I am an artist. I am an author. I am an actress. These things are what I do. My father would like me to get a "real job", but I create. Of course, success is measured AFTER the check for any of the "jobs" granted by any of the three CLEARS the bank. That is my life. I love my life. Except, this season, it has been a little stressful.
I will explain. I had been hired as Mrs. Claus at a rather prestigious shopping area - The Greene. I had been Mrs. Claus there before in one of the stores: Von Maur. I was cast as Mrs. Claus for "Cookies and Stories with Mrs. Claus"...no Santa. This year, I was cast as Mrs. Claus with two different Santa's for the month. I would read stories, sing songs entertain children waiting to talk to the Chief. I had to arrive in my costume and depart in my costume. No Problem!
Yeah, right...
One Saturday (14th to be exact) I was to be Mrs. Claus at 2:15 until 4:30. It was my weekend for the children to stay with me. The TRIO - Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6 undoubtedly believe in Santa Claus. (Sh, so do I). I would be mud if I were to reveal my Christmas Season alter-ego! So, I phoned a friend (Suzanne) and recorded a voice mail: I would like to make a reservation at the Spear's costume storage, bath house and changing facility to transform from Mrs. Claus to ME before going home on Saturday, so the children don't see what I am doing. And, while I'm at it, I will leave the costume at your house, return after Church on Sunday and change, work, return and change. In other words, friend, you are to me as the phone booth is to Superman!" I then conned a friend into picking up the children. By the time they all got to the house, I was back, as me and it worked out so well.
Sunday was another story. We had festivities at Church and Sunday school. I had to serve at Mass. The children were with me, of course. I had to escape for a two hour Santa gig again! (12-2). So, I had a friend, deliver the following scenario that I created. "Hey! Kids! Why don't we ditch Meme" (that's may-may) "for a little while after Mass so that we can get her a present for Christmas? Then, we'll meet her later for lunch!" I am so clever, but it did drag an Episcopalian into the Catholic Mass for the morning to seem natural. He was going to take them to have a picture taken with Santa for me too! NOT AT THE GREENE! the trio loves intrigue, secrets, silliness and they bit - hook, line and sinker! So, after Mass, I stepped over the elderly and infirm, knocked over a multitude of children, raced like a lunatic out of Church (well, maybe not that frantic). I broke the speed of light an sound records to run into Suzanne's , change and get to the Greene! When Santa stood at 2 pm and announced that we had to go and feed the reindeer, I could not get out of there fast enough as I smiled, waved, jingled my bell wreath and blew kisses to the departing children! I plunged into my car and had it racing before I closed the door. I jumped the hurdle of Suzanne's cat, Frank (my favorite of her three cats and used to me schmoozing), undressed as I ran up the stairs to the room where I had left my clothes. I changed, brushed my hair (the wig is tough on bangs). Back in my car, as if auditioning for the i Indy 500, my Pirate Jig rattled my phone., "Meme! Are you home missing us? We're on our way and we're going to all have pizza there to watch a movie, okay? Smoothly, I said: "Oh good Tess! I've been waiting for you and wondering when you would be back! What are you up to?" She passed the word and the three were giggling because they apparently pulled something over on me!
As I innocently lounged on the couch, before the Trio came in, I had two thoughts about all of this:
1. I don't think that my grandmother was a quick change artist, speed demon (well, she didn't drive) and so slick. I doubt that she could have been so harmlessly deceptive. Could she have pulled this off? She was so calm, a lady, genteel. Would she be such a cracker jack as myself with hot pepper up her petootie? I don't think that I'm your Mama's Grandmother.
2. When I was a little girl, I was in awe of Santa. I would get so nervous/excited to approach and I was so mystified by just being in his presence. Mrs. Claus was not as prevalent when I was young, but, when the two of them did show up together, I found it magic! I was enchanted by such an amazing. loving, jolly couple. I am on the other side of the costume now, with a crazy life of drama, glitches tucked deeply into my petticoat. Do I impress children as I was impressed? Do they find me magical, enchanting?
In the meantime..."Shhh!!! You don't recognize me!"
Laura Macy Author & Actress
Friday, December 27, 2013
IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!!
Early in the morning of Saturday, December 7, I sat in the middle of a circle of Christmas "to do's". The Trio (grandchildren - Todd, 10; Tess, 9; Tanner, 6) were not going to be visiting for another week. So, I, leisurely in my jammies, sipped my coffee while I assessed the projects that surrounded me. Dreamily, I mentally listed: Christmas cookies to bake, tree to decorate, house to decorate, Christmas linens to excavate, purchase a fresh wreath for this year's edition ( I have done a new themes each year for...well, for as long as I could count down for my driver's license ), decorate the wreath, select which Gingerbread House to bake, construct and decorate. We don't mention shopping and wrapping. I began to plan my strategy as I drained the coffee pot.
And then...
My phone's ringtone is a Pirate Jig. That Cellular Wonder danced its way across the "war " table, while the music accompanied the choreography. I snatched the phone with my free hand, still clutching the coffee mug in the other. I connected, but remained mute because immediately: "Hi Meme!" (pronounced may-may) "We are coming over to spend the night now! Do you have your tree up? We'll do it for you if you don't. We'll find everything if you have it all put away still! Do you want me to do the wreath, the boys are not good at it. Well, maybe Tanner can help. No, let's not let him, he's a pest. Did you finish Pirouette's stocking?" (Pet Lizard). "I can help you sew the beads on it! Let's go to Steak N Shake for dinner and have family movie night! You always have popcorn, right? Do you have Taylor Ham for breakfast? I can help you bake cookies and we'll have fun! We have Sunday school, right? Didn't you say you bought a new dress for me? I'll wear that one tomorrow. We're packing! I love you! We'll meet you in Columbus!" (Half way between Zanesville, where they live and Kettering, where I live) Click!
