note written on a scrap of paper, with a heart with an arrow drawn through it. I love you written in Uncle Phil's uneven handwriting.

The other piece of paper looked like it had been in a small pad and written in red ink in Aunt Lillian's beautiful penmanship was a poem - The Traveler by James Dillet Freeman.

Let me write it out for you:

She has put on invisibility
Dear Lord, I cannot see -
But this I know, although the road
ascends and passes from my sight,
That there will be no night;
That you will take her gently by the hand
and lead her on
Along the road of life that never ends,
and she will find it is not death but dawn.
I do not doubt that you are there as here,
and you will hold her dear.

Our life did not begin with birth,
It is not of the earth;
and this that we call death, it is no more
than the opening and closing of a door -
And in your house, how many rooms must be
Beyond this one where we rest momentarily.

Dear Lord, I thank you for the faith that frees,
The love that knows it cannot lose its own;
The love that, looking thru the shadows, see
that you and she and I are ever one.

A gift from Aunt Lillian and Maria.

One more note about our class. Joseph's story ends the Book of Genesis. The book starts with Adam and Eve and Cain killing his brother Abel. When the Lord asks Where is Abel? Cain answers "Am I my brother's keeper?" and with Joseph at the end of Genesis forgiving his brothers, and loving them in spite of the past, it answers the question...Yes, I am my brother's keeper. I like that.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Yesterday I stopped at our Agway store to buy birdseed and a mother and daughter were sitting outside the store, with three cages of baby rabbits. When I was making my purchase, the phone rang and the question was asked "Is the lady with the rabbits still there? Someone else wants to buy rabbits?" They are hard to resist, but then I remembered back when we had rabbits.

I don't remember where they came from, but Joel had made a hutch and two baby rabbits appeared, one almost all white, one with black spots - two males (or so we thought) Peter and Thumper. Then in June my sister Kathy said the class pet, a black rabbit named Benjamin, had not been claimed by any of her students. Would we want him? So Benjamin was added to the group. But when he was placed in the hutch with the other two, a terible ruckus occurred, so Benjamin moved into the house.

Benjamin liked to sit under the pot belly stove and amazing to me, he would only poop in the bathroom, on the bathroom rug. The fact that he knew what room to use, plus always the same spot was appreciated by me, the cleaner. All I had to do was carefully pick up the rug, then shake it in the toilet and voila, all done. Unless somebody didn't look where they were going and stepped on the rug. Then it was a different story.

One morning I went to the hutch and was horrified by a sight of tiny, hairless, dead baby rabbits. Thumper was NOT a boy. She apparently was amazed at what had happened and was pulling out her hair to make a nest, a little too late. To avoid another sight like that, Peter was moved onto the porch. There he quickly made a home in a large, leatherly reclining chair, a tossed out gift from Uncle Phil. We liked to point out that Peter made two holes in the chair, an entrance and an exit hole. "In case he was chased in by a predator, he had another exit, so he could escape safely", we would proudly explain. No explanation for a rabbit, a rabbit predator, or a large reclining chair on someone's porch though. Peter, unlike Benjamin, was not happy indoors, so everyday we let him out to roam the yard. Getting him back in at night was the problem. "Go put your shoes on, we have to catch Peter", I would tell the kids. It took all of us to catch him. He would run in circles, dart out of our hands. It usually took anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes to corner him. Paul was best at it - but Peter would retaliate as Paul got close. "He's pissing on me," Paul would yell, but knowing there was no rest until Peter was on the porch, would try to grab him anyway.

This went on for months, until someone from IBM wanted rabbits and came in a truck to take the three rabbits, hutch thrown in as well, away. He had two little kids with him, and they were so pleased with the sight of the rabbits. Like the army, it was "don't ask, don't tell" as we handed them over. The man took four boxes out of the truck, each one holding a large chocolate rabbit. The trade was complete.

The girls cried and moaned at the loss of their pets, but Paul opened up his candy box, settled on the couch in front of the TV and joyfully, contently grawed at the rabbit.

I never found out what happened to Thumper, Peter and Benjamin. But somehow, I bet it wasn't pretty. Happy Easter everyone. God Bless.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

After Maria's memorial last week, Paul and I were sitting in Sabra's yard, sipping drinks and watching the others dive into the food. Paul turned to me and asked, "Ma, will you just come and look at furniture with me?" I knew just what he was talking about. They all want me to get rid of my couch.