What just happened? My reverie was shattered with Tess and her announcements. Really? Picking up children? When? As I considered returning the call for a time table, the Pirate Jig sounded loud and clear. "Hello?" Todd, with a shred of maturity, sort of: "Meme. We're coming over for the night. We'll meet you in Columbus at three o'clock Mommy said. Same place, Okay? Hey Meme, you have our Dorothy Lane Kid Club Cards don't you? Let's pick up our free cookies, meat, crackers, cheese, snacks that we can with cards, okay?" Tessie said we're going to Steak N Shake. I'm going to have a green shake with dinner. Gotta pack! I love you!" Click. So now, we would do some food shopping to take advantage of our Kid Club Cards, in addition to Tess' list of to do's.
Can you guess what happened next? Of course you can. The Pirate Jig repeated a few fancy steps. "Hello?" Tanner: "Meme! Tessie said that you and Tess will be busy getting ready for Christmas! I told her that Todd and I can help! Tessie said that I'm too little and he's too big!" Oh, and so it begins: "Tanner, put Tess on the phone." The next voice I heard was Todd: "Meme! Tess talked to you already! We are almost ready, but Mom is going to give us lunch first, because it's too far away from three o'clock." Oh boy. "Todd, put Tess on the phone whether I spoke to her already or not! I talked to you a minute ago too!" Finally: "Hi Meme!" I'm bringing my new black shoes to go with the new dress..." I was getting dizzy: "Tess, it's Christmas! Todd and Tanner can help us!" Tess: "Yeah, but Meme, they're stinky boys!"
I picked up the excited, holiday crazed trio on time. We kissed and hugged, happy to see each other. Bags were tossed into the trunk. Toby Keith, Jersey Boys, ABBA and the Village People dominated the disc player. Chatter, stories, outshouting each other. We were rocking!
We stopped at Dorothy Lane Market as soon as we got into town. We popped into Steak N Shake where we planned the evening, as if we were generals around a war strategy table. Todd selected a full, heavy wreath, Tess put it in the car and Tanner proudly paid the tree lot people for our treasure. We hustled home. As if I shook a tumbler of Parcheesi dice, the trio exploded into the house. They scattered to access the decorating task at hand. The boys found the ornaments. Tess bossed, Todd moved cartons and put them on a small dolly. Tanner bounced the boxes, bungeed onto the dolly, up the stairs proudly. Trip after trip! The house looked like a Christmas warehouse of chaos. They reminded me of three balloons that I blew up, forgot to tie off, let go as they deflated spinning and darting all over the room! Tess and Tanner sorted ornaments. Onto the lit, but un-decorated tree, Todd (balancing on a step stool, on tippy-toes) struggled to place the Angel on the top! So desperately did he want to do that. I gave him a boost. He He felt so special and proud. Ornaments were loaded onto the tree branches with amazing speed and efficiency. They sang Christmas Carols, stood back to admire their work, rearranged a few things and asked me to stretch and balance where they could not quite reach.
Other decorations were placed at their professional discretion. I placed silk poinsettias on various picture frames. I hung embroidered Christmas scenes that I had sewn and framed. We placed floating candles, Christmas candles everywhere. We decorated the bathroom, the two tall plants that look more like palm trees and are taller than I with lights and white and silver decorations. The children spread about their Christmas projects that they had made over the years and that I kept. We decorated the wreath in silver and white and hung it proudly on the door. The children thought it was funny when I decorated my witch's hat that is perched on my broom stick at the frond door with white poinsettias and white holly berries.
With the fireplace crackling, we sat back with hot chocolate, chattered "replays" of the evening and admired our work. As we snuggled on the couch and giggled, I knew that this would be a wonderful, happy Christmas. I was off to such a treasured start!
It's the most wonderful time of the year... whenever we're together!
And then...
My phone's ringtone is a Pirate Jig. That Cellular Wonder danced its way across the "war " table, while the music accompanied the choreography. I snatched the phone with my free hand, still clutching the coffee mug in the other. I connected, but remained mute because immediately: "Hi Meme!" (pronounced may-may) "We are coming over to spend the night now! Do you have your tree up? We'll do it for you if you don't. We'll find everything if you have it all put away still! Do you want me to do the wreath, the boys are not good at it. Well, maybe Tanner can help. No, let's not let him, he's a pest. Did you finish Pirouette's stocking?" (Pet Lizard). "I can help you sew the beads on it! Let's go to Steak N Shake for dinner and have family movie night! You always have popcorn, right? Do you have Taylor Ham for breakfast? I can help you bake cookies and we'll have fun! We have Sunday school, right? Didn't you say you bought a new dress for me? I'll wear that one tomorrow. We're packing! I love you! We'll meet you in Columbus!" (Half way between Zanesville, where they live and Kettering, where I live) Click!
What just happened? My reverie was shattered with Tess and her announcements. Really? Picking up children? When? As I considered returning the call for a time table, the Pirate Jig sounded loud and clear. "Hello?" Todd, with a shred of maturity, sort of: "Meme. We're coming over for the night. We'll meet you in Columbus at three o'clock Mommy said. Same place, Okay? Hey Meme, you have our Dorothy Lane Kid Club Cards don't you? Let's pick up our free cookies, meat, crackers, cheese, snacks that we can with cards, okay?" Tessie said we're going to Steak N Shake. I'm going to have a green shake with dinner. Gotta pack! I love you!" Click. So now, we would do some food shopping to take advantage of our Kid Club Cards, in addition to Tess' list of to do's.
Can you guess what happened next? Of course you can. The Pirate Jig repeated a few fancy steps. "Hello?" Tanner: "Meme! Tessie said that you and Tess will be busy getting ready for Christmas! I told her that Todd and I can help! Tessie said that I'm too little and he's too big!" Oh, and so it begins: "Tanner, put Tess on the phone." The next voice I heard was Todd: "Meme! Tess talked to you already! We are almost ready, but Mom is going to give us lunch first, because it's too far away from three o'clock." Oh boy. "Todd, put Tess on the phone whether I spoke to her already or not! I talked to you a minute ago too!" Finally: "Hi Meme!" I'm bringing my new black shoes to go with the new dress..." I was getting dizzy: "Tess, it's Christmas! Todd and Tanner can help us!" Tess: "Yeah, but Meme, they're stinky boys!"
I picked up the excited, holiday crazed trio on time. We kissed and hugged, happy to see each other. Bags were tossed into the trunk. Toby Keith, Jersey Boys, ABBA and the Village People dominated the disc player. Chatter, stories, outshouting each other. We were rocking!
We stopped at Dorothy Lane Market as soon as we got into town. We popped into Steak N Shake where we planned the evening, as if we were generals around a war strategy table. Todd selected a full, heavy wreath, Tess put it in the car and Tanner proudly paid the tree lot people for our treasure. We hustled home. As if I shook a tumbler of Parcheesi dice, the trio exploded into the house. They scattered to access the decorating task at hand. The boys found the ornaments. Tess bossed, Todd moved cartons and put them on a small dolly. Tanner bounced the boxes, bungeed onto the dolly, up the stairs proudly. Trip after trip! The house looked like a Christmas warehouse of chaos. They reminded me of three balloons that I blew up, forgot to tie off, let go as they deflated spinning and darting all over the room! Tess and Tanner sorted ornaments. Onto the lit, but un-decorated tree, Todd (balancing on a step stool, on tippy-toes) struggled to place the Angel on the top! So desperately did he want to do that. I gave him a boost. He He felt so special and proud. Ornaments were loaded onto the tree branches with amazing speed and efficiency. They sang Christmas Carols, stood back to admire their work, rearranged a few things and asked me to stretch and balance where they could not quite reach.
Other decorations were placed at their professional discretion. I placed silk poinsettias on various picture frames. I hung embroidered Christmas scenes that I had sewn and framed. We placed floating candles, Christmas candles everywhere. We decorated the bathroom, the two tall plants that look more like palm trees and are taller than I with lights and white and silver decorations. The children spread about their Christmas projects that they had made over the years and that I kept. We decorated the wreath in silver and white and hung it proudly on the door. The children thought it was funny when I decorated my witch's hat that is perched on my broom stick at the frond door with white poinsettias and white holly berries.
With the fireplace crackling, we sat back with hot chocolate, chattered "replays" of the evening and admired our work. As we snuggled on the couch and giggled, I knew that this would be a wonderful, happy Christmas. I was off to such a treasured start!
It's the most wonderful time of the year... whenever we're together!
Saturday, November 30, 2013
OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS (Well, Into the Kitchen and Through the Living Room)
I was sad that the Trio (grandchildren: Todd, 10; Tess 9; Tanner, 6) and their Mom (Tiffany, my daughter), would be in Florida for Thanksgiving. I decided that I was going to go home for the holiday. My spirits were elevated upon recalling the "Thanksgiving Song" that I learned so long ago. Nick, my son, was going to go with me. Road Trip! My parents even said that his friend and her daughter were welcome to join us! My niece, Victoria, requested that I make a "Candy Bar Pie" that she likes. Mom and Dad were a little queasy about that...My sister and I have learned: 1/ Don't touch anything in their kitchen; and 2. Bring nothing into their kitchen or to their table., So, my sister and I cooked up an elaborate plan whereby, I would make the Candy Bar Pie in Ohio, keep it still and protected in the cold trunk of my car and drive it to New Jersey. We would then make off with plastic forks, napkins, transfer it directly into her car from my trunk. Victoria, Donna and I would then drive around Packanack Lake and eat pie while Nick unloaded my car, without the Honeymooners catching us. In spite of the fact that my Dad still wonders if I will ever get a job and considers me "wacky" at best, I, for some reason, was looking forward to the family holiday. "Over the River and Through the Woods" with a Candy Bar Pie and my son...Who could ask for anything more?
BUT
Two weeks before the intended trip, Nick bowed out. "Mom, let's do Thanksgiving on Sunday, when you get back, okay? I can't be gone long, blah, blah, blah, ah- ha and so on and so forth."
I made plans to see a friend, continue with Thanksgiving at The Honeymooners'. On Black Friday, Donna and I were going to do all sorts of sisterly things. Candy Bar Pie and I were going to New Jersey for Thanksgiving!
BUT
One week before the intended trip, the weather forecast was miserable. I would be riding in a storm across Pennsylvania on the way to New Jersey and on the way back. No break in sight. It would storm while I was there. The prospect of driving ten to twelve hours alone, half in the dark...not so appealing. Donna said, "It's not a good idea to drive by yourself in bad weather, etc. I'll tell Mom for you. You know Dad will freak if you are out there in a storm by yourself!" I did put on my big girl panties though and called home: "Mom, Donna and I were talking and..." Mom, cut me right off: "Are you trying to upset Daddy? What is the matter with you thinking that you'll drive in horrific weather all alone? STAY HOME and BE SAFE!" That was easy. I called Donna and told her not to call home, I already did. My phone, with a Pirate's Jig ringtone, by the way, went off immediately after I spoke with my sister. It was Dad. "You are so wacky! Why would you put yourself at risk driving here in a storm by yourself? STAY HOME and BE SAFE!" Me: "Dad, I talked to Donna about it and to Mom, we all already decided that we'll see how Christmas week is. Okay?" He agreed and questioned when I will get a job and questioned my Candy Bar Pie intention. I assured him that I am looking for a Literary Agent, I did two commercials and that no Candy Bar Pie will cross the border into Jersey any time too soon. If it did, it would not seek entry into his domicile. Whew!