I bought the couch and the gray reclining chair (which they also want me to get rid of) 24 years ago when Maria was pregnant with Rachael. We went to Sears together and she helped me pick the couch out...a light brown fuzzy couch, with three cushions and fashionable buttons decorating and forming the cushions and the back of the couch. 24 years is a long time, but I love this couch. It fits me like a glove.

Other people have remarked on the couch. When my brother visits he tries to avoid it because of the difficulty in rising from it...you kind of sink in. And it was even featured in a film that Sabra made for me, called My Crazy Family. The segment on the couch is titled "Defending the Couch" and is simply Laura, Sabra and myself (sitting on the couch) talking about it. It goes something like this:

Laura: Ma just wants to keep the couch because Emily (the cat) died on it.

Me: No, Emily died on the chair, she jumped up and her claws got caught, and that did her in.

Sabra: How about the time the rat was hiding his food in the couch?

(Several years ago we had a varmint in the house that was stealing cherry tomatoes off the kitchen table. I accused Timmy and he really couldn't deny it, because sometimes at night he just eats anything he can get his hands on. Anyway, I was looking for something that might have slipped in the couch, and my hand came in contact with something soft...the cherry tomatoes. Sure enough, soon after we caught a rat in a hav-a-heart and that was that story.)

Me: That was years ago, and nobody else has hidden food in the couch since.

Laura: It just looks so bad Ma.

Me: Well, how about Timmy's gym shorts hanging over the stove, the hanger attached to a family picture? Or the paper plate that is covering the old stove pipe hole? Or, those awful curtains that I got from Mary because she couldn't pay rent?

Laura piping in: Or the lawn furniture I'm stting in. (A director's chair, another rent payment from Mary.)

Sabra: But what happens when people come to visit?

Me: Who ever comes here but you people? And, do you think if I called Angelo (my neighbor, now in Heaven), asking him to come over he would say, "I'd come over but you have THAT COUCH.

It's pretty funny dialogue and was made that many years ago. I remember when they were going to deliver the couch and chair. Kevin's cousin came over to take the old couch (that was in pretty bad condition), but he and his wife carried it out like it was a treasure. Sabra was probably about 16 then, and she said sadly "I had a lot of good times on that couch" and I added "Me, too" , just as sadly. That's what it is about the couch. I sit on it every morning, put on the news and drink my first cup of coffee. At night I eat supper on the couch, drinking a beer and go from the couch to the bed. A nice full rotation...bed...couch...bed. Every one of my grandchildren (except Jer and Liz) has taken a nap on it, sat on it and laughed. Our last memory of Maria is sitting on that couch with Solomon, laughing about cheese farts the afternoon before she died.

So, unless somebody sets the couch on fire, or something terrible lives in it, I think it can make a few more years..at least until Rachael is 30.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Well. St. Patty's Day has come and gone, a glorious day with kites flying, bubbles blowing and the kids running with kites and just chasing each other. I expected someone to run into a gravestone and lose some teeth, but that thankfully didn't happen. There was quite an ensemble, all of the family, Rachael and her boyfriend Myles, Jer and Gabbie, Rachael's friends and Maria's friend Carol and her husband. Yellow crocus were blooming on her grave, the only live flowers in the cemetery and three vases of flowers were filled in her memory. Jer's pink tulips gently brushed against the stone, near the words "Not lost, gone before" and that is how it felt - we didn't lose her, you couldn't lose Maria, she will be with us forever.

I did remember something Zach said last year to me...a year after she died. She was buried on March 22, Shane's birthday. Zach was remembering that day and said, "Last year, Shane had a terrible birthday. We had to go to a wedding." I looked at him, wondering what he meant, and then I realized he mixed up wedding with funeral. And I had to laugh. Some weddings certainly turn into something else. Humor was Maria's legacy and that too goes on.

Friday, March 12, 2010

I've been feeling low lately, a combination of the time of year, not good results from the knee doctor and just a somethings not right feeling. I was even writing imaginary gloomy blogs about Amazing Grace and the sad sound of the geese returning. Then today, three things turned this around. First my horoscrope (don't laugh) "Just because you have a tendency toward theatrics, doesn't mean you'll sign up for misery....Go where the happy people are." Then a woman, Barbara from Georgia, a stranger to the family, wrote to teamria blog "sharing your loss and your joyful memories makes each of you stronger". And finally, the piliated woodpecker was right outside my window and hung around in the back yard for a long time. So, I'm replacing the sad sound of Amazing Grace with some of my best memories of Maria and the family.