I told a friend (Jersey Side) about my dilemma. He said, "Book a flight, I'll pay half". Just tell your sister that I want to taste that Candy Bar Pie! You can make it at my house, since you can't board a plane with a Candy Bar Pie!" I heard that the airlines were going to have weather problems, but, I gave it a shot anyway. Then I remembered: I had a ticket for a flight from Dayton to Newark Airport dated last December 1! I knew that I had a year to use it. November 21 was plenty of time before December 1. So, I phoned United Airlines. "Sorry Laura, may I call you Laura? You are one day late. That ticket was purchased on November 20. You should have called us yesterday and we could have circumvented the weather and gotten you home. You had a year from PURCHASE DATE, not FLIGHT DATE. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
The next call I made was to my son: "Hey Nick, come over on Thanksgiving for dinner on Thursday, not Sunday. I'm not going." Nick: "Great! I'll do the turkey, stuffing and the gravy. I'll bring the camera. We can use some of the photos in our cookbook. We'll go through the menu later. I love your pies! That'll be all your department. I think the Candy Bar Pie sounds interesting, but Mom, it's Thanksgiving. Save that idea for Jersey, not me! Gotta go!" Click.
My phone was getting HOT and BUSY doing it's jig all over the place. Guest list growing, weather predictions even worse and 1,000,000 of my closest friends called to tell me travel plans were OVER...Sure they would love to come to my place. Then, my friend phoned. I told him about the rogue ticket, that I didn't have half of the national budget for a small Third World country. He said: "Let me get off of the phone now and I'll just get you a flight." I hastened to tell him that now, I had my Son, half of Tipp City and Kettering, part of Oakwood coming over.
My son and the immediate world ushered in Thanksgiving Day. He and I worked side by side in the kitchen. We cooked, danced (1,000 top hits of all time on a New York Station that he had broadcasting on his "Smarter than I'll ever be phone). As we engaged in a lively conversation about glazing carrots, Lisa walked in and immediately pivoted and exited the kitchen announcing to the living room guests: "They're talking food, I'm outta there!"
Finally, as the fireplace roared with warmth, we took places at a table that stretched from Kettering, Ohio to Wayne, New Jersey. I looked around as Lisa did a blessing. I felt my grandparents, my parents, sister, niece and nephew. I missed the Trio, but silently sent my embrace. As my Son and I exchanged a glance, I knew that the path to love radiates from within us. We are all each others' Thanksgiving.
So, into the kitchen and through the living room we laughed, danced, played, ate without any Candy Bar Pie!
BUT
Two weeks before the intended trip, Nick bowed out. "Mom, let's do Thanksgiving on Sunday, when you get back, okay? I can't be gone long, blah, blah, blah, ah- ha and so on and so forth."
I made plans to see a friend, continue with Thanksgiving at The Honeymooners'. On Black Friday, Donna and I were going to do all sorts of sisterly things. Candy Bar Pie and I were going to New Jersey for Thanksgiving!
BUT
One week before the intended trip, the weather forecast was miserable. I would be riding in a storm across Pennsylvania on the way to New Jersey and on the way back. No break in sight. It would storm while I was there. The prospect of driving ten to twelve hours alone, half in the dark...not so appealing. Donna said, "It's not a good idea to drive by yourself in bad weather, etc. I'll tell Mom for you. You know Dad will freak if you are out there in a storm by yourself!" I did put on my big girl panties though and called home: "Mom, Donna and I were talking and..." Mom, cut me right off: "Are you trying to upset Daddy? What is the matter with you thinking that you'll drive in horrific weather all alone? STAY HOME and BE SAFE!" That was easy. I called Donna and told her not to call home, I already did. My phone, with a Pirate's Jig ringtone, by the way, went off immediately after I spoke with my sister. It was Dad. "You are so wacky! Why would you put yourself at risk driving here in a storm by yourself? STAY HOME and BE SAFE!" Me: "Dad, I talked to Donna about it and to Mom, we all already decided that we'll see how Christmas week is. Okay?" He agreed and questioned when I will get a job and questioned my Candy Bar Pie intention. I assured him that I am looking for a Literary Agent, I did two commercials and that no Candy Bar Pie will cross the border into Jersey any time too soon. If it did, it would not seek entry into his domicile. Whew!
I told a friend (Jersey Side) about my dilemma. He said, "Book a flight, I'll pay half". Just tell your sister that I want to taste that Candy Bar Pie! You can make it at my house, since you can't board a plane with a Candy Bar Pie!" I heard that the airlines were going to have weather problems, but, I gave it a shot anyway. Then I remembered: I had a ticket for a flight from Dayton to Newark Airport dated last December 1! I knew that I had a year to use it. November 21 was plenty of time before December 1. So, I phoned United Airlines. "Sorry Laura, may I call you Laura? You are one day late. That ticket was purchased on November 20. You should have called us yesterday and we could have circumvented the weather and gotten you home. You had a year from PURCHASE DATE, not FLIGHT DATE. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
The next call I made was to my son: "Hey Nick, come over on Thanksgiving for dinner on Thursday, not Sunday. I'm not going." Nick: "Great! I'll do the turkey, stuffing and the gravy. I'll bring the camera. We can use some of the photos in our cookbook. We'll go through the menu later. I love your pies! That'll be all your department. I think the Candy Bar Pie sounds interesting, but Mom, it's Thanksgiving. Save that idea for Jersey, not me! Gotta go!" Click.
My phone was getting HOT and BUSY doing it's jig all over the place. Guest list growing, weather predictions even worse and 1,000,000 of my closest friends called to tell me travel plans were OVER...Sure they would love to come to my place. Then, my friend phoned. I told him about the rogue ticket, that I didn't have half of the national budget for a small Third World country. He said: "Let me get off of the phone now and I'll just get you a flight." I hastened to tell him that now, I had my Son, half of Tipp City and Kettering, part of Oakwood coming over.
My son and the immediate world ushered in Thanksgiving Day. He and I worked side by side in the kitchen. We cooked, danced (1,000 top hits of all time on a New York Station that he had broadcasting on his "Smarter than I'll ever be phone). As we engaged in a lively conversation about glazing carrots, Lisa walked in and immediately pivoted and exited the kitchen announcing to the living room guests: "They're talking food, I'm outta there!"