And most of them have to do with Cape Cod. Maria was like the Tazmania Devil on the Cape, chauffeur, grocery shopper, beach packer upper, etc. She was at her best when something went wrong, like the toilet getting clogged - a big problem when there are more than a dozen people using it. Maria would get a gleam in her eye, put a big pot of water to water to boil, find the plunger and be off to rid the clog. "I learned everything about plumbing from the old man", she would say, pouring the boiling water down the toilet, plunging, more water, plunging, until you heard a victory cry "Shitter's working".

The same with setting up the umbrella. The beach winds on the Cape are often strong, sending unbrellas dangerously spinning at helpless, unsuspecting beach goers. Maria had a way with the umbrellas, they never got free when she put them in. First, she would find the right spot, not too many stones, then she would get into a deep knee bend, gripping the umbrella pole and twisting her body and the pole round and round, going deeper and deeper. Ria had beautiful legs, a strong dancer's legs, nothing weak about them, and that umbrella would be in for the whole day.

Oh, sometimes we laughed at ourselves. Once, when Rachael was about ten, Maria opened a beer (no alcohol on the beaches) and Rachael started to yell "Lifeguard, Lifeguard, my mother's drinking a beer". Ria smacked her hand over her mouth, and promised to drag her up the dune and leave her in the car if she didn't stop. One time Atticus and Regina were acting up, and we kept yelling at them, Atticus, Regina, Atticus Regina. A group nearly by (probably with alcohol) started to mimic us, but they said Sparticus, Regina Rex, Sparticus. It made us laugh too.

Just driving to the Cape in the car with Maria was an adventure. One time we stopped at MacDonald's so that Maria could nurse Regina, who was having a fit. We were sitting in the car, waiting for Regina to fill up, when an oriental woman backed her car into a parked car. Straightening the car, she ran into a car in front of her. People all came out to see the commotion and the woman started to yell at her kids in a heavy accent: "See what you make me do! You make me have accident! You make me have two accidents!" Maria and I laughed at that for the next two hours.

There were a lot of laughs the year that Regina and Ava were in the same class. Ava had moved to Red Hook, but Maria assured me that they never put two people from the same family together. That was until Ava and Regina ended up in the same class. Every day after school there was another episode and one I remember well involved Ava standing up and saying in a loud voice (and deep voice, she sounded like Gravel Gerty) "Eat it like a French Souffle". Well, nobody knew what that meant then or now, but she kept repeating it, until Regina couldn't help herself and she stood up and yelled "Eat it like a French Souffle". Maria said the teacher just said sadly, "Girls I wish you wouldn't say that any more"and sent home a note for Maria to help her enforce stopping the dietary comment.

Maria could make you laugh about anything, about Kevin's workers complaining he was too hard on them..."Mr Kevin, I am a man, I am not an animal", about the plumber, she knicknamed Whistling Willie who gave all his instructions to his crew by whistling (nobody understood English). About the cat that threw up all the time, even in their Christmas manger, and peed on their clean clothes. Ria knew where the happy people were, they were in her head laughing at life's little problems, seeing the humor in everything.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

It's almost like I can't remember it not snowing - it has snowed every day for the last seven days. At least the kids can enjoy it, I thought, until I read in the paper yesterday some states are actually considering banning sledding. Or at least making it the law to wear a helmet while on a sled. Can you believe it? The best memories I have of winter are sleigh riding, especially at night.

Beacon had designated certain streets as "play streets". These were usually steep hills and as a play street were not plowed and were closed to car traffic. We were lucky that Master's Place, one of the play streeets, was right near by. It was at the end of a series of less steep hills that snaked down from Falconer Street to Liberty. As soon as we had a heavy snow, we all met at the corner, bundled up, pulling our sleds, ready to go.

There were two ways to ride down the hill. You could sit up and steer with your feet, kind of clumsy because this was a job your feet were not used to. Or the preferred way, on your belly, steering with your hands. Also, this increased the speed of the trip, or at least it seemed that way. Sometimes, especially at night, the older kids would make a "train", attaching all the sleds (each sled how a rope on it to tow it back up the hill with) and making one hell of a dangerous ride. You could catch your fingers or feet between the sleds. Also, as the sleds gained speed, some one would turn over, causing all those sleds in back of it to tip as well.