Finally, as the fireplace roared with warmth, we took places at a table that stretched from Kettering, Ohio to Wayne, New Jersey. I looked around as Lisa did a blessing. I felt my grandparents, my parents, sister, niece and nephew. I missed the Trio, but silently sent my embrace. As my Son and I exchanged a glance, I knew that the path to love radiates from within us. We are all each others' Thanksgiving.
So, into the kitchen and through the living room we laughed, danced, played, ate without any Candy Bar Pie!
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
READY FOR MY CLOSE-UP... OR NOT
After Labor Day, there is a serious season of decision making. Children begin to investigate their inner core of fantasy. Simply put: "What should we be for Halloween?" Discussing Halloween is an intense business if you are the ages of my trio: ten, eight and six years old. Tess decided, after I reminded her of the thirty pound cowgirl costume which took me weeks of hand beading, sequining, fringing, worn for three and a half minutes singing "American Honey, that she would be a cowgirl. The white hat with pink trim was perfect and the pink boots with white stitching fit as if they were molded on her dainty little cowgirl feet. So, Tess was signed, sealed and delivered: Halloween of 2013 would find a pink and white, overly decorated cowgirl!
Todd told me that he and Tanner would be WWE wrestlers. Hmm. Sol I tried to determine how I would transform two little boys (ten and six) into strapping, bulky, wrestlers. The champion belt alone would weigh more than the two of them put together with me on their shoulders. Oh, well, that's what grandmothers do...figure out the impossible.
One morning, Tiffany, my daughter, the trio's Mom and "delegater extraordinaire" phoned and said that after school, Todd would phone with some homework because she was at her wit's end and maybe I could coach him in spelling, vocabulary and grammar. Fourth Grade does not intimidate me, so I said, "I'd love to. Have him call me immediately after school."
At four o'clock, in the afternoon of the same day, my phone rang. (Well, actually, it sings a jaunty Pirate tune). "Hey Meme! (may-may) What's new?" I simply responded: "Hey Todd! Not much. Let's get to work!" I heard a little bit of "clicking" in the background. "Okay, Meme. Go to Jinx.com right away!" I was a little confused, but said, "Todd, are we doing our homework on the computer? That's so grown up." Tiff picked up the extension in their house: "Todd, are you on the phone with Meme?" I responded, "Yep! I'm here!" Tiff: "Good boy! We'll get all of this done with Meme and we'll get to Cub Scouts on time. I'll leave you two." So, Tiffany hung up secure in the knowledge that Todd and I were hard at work. But at what?
"Meme, "Steve is going fast! We've got to order right now!" Now, I checked my GPS. Did I fall into the rabbit hole on my way to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party? "Whoa! Wait a minute Todd, what we we doing?" Finally, the fog was lifted: "Meme! I want to be "Steve" from "Minecraft" this year for Halloween! I have the blue shirt and jeans, but I need the head, ax, sword and torch! We have to get on this right away!" So, I logged on to Jinx.com. "Steve" was back ordered! "Todd, if this doesn't come in right away, you might not have the head (which looked like a cube block head to me) in time for the party at the Philharmonic on the 20th (of October, if you please) and then Halloween! Let me figure this out." Tiff picked up the extension again: "Todd, how is it going? Call Meme back after dinner and let's get moving, or you will not get to Cub Scouts." She disconnected again. "Todd, go have dinner, I'll have this resolved by the time you call me back." I, not said, but prayed. Now, rather frantically, the little voice came marching through the phone: "Meme! I need the head, the ax, the sword and the torch! What if you forget?" I knew the "must have" list already. "Todd, go eat dinner, I'll find the head, the ax, the sword and the torch!"
When Todd returned from Scouts that evening, I had a confirmation from Amazon.com for the head, the ax the sword and from Jinx.com for the torch! I, resting on my laurels thought that I did wonderfully. My Pirate jig startled me. I answered, "Hello?" Todd: "Hey Meme! I'm home. What happened?" Smugly, as I gave myself "atta girls", I responded: "Todd, by next Monday, you will have a "Steve" head, an ax a sword and by Tuesday, you will have a torch! You are "Minecraft"! Now, what about your spelling and whatever else?" A yawn crawled through the tunnel of communication" "Meme, I'm tired. Thank you so much for my costume. I'll call you back about my work before I go to school. Good night, Meme. I love you."
At 7:30 A.M. , the next morning, guess what woke me up? Never mind, you know: "Hey Meme! Tanner can't be a wrestler now, Tess is going to tell him to be a cowboy so that they match!" With no coffee in me yet and still foggy, I replied: "Okay, Todd, I'll talk to Tanner, how about your school work?" With the speed of "Lightning McQueen", Todd and I went over spelling words, a few grammar rules, "Thank you, Meme, I love you Meme, this will be the best Halloween ever meme and , here talk to Tanner! Tiffany picked up the extension at this point. "Good boy, Todd, to go over your work before you get on the bus! You and Meme have been working hard!" Oh boy,really? Tanner then took the phone as Tiffany hung up. "Meme, Tess wants me to be a cowboy for Halloween." I responded: "Tanner, that's so cool! Remember, at your Kindergarten graduation last spring, you said that you wanted to grow up to be a cowboy? I think that your cowboy boots might still fit you and you have a hat. I'll go to the fabric store today to come up with the fabric or suede for the most amazing chaps..." and so I went on and on.
The school bus made away with the trio and within a minute, Tiffany phoned. "Wow, Mom, you had Todd really going over his school work! That worked out so well! Todd does wonders with you!" Ah-ha, sure. I finished a pot of coffee by then, but I just didn't have the courage to tell her that we worked on Halloween, not spelling, or vocabulary, or grammar so much.
Each day, for a week, Todd phoned to get an update as I tracked his "orders". Tiffany was thrilled that Todd was so focused on his homework. Eventually, I did squeeze in the fact that Todd was now going to be "Steve" from "Minecraft" and that Tanner was going along with Tess as a cowboy. Tiff reminded me that the boys needed their costumes for the Cub Scout party on the 24th. I reminded Tiff that all three had to be in gear on the 20th for the Philharmonster at the Schuster Center. The "Philharmonster" is an annual family concert and party that the Dayton Philharmonic presents each year for Halloween. Their Uncle Nick (my son, her brother) who works for the Philharmonic, obtained the tickets.
I relaxed for a week. Todd's costume parts arrived. Tess' outfit was perfect. My progress was so precise that all I had to do was pin a sheriff's badge on the cowboy vest and we could rock Halloween. Well, my false security was shattered with a 7 A,M, phone call: "Hello?" I barely croaked into the phone. "Meme! We have a Halloween crisis here!" Todd was frantic. Tanner was crying in the background. My eyes were still at half-mast as I groped my way to the coffee pot. "What are you doing now Meme?" Really? "Well, Todd, I'm talking to you now, but I was sl....." Quickly, a ten year old negotiator replied: "Oh, good, you're awake! Tanner doesn't want to be a cowboy! He's all upset and said that this will be the worse Halloween ever! Meme! Tanner wants to be a clown!" Now, I was on high alert! I had two days until "Philharmonster", a cowboy costume hanging on a hook, a crying six year old, a bossy eight year old trying to tell the upset former cowboy, "How about a rodeo clown?" but Todd would handle it and the Halloween coordinator issuing me revised marching orders: "Meme, I told Tanner that you can make a clown! Remember, you have a clown wig, right? So his costume is almost done!" Okay, readers, how many grandmothers sport their own clown wigs? I think I'm standing in a circle, the only one raising her hand. Then, Tiff picked up the extension: "Todd, are you and Meme doing your spelling words? Let's go, you are all going to miss the bus! I'll talk to you later Mom."
There were a few things that I had to do that day. With one virtual motion of my arm sweeping across a virtual war table of Halloween strategy, I cleared everything away except the Clown Costume Campaign. Tiff phoned as I was mounting my ride to swoop into the local fabric store for a pattern and fabric. "Mom, I heard as the bus pulled up. Don't stress the clown costume, I'll check a costume store and buy one." Hmmm. Just for fun, I checked the closest fabric store for a pattern...just in case. Oh, no, no, no...no clown costume pattern for a little boy. There were plenty of clown costume patterns for an extra large man. As I slowly shuffled pensively out of the fabric store, my happy Pirate jig alerted me that I had a call. "Hey Mom! There are no clown costumes for Tanner! There is a really large one, but, I don't think that it can be altered that much!" Oh nuts. Now what? "Tiff, I'll check around here...don't worry." Yeah sure.
On my way to a second fabric store, I passed three costume shops. On my way to a second fabric store, I entered, made clown costume inquiries and was rejected by three costume shops. The day was coming to a close. With only one day left between "Philharmonster", I was beginning to become, to put it gently, worried, hysterical, panicked. The only clown costume pattern was an "Adult Small". The fabric that I found for the body of the costume was so happy, perfect! At the cutting table I was number 68...number 43 was being served. There was barely enough on the bolt, but I took whatever was available.
Darkness was falling by the time I brought home the too over sized pattern and the under sized fabric. Do I have to tell you? My phone did it's jaunty jig. "Meme!" I guess you know that Todd was coming through, loud and clear. "Did you finish Tanner's clown costume? He's a little worried and he's driving me crazy! I told him that you were almost done by now." I assured him that "Operation Clown" was in the works. Tanner took the phone. "Meme, did you finish my costume yet?" Frankly, I took another sip (who am I kidding - another gulp) of wine and with great confidence, I said, "Not quite pumpkin. But, I found my wig and I picked up a nose in my travels today!" He giggled and then Tiffany picked up the extension. "The children don't have homework this weekend. I'll call you when we are leaving tomorrow (after a Cub Scout Camp Day, thank goodness) and we'll meet you with the children!" (Zanesville -where the trio reside and Kettering, costume central are two hours apart. We meet in Columbus, half way between the two to exchange children.) Are you telling meme all about tomorrow's Cub Scout camp day? Don't forget to tell us about school and how well you did!" And so, from Tiff, I heard a disconnecting click. Oh, I wish I had as clear a head as Tiff. She had no stress, thought that the children and I had been chatting up school and scouts. Personally, I felt as if there was a hatchet snugly planted in my head to fill it. I drained my glass, dug through my costume paraphernalia and found my rainbow clown wit. Yes, I know. Not many grandmothers have a hot and cold running supply of crazy things like wigs, mustaches, nutty costumes and a complete polka dot wardrobe from Darla Darling TV days!. But, I remind you, I'm not your Mama's Grandma.
With dawn, on the day before "Philharmonster", I launched "Clown Costume Campaign". I cut down the pattern. I sewed like the wind. Having forgotten about the collar and just barely having enough fabric for the jumpsuit portion of the costume, I took apart a polka dot "Darla Darling" costume whose colors coordinated so well with what I had bought. As I sewed the last pom-pom onto the body of the costume, my Pirate Jig rattled my phone. "Okay Mom, we're heading your way...see you in an hour!" With a sigh of relief, I responded, "Okay, Tiff, I'm heading yours!"
Tanner looked adorable. Tess was a cowgirl with attitude and style. Todd loved his accessories and was so proud that he had engineered Halloween for his siblings. But, the problem was that block head. The "Steve" head was cumbersome, awkward, sight was difficult. He was so happy that he coordinated logistics and costuming. Though he, himself, was in an extremely popular character costume , he was not feeling the love as one with "Steve". His two best friends, we learned were "Steve"...Max in Centerville and Chris in Zanesville, but still...