Sometimes you rode two or three to a sled, sitting one behind the other, the designated driver the only that could see where you were headed. The ride was fast, and the walk back up the hill seemed to take forever, as you had to keep dodging the sleds that were coming down.

Yankee magazine had an article about sleds, saying that sledding goes back centuries to when the Roman soldiers would use their shields to go down hills in battle. In our country sleds were mostly used to haul timber, ice and supplies until the mid 1800's when sleds were manufactured for recreation.

Our kids had sleds and a tobaggan that was a family Christmas gift for all four of them. They sled over at Mimi's, off of Boyd road. Good thing there was not much traffic, because the hill shot them right across Clay Hill into the woods. The tobaggan was used in back of Mary's house, now Tink and Irene's. They would go off with our neighbor Tony for hours on that hill. I remember one time when they were sledding, Tony knocked on the door and asked for Joel. Joel listened to him and quickly got on his coat and followed him up the hill. Tony had told him that Maria was hurt, not talking, but was all right by the time he reached her - just had the wind knocked out of her. Oh yeah, it had its dangers, bloody noses from bumping the head in front of you, black and blue marks from hitting the snow hard, but that was all part of it.

Rereading this post, I am beginning to see the point. Maybe it is too dangerous. Like diving boards. All the high diving boards have been removed from local pools. But those diving boards, and the fast sleds were "rites of passage" moving you from little kid to big kid, little hill to big hill. Building your confidence, your self esteem. So go on and sleigh ride. Tomorrow's March and this snow can't last forever.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

As Death Month winds down, I thought it would be fitting to recall my memories of one of the month's victims, my father's friend from childhood, Cap Hancock, aka Lawrence Hancock and Judge Hancock. I remember vividly Cap at my father's funeral. He was a tall man, over six feet, and he put his arm around my much shorter Uncle Ed and walked out of the church with him. A year later he read a poem at my father's grave. He and his wife were frequent guests of the O'Leary parties and I also remember one time he and his wife had traveled to Clermont State Park and approached for a tour just at the closing time. I was standing behind the guide that answered the door as they were told the house was closed, they couldn't come in. I had to smile as he grandly remarked "I've been thrown out of better places than this", as he and his wife walked away. But I got to know Cap best the last two years of his life, when we were pen pals.

Cap was in a nursing home in Beacon. My brother was a frequent visitor and coveyer of books for Cap to read. He loved to read and had read his favorites Dickens and Doyle over and over. I gave my brother some of Anne Morrow Lindberg's Diaries to read and that's how the correspondence began. From February 2002 until late in 2003 we exchanged letters. I received 16 in all.

At first he just talked about Anne's books and the Lindberg's and what he remembered of that time. But every now and then he added something about his childhood and a clue to what my own father's life was like in those years. "Glenham boys don't cry or wear hats in the winter'', he wrote. "They never learn how to dance", although he said he had to learn how to waltz when he was in a play in his senior year. And he did admit to a tear reading Dicken's Dombey at the death of poor little Paul Dombey. Also, he confessed to reading a "girl's book" Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking glass although he said he never told his friends he read it. Mark Twain had been a childhood favorite and Cap wrote that he imagined Hannibal (Twain's home that he wrote about in Tom Sawyer) seemed a lot like Glenham in my youth.

He would recommend books to me that he was reading..Mornings on Horseback, a biography of Theodore Roosevelt. He admired Teddy and said that Teddy had been heartbroken when he learned his father that he idolized had hired a substitute to fight for him in the Civil War. Books were his passion and his pastime in the years in the nursing home. As they seemed to have always been - he told me he had read Oliver Twist when he was 9 years old.

Some of his letters contained information on his years as Judge in the Glenham Courthouse. He said lawyers were "lots of talk" and he kept himself awake by doing isometric exercises and repeating silently the Avogadro's Hypothesis, "Equal volumes of all gases....". He recalled one time when he had poison ivy from his waist down and he couldn't stop squirming on the bench. My brother told me once that Cap had told him about a young person who came before him with a ring in her nose. He thought her nose was running and handed her his handkerchief. He was a judge longer than any one else in the state as I recall.

He wrote a little about being in the war, had he had earned M-1 rifle medals and then added "my dear wife let my Robert (his son) have the medals to play soldier with. For all I know they are now on the bottom of the creek" and added "crick" as they say in Glenham.