We entered the Schuster Center. The festivities began! Steve, cowgirl and Clown! There was a coloring station. There was a craft station. There was an "instrument petting zoo". Musicians were also costumed and mingled with the party revelers before the performance. "Solly" handed out candy. "Mario Cart" tooled through the crowd. (both string players) There was a costume contest. All three of my '"Halloweenies" were to line up in different categories. Tanner enthusiastically pranced into his group and began chatting with other children. I placed Tess in her group. She, also, never met a stranger and felt so confident. I had a suddenly shy "Steve". One just keep in mind that the children are used to traveling, moving around with me. Occasionally, I am recognized from my work on various television shows and movie roles that I have had. The children themselves have been recognized as "The Darling Children" from my "Darla Darling" shows. We have become accustomed to people approaching me. A young woman approached me as I stood with Todd/Steve. Well, I thought that she approached me. She then exclaimed, "Oh, I am such a big fan! My friend has a camera, please, could I have my picture taken with you?" I flashed a smile. I thought, has to be from "Soprano" days, or maybe "Darla Darling". As I graciously began to step forward, and Todd slightly back, she advanced and stood next to Todd., put her arm around him, block head and all, and said, "I just love Minecraft! I can't believe how realistic your costume is! You are Steve!" I could see the beam emit from under the Steve head! Hey! That get up cost me what a two year budget would be for a small South American country! It should be the "real deal"! Other patrons of the arts then stopped for a photo op. Todd became confident, relaxed, totally comfortable in his 'Minecraft" skin!
The performance was absolutely fantastic. I encourage any readers to make a point of coming to Dayton next Halloween season for a new edition of "Philharmonster". Uncle Nick and the children had fun. (Of course they are still laughing that Meme was not the star/twinkle/wink.) All I needed, and received was the Halloween planner/negotiator's proud voice: "Hey Meme! Isn't it funny, they wanted my picture, not you this time? Meme, I love my costume, Tanner is happy and kinda cute. Tess' is the best cowgirl! You know Meme...this is going to be the best Halloween ever!"
You know, Todd, when we snuggle, nose to nose and I look into those gorgeous blue smiling eyes...that's the best close-up ever!
Todd told me that he and Tanner would be WWE wrestlers. Hmm. Sol I tried to determine how I would transform two little boys (ten and six) into strapping, bulky, wrestlers. The champion belt alone would weigh more than the two of them put together with me on their shoulders. Oh, well, that's what grandmothers do...figure out the impossible.
One morning, Tiffany, my daughter, the trio's Mom and "delegater extraordinaire" phoned and said that after school, Todd would phone with some homework because she was at her wit's end and maybe I could coach him in spelling, vocabulary and grammar. Fourth Grade does not intimidate me, so I said, "I'd love to. Have him call me immediately after school."
At four o'clock, in the afternoon of the same day, my phone rang. (Well, actually, it sings a jaunty Pirate tune). "Hey Meme! (may-may) What's new?" I simply responded: "Hey Todd! Not much. Let's get to work!" I heard a little bit of "clicking" in the background. "Okay, Meme. Go to Jinx.com right away!" I was a little confused, but said, "Todd, are we doing our homework on the computer? That's so grown up." Tiff picked up the extension in their house: "Todd, are you on the phone with Meme?" I responded, "Yep! I'm here!" Tiff: "Good boy! We'll get all of this done with Meme and we'll get to Cub Scouts on time. I'll leave you two." So, Tiffany hung up secure in the knowledge that Todd and I were hard at work. But at what?
"Meme, "Steve is going fast! We've got to order right now!" Now, I checked my GPS. Did I fall into the rabbit hole on my way to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party? "Whoa! Wait a minute Todd, what we we doing?" Finally, the fog was lifted: "Meme! I want to be "Steve" from "Minecraft" this year for Halloween! I have the blue shirt and jeans, but I need the head, ax, sword and torch! We have to get on this right away!" So, I logged on to Jinx.com. "Steve" was back ordered! "Todd, if this doesn't come in right away, you might not have the head (which looked like a cube block head to me) in time for the party at the Philharmonic on the 20th (of October, if you please) and then Halloween! Let me figure this out." Tiff picked up the extension again: "Todd, how is it going? Call Meme back after dinner and let's get moving, or you will not get to Cub Scouts." She disconnected again. "Todd, go have dinner, I'll have this resolved by the time you call me back." I, not said, but prayed. Now, rather frantically, the little voice came marching through the phone: "Meme! I need the head, the ax, the sword and the torch! What if you forget?" I knew the "must have" list already. "Todd, go eat dinner, I'll find the head, the ax, the sword and the torch!"
When Todd returned from Scouts that evening, I had a confirmation from Amazon.com for the head, the ax the sword and from Jinx.com for the torch! I, resting on my laurels thought that I did wonderfully. My Pirate jig startled me. I answered, "Hello?" Todd: "Hey Meme! I'm home. What happened?" Smugly, as I gave myself "atta girls", I responded: "Todd, by next Monday, you will have a "Steve" head, an ax a sword and by Tuesday, you will have a torch! You are "Minecraft"! Now, what about your spelling and whatever else?" A yawn crawled through the tunnel of communication" "Meme, I'm tired. Thank you so much for my costume. I'll call you back about my work before I go to school. Good night, Meme. I love you."
At 7:30 A.M. , the next morning, guess what woke me up? Never mind, you know: "Hey Meme! Tanner can't be a wrestler now, Tess is going to tell him to be a cowboy so that they match!" With no coffee in me yet and still foggy, I replied: "Okay, Todd, I'll talk to Tanner, how about your school work?" With the speed of "Lightning McQueen", Todd and I went over spelling words, a few grammar rules, "Thank you, Meme, I love you Meme, this will be the best Halloween ever meme and , here talk to Tanner! Tiffany picked up the extension at this point. "Good boy, Todd, to go over your work before you get on the bus! You and Meme have been working hard!" Oh boy,really? Tanner then took the phone as Tiffany hung up. "Meme, Tess wants me to be a cowboy for Halloween." I responded: "Tanner, that's so cool! Remember, at your Kindergarten graduation last spring, you said that you wanted to grow up to be a cowboy? I think that your cowboy boots might still fit you and you have a hat. I'll go to the fabric store today to come up with the fabric or suede for the most amazing chaps..." and so I went on and on.