I once was at the nursing home visiting Aunt Lillian who was there for only a few days. He wasn't in his room, but I peeked in and saw piles of books on the window sill and on the floor. He had a reputation as a "ladies man" and the nurses warned Aunt Lillian to beware of him. Not the picture I had of him reading Dickens aloud in his very theatrical voice. He died on February 10, 2004. I am happy I was able to share a little of his history those last years. He liked to write that we shared several things, both Bard graduates, both Leos (his birthday a day before mine) and both readers. Rest in peace, Cap.

Monday, February 15, 2010

I've been treating myself on Saturday morning to a soft boiled egg. You may wonder why that is special, but I buy these jumbo brown eggs at Adams that are delicious and a soft boiled egg is the best thing in the world. You prick the large end of the egg with a needle, place in boiling water, and boil for five minutes gently. Some say four minutes, but with the jumbo you need to do five. Then crack the top, open and expose the yolk and dip in.

I use a safety pin to make the hole. I usually have one pinned to my underside of my shirt, a habit I got into years ago. My mother always had a safety pin on her clothes so somehow I figured it was good luck. Bucky used the pin to remind herself which breast she had used to nurse the last time. Bucky had four kids in six years, Bob, then the twins, then Diane. With the twins I guess she didn't need the safety pin.

I wondered about safety pins. I don't think they are used much anymore. Timmy gets them at races because they come with the number to be pinned on his chest. When my kids were little we had great big safety pins for their diapers - they even came topped in pink or blue plastic, boy or girl. It used to be terrible when a pin wouldn't hit the diaper and get the baby.

I wondered why they were called safety pins and the internet explaned that the patent went to William Hunt in 1849. The clasp and spring action were designed to keep the fingers safe, and that's how it got its name - safety pin. During the punk rock period it became popular to use safety pins as fashion. I can remember Jer having big pins holding his torn pant legs together. Pins were used as earrings - ouch - or in other pierced places. The recent fashion shows reveal a return of the safety pin...calling it "recession friendly" ..pins decorate vests and are used as collars on shirts and suits.

Anyway, back to the soft boiled egg. This was a popular dish served by my parents to the little kids, we called it "eggie pop". A soft boiled egg was taken out of the shell, placed in a bowl with small cut up pieces of white bread, so that the bread soaked up the yolk. The kids loved it and it was a healthy and filling breakfast, lunch or supper. Take my advice and try it.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The picture shows the four of us, Me and Laura in the front, Sabra and Maria in the background, between two fake palm trees with the sign " Carnival Ecstasy Feb 7 1994" written on the wall behind us. It's hard to tell who has the biggest smile. Yes, it was 16 years ago, a bad winter, lots of snow when I heard of a special offer on the Carnival, 2 full fares, one half fare and one free, but this offer was only good for a short time. I called up the girls, Sabra had to check with her boss, Maria had to get Mary to take care of Jer and Rachael. I think Laura said yes right away, but it wasn't more than a few hours that I called the travel agent and we got the tickets to go on our cruise in less than a week's time.

It was to be a quick four day cruise, leaving Miami at 4pm, first day in Key West, next day in Cozumel, a day at sea, and then back to Miami. Kevin drove us to Stewart Airport. It was snowing lightly but our flight left on time. Maria was a little nervous about flying and when we landed in Miami the pilot did that wing tipping thing, first one wing, then the other as he landed. Maria said loudly, "Just land the f..... thing" which got a few laughs. Before leaving port we had to Muster, where everyone puts on lifejackets and goes to a central area as if there was some sort of crisis. This put everyone in a good mood, as the jackets were bulky and hard to walk in. Then we were off - the adventure had begun.

Key West was fun, with a tour of Hemingway's House and some souvenir buying. Cozumel was hot and dirty and the best day of the cruise was the day at sea. We all went to a show The Newlywed Game with the contestants being other cruisers. We sat around the pool, and fixated on a little red haired girl that looked a little like Rachael, even taking pictures of her. Two events that stick in my head are of the casino when Maria hit the slots, winning over $150. The machine was roaring, flashing, and the coins were pouring out, with Ria yelling Ma, Ma. I have a picture of her grasping the container holding all her coins, and she has the same look on her face as she did at age five with a bag of Holloween candy. The other memory is of her ordering tea at the supper table and the waiter came out with a wooden box, that he opened grandly for her to select the type of tea. "Look, it's in a box, a whole box of tea, like a treasure chest." The most fun of all though was joking with the crew that took care of our room.

As is customary, the ship's crew would fold towels into animal shapes and leave them on our beds at night. After the first time they did it, Maria made some little animal and left it for them. Then they got fancier and so did we. The last night we planned a special treat for the men who were so polite, always smiling, but very hard to understand with their poor English. Sitting at the pool we thought of making a whole person for them to find. And then we decided where to put the dummy - on the toilet. We stuffed clothes, pants and shirt. The head was a coconut face I had bought in Key West. A hat was put on his head, and we turned off the bathroom light and went to dinner. That was when the men always came into the room to tidy and turn down the beds. When we got back to the room, the men were waiting for us. In broken English they said how scared and surprised they were to find the body on the toilet. They used pantomine to show how surprised they were and then they shook our hands and said this was "the best trip ever". For them!

Leaving the ship we heard some people talking about a snowstorm in the north. Is it snowing in New York? we asked and the man nodded his head and said "it"s been snowing for four straight days there." There was some delay, but we finally got on our first flight. Changing to go to Stewart, the plane to take us there was waiting, with all the travelers angry for having to sit in the still plane for over an hour waiting for just four people. The stewardess rushed us, not even letting us use the restroom, hurry, hurry, hurry. The other riders glared at us and off we took. You could see the snow as we got closer to the airport. It was early evening and Maria looked out the plane window and said nervously, "They have ambulances waiting for us. They think we're going to crash". But what she saw was the snowplows with flashing lights, clearing the runway. No one was waiting to pick us up at the airport. Kevin and Tim had been told no flights were able to come in. So we had to wait for Kevin to get there.

Taking Laura home to Kingston, the snow was piled high along the roads. Not wanting to risk her steep and slippery hill, Kevin dropped her off at the top and our last sight of her was her struggling in the snow with her suitcases. They were right, it had been snowing the whole time we were away. But what a wonderful vacation, like the crewmen had said "the best ever".

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Well February - death month - has claimed another victim, Alice Horton, Grams, of Days of our Lives, in real life Frances Reid who died this week at the age of 95. Alice was the matriach of the family. She started the role in 1965. I started to watch in 1997. It was after the car accident. I was getting around with a walker, able to take care of myself, when the phone rang and Maria asked if Rachael could hang out with me that day. Rachael wasn't feeling good, and Maria could not miss work. She assured me Rachael who was 11 would be no trouble. And she wasn't. We were watching television when she asked if she could watch a show called Days of Our Lives. And that's how I got hooked.

Days had at that time more than 8,000 episodes under its belt. Alice was well established as the grandmother who doled out advice and her donuts to an adoring family. Alice had been married to Dr. Tom Horton (MacDonald Carey) who died in real life in 1994 but they still show reruns of him and Alice and of course, each show starts with his voice saying "Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives".

In 1997 when I started to watch the show was really going all out. One actress was playing four parts, Kristen Black (pretending to be pregnant to fool her husband), Susan Blake, a plain woman with buck teeth who actually was pregnant (impregnanted by Stefano who was dressed like Elvis because Susan was in love with Elvis Presley), Sister Mary, a nun, and Sister Mary's brother, who looked just like the other three but had a mustach. Who wouldn't get hooked on this show? Susan had Marlena (her husband's true love) locked up in the wine cellar. Bo was seaching the bayou for Swamp Girl and his wife Hope thought she was a Princess. Rachael patiently explained all this to me and I began to watch every day. In fact it became the highlight of every day.

I noticed last year that Alice hadn't been on since Christmas 2008. She was referred to often: Grams is taking a nap, or Grams is baking cookies, Grams is visiting a friend. But no Alice was in the show. Then the news of her death with a review of some of the early shows when she was really the star. All through the film the song "Always" was playing. This was Alice and Tom's song, many scenes of them singing together, "I'll be loving you always, with a love that's true always." I cried like a baby watching Alice grow old within minutes, going from young and beautiful to gray hair and feeble. That's what I mean by hooked. You get to really know these characters , as well if not better than your own family.

The thing that I love most about this show is the continuance of characters and of course the play with time. Elvis, Stefano's son who should really be about 13, is a regular character today, married with two children. And last year his wife faked pregnancy just like the one so many years ago. And the viewer accepts it. Accepts every terrible thing that they see: people buried alive, implants placed in their brains, poison apples and of course pregnancy after pregnancy. After watching this show for 13 years, day in and day out, I think you can accept almost anything life hands you. And that's why I watch Days and am proud to say it. But who will replace Grams and bake the donuts? I think Maggie who just lost her husband, runs a restaurant and has a drinking problem.

Friday, January 22, 2010

When I was a kid it seemed like I had a million aunts and uncles. My father's mother Nana was one of ten children, five boys and five girls. The aunts were: Aunt Sadie, who lived to be 84. I have a note from her at age 80 when she was still working, watching three children. I had sent her a Christmas picture of the kids and she said she had red hair like Ria when she was a kid. Aunt Sadie always remembered our birthdays. A card carrying a dime would arrive right on time. She lived in Connecticut so we didn't see much of her, but you could always count on that card and that dime. Aunt Mae lived in Glenham, married to Mitt Moseman with three boys. She was a tiny woman with a gray bun, always wearing an apron, and most often sitting in front of the tv watching wrestling. Aunt Gert shared my twin sisters birthday, so every year she would come to their party, with TWO store bought cakes. Gert died young of cancer. Aunt Mina lived in California, so I don't remember even meeting her. I had even forgotten her name and that now Kathleen's granddaughter is named Mina, I find that interesting. The Uncles are less memorable, one died before I was even born. But I do remember stories about Uncle Sam and Uncle Teddy. These were just my father's aunts and uncles on his mother's side.

Nana had five children, Daddy, Joe who died young, Uncle Ed who died last year at 96 and two girls, Aunt El and Aunt Grace. Aunt El was my favorite aunt, made wonderful toll house cookies and gave beautiful gifts for all the holidays. Aunt Grace lived on Long Island, but later moved to Glenham so I got to know her better. She had her last two children, girls, late in life. At 41 years she had Margaret and at 45 she had Ellie. She was very cheerful, with a big smile and lived to be 84.

My Grandmother had a brother Joe, Great Uncle Joe that lived in the city. When we visited him and his wife Rose we were warned to be quiet because Uncle Joe had been gassed in the war, MUSTARD gas, which we thought was kind of funny. Her sister Mary lived in the city too, was custodian for an apartment building, lived in a basement apartment. I remember visiting and not seeing a handle to flush the toilet with. My mother showed me a string hanging from the ceiling that you pulled. Aunt Mary was a good cook. I remember her creamed potatoes with dill. Aunt Anna lived in New Jersey, married to Uncle Arnold. When they visited they would bring their dog, a little dachsund and Uncle Arnold would be told to go climb up Mount Beacon while the sisters talked. There was another sister Julia, but she lived in Arizona I believe so I only heard about her and saw pictures of her as a beautiful young woman.

Poppy had a sister Pauline that lived nearby, and Mrs. Pipi (we called her Mrs Peepa or Peepot) who lived in the city. There were two brothers, Uncle Steve and Uncle Cy but I can't remember them. Mrs. Peepa also was a good cook, and I remember eating golden rice at her house. How does it get this color? someone asked and the answer was goose fat. Delicious.

Bucky had two brothers, Uncle Joe who married Aunt Rose. Aunt Rose was from an Italian family, a good cook, and put up with Uncle Joe's antics, with just a shake of her head, and an "oh Joe". Uncle Eddie married Aunt Muriel. She was from Montreal and spoke French and wore makeup and fancy clothes. She drank wine and smoked cigarettes and called him Ed Dee and he called her Mur EE ALE. They lived in Vermont and then moved to Florida, where for the past fifteen years or so I would visit them on our Florida trips. Aunt Muriel wore a hearing aid and Uncle Eddie would hollar at her...."turn it down, Mur EE ALE. You're buzzing".

So that's my aunts and uncles. I probably forgot some, but my point is that at one time, and it doesn't seem that long ago, I had aunts and uncles a plenty. Yesterday my Uncle Ed died in Florida. This leaves me with one uncle, Uncle Joe who is 90 and lives in Beacon and Aunt Alice who was married to my father's brother and is almost 90.

My kids still call my sisters and brother with the title Aunt or Uncle and John O'Leary, my godson at age 50 still addresses me as Aunt Linda. Aunts and Uncles are so special, and play such a part in our lives, but few books are written about them (oh there's Auntie Mame) and they are kind of the unsung heros and heroines of our families. Playing the role of our father or mother's sisters and brothers, they help complete the family picture. Rest in peace Uncle Eddie.
Rest in peace all of you.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

OK, let me report to you on The Eskimo Twins. When I first started to reread it, I was reading as a cynical, feminist - the first chapter introduces the twins, Menie and Monnie, (Monnie is the girl) and to quote: "They would have thought it luckier still if Monnie had been a boy, too, because boys grow up to hunt and fish and help get food for the family." I snarled, "No wonder I have no self esteem, brought up in an Irish Catholic family, one of five daughters whose father used to say, "in China they drown baby girls" and then I had to read this garbage to reinforce my feminine worthlessness." Oh, I was hard on Lucy Fitch Perkins.

Then I started to read it for the story, so what if the women had to pull the dead bear back into town. So what...women have been cleaning up messes that men started forever and will be doing it forever. So what if the medicine man is a pain-in-the-ass that uses his power to control the villagers (there are only five families) and gets to keep the best pieces of the kills. He's so fat he gets stuck in the tunnel leading into Monnie's igloo. The kids know he's a phony..Menie says, to his mother, If the Angakok (medicine man, leader, whatever) can go anywhere he wants to, why couldn't he get out of the tunnel?" Like the kid exclaiming the Emperor has no clothes on, Menie wasn't taken in by the old liar. Maybe Lucy was telling us to question authority.

The story starts in the winter, dark all the time, then it becomes summer and the whole village climbs into the Woman Boats and goes to a green, grassy, flower filled valley, where the salmon are spawning. They pack everything they own into these boats (kind of like us going to Cape Cod) and set up tents there and fish and hunt and play for four months. Their lives are so simple, without night and day, they just call the passage of time "sleeps" - five sleeps ago this happened or two sleeps ago that happened. And the love and care they have for each other is heartwarming, each sharing what they have, each pulling his own load with an eye out for their neighbor at all times.

Back in their winter home, the mother tellls the children, "The Giants are always waiting before the igloo and we must work very hard to keep them outside" - and they know she doesn't really mean giants, she means the Hunger and Want are always waiting to seize the Eskimo who doesn't work all the time to provide for himself and his family. Now that's a lesson we have not learned or taken to heart. What's in it for me? How can I beat the system? Never heard or thought of from an Eskimo.

So, all in all, I am still happy with the Eskimo Twin book, maybe I even enjoyed it more than 60 years ago. And today, it even hit 34 degrees, first day above freezing - and you know what? it's even lighter earlier. Cape Cod here we come.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Sunday, yesterday, was the fourth day in a row that I didn't go out of the house, just once next door to Sabra's and a trip to the Tivoli Thrift Shop on Saturday. But no car out of the garage. Yesterday it started to get to me. I looked at all the Christmas curios (junk) in the window and thought only of clutter. I looked at the manger scene on the nearby table and thought "that looks more like an oversold rock festival than a manger scene". (I can't resist buying more and more manger figures, there are about 5 Marys and the Wise Men are a crowd, not three.) Anyway, I guess that is what "Cabin Fever" does to you- you get sick of your surroundings.

When I was a kid going to the Howland Library the children's section was way in the corner, you had to pull a cord to get the light to go on so you could find a book. At one time I was hooked on the Twin Series, 26 books by Lucy Fitch Perkins (1865-1937). She wrote about twins around the world, The Irish Twins, The Dutch Twins, Japanese, Mexican, even cave twins. The twins were almost always a girl and a boy (one time they were both boys) and I got drawn into their worlds, so different from mine. The book I loved the best was the "Eskimo Twins", the girl was Monnie and the boy was Mennie. They lived in an igloo, freezing cold, dark half of the year and yet they had the best times....playing in the snow, tracking polar bears, jumping on a fur skin held by the men in the village. I loved their life and wanted to be an Eskimo. A typical scene in the igloo would feature their mother sitting in a corner, making a needle out of a whale bone, their grandmoter chewing on a fur to tenderize it....God it was so exciting.

I just looked up the author, that's why I have that little bit of information, and her books were reprinted in the early 2000's. Then I checked the Tivoli Library, and sure enough, there was the Eskimo twins, so I requested it, and will let everybody know if it still has the appeal that it did 60 years ago. Also, it just might make me appreciate the winter a little bit more.