The school bus made away with the trio and within a minute, Tiffany phoned. "Wow, Mom, you had Todd really going over his school work! That worked out so well! Todd does wonders with you!" Ah-ha, sure. I finished a pot of coffee by then, but I just didn't have the courage to tell her that we worked on Halloween, not spelling, or vocabulary, or grammar so much.
Each day, for a week, Todd phoned to get an update as I tracked his "orders". Tiffany was thrilled that Todd was so focused on his homework. Eventually, I did squeeze in the fact that Todd was now going to be "Steve" from "Minecraft" and that Tanner was going along with Tess as a cowboy. Tiff reminded me that the boys needed their costumes for the Cub Scout party on the 24th. I reminded Tiff that all three had to be in gear on the 20th for the Philharmonster at the Schuster Center. The "Philharmonster" is an annual family concert and party that the Dayton Philharmonic presents each year for Halloween. Their Uncle Nick (my son, her brother) who works for the Philharmonic, obtained the tickets.
I relaxed for a week. Todd's costume parts arrived. Tess' outfit was perfect. My progress was so precise that all I had to do was pin a sheriff's badge on the cowboy vest and we could rock Halloween. Well, my false security was shattered with a 7 A,M, phone call: "Hello?" I barely croaked into the phone. "Meme! We have a Halloween crisis here!" Todd was frantic. Tanner was crying in the background. My eyes were still at half-mast as I groped my way to the coffee pot. "What are you doing now Meme?" Really? "Well, Todd, I'm talking to you now, but I was sl....." Quickly, a ten year old negotiator replied: "Oh, good, you're awake! Tanner doesn't want to be a cowboy! He's all upset and said that this will be the worse Halloween ever! Meme! Tanner wants to be a clown!" Now, I was on high alert! I had two days until "Philharmonster", a cowboy costume hanging on a hook, a crying six year old, a bossy eight year old trying to tell the upset former cowboy, "How about a rodeo clown?" but Todd would handle it and the Halloween coordinator issuing me revised marching orders: "Meme, I told Tanner that you can make a clown! Remember, you have a clown wig, right? So his costume is almost done!" Okay, readers, how many grandmothers sport their own clown wigs? I think I'm standing in a circle, the only one raising her hand. Then, Tiff picked up the extension: "Todd, are you and Meme doing your spelling words? Let's go, you are all going to miss the bus! I'll talk to you later Mom."
There were a few things that I had to do that day. With one virtual motion of my arm sweeping across a virtual war table of Halloween strategy, I cleared everything away except the Clown Costume Campaign. Tiff phoned as I was mounting my ride to swoop into the local fabric store for a pattern and fabric. "Mom, I heard as the bus pulled up. Don't stress the clown costume, I'll check a costume store and buy one." Hmmm. Just for fun, I checked the closest fabric store for a pattern...just in case. Oh, no, no, no...no clown costume pattern for a little boy. There were plenty of clown costume patterns for an extra large man. As I slowly shuffled pensively out of the fabric store, my happy Pirate jig alerted me that I had a call. "Hey Mom! There are no clown costumes for Tanner! There is a really large one, but, I don't think that it can be altered that much!" Oh nuts. Now what? "Tiff, I'll check around here...don't worry." Yeah sure.
On my way to a second fabric store, I passed three costume shops. On my way to a second fabric store, I entered, made clown costume inquiries and was rejected by three costume shops. The day was coming to a close. With only one day left between "Philharmonster", I was beginning to become, to put it gently, worried, hysterical, panicked. The only clown costume pattern was an "Adult Small". The fabric that I found for the body of the costume was so happy, perfect! At the cutting table I was number 68...number 43 was being served. There was barely enough on the bolt, but I took whatever was available.
Darkness was falling by the time I brought home the too over sized pattern and the under sized fabric. Do I have to tell you? My phone did it's jaunty jig. "Meme!" I guess you know that Todd was coming through, loud and clear. "Did you finish Tanner's clown costume? He's a little worried and he's driving me crazy! I told him that you were almost done by now." I assured him that "Operation Clown" was in the works. Tanner took the phone. "Meme, did you finish my costume yet?" Frankly, I took another sip (who am I kidding - another gulp) of wine and with great confidence, I said, "Not quite pumpkin. But, I found my wig and I picked up a nose in my travels today!" He giggled and then Tiffany picked up the extension. "The children don't have homework this weekend. I'll call you when we are leaving tomorrow (after a Cub Scout Camp Day, thank goodness) and we'll meet you with the children!" (Zanesville -where the trio reside and Kettering, costume central are two hours apart. We meet in Columbus, half way between the two to exchange children.) Are you telling meme all about tomorrow's Cub Scout camp day? Don't forget to tell us about school and how well you did!" And so, from Tiff, I heard a disconnecting click. Oh, I wish I had as clear a head as Tiff. She had no stress, thought that the children and I had been chatting up school and scouts. Personally, I felt as if there was a hatchet snugly planted in my head to fill it. I drained my glass, dug through my costume paraphernalia and found my rainbow clown wit. Yes, I know. Not many grandmothers have a hot and cold running supply of crazy things like wigs, mustaches, nutty costumes and a complete polka dot wardrobe from Darla Darling TV days!. But, I remind you, I'm not your Mama's Grandma.
With dawn, on the day before "Philharmonster", I launched "Clown Costume Campaign". I cut down the pattern. I sewed like the wind. Having forgotten about the collar and just barely having enough fabric for the jumpsuit portion of the costume, I took apart a polka dot "Darla Darling" costume whose colors coordinated so well with what I had bought. As I sewed the last pom-pom onto the body of the costume, my Pirate Jig rattled my phone. "Okay Mom, we're heading your way...see you in an hour!" With a sigh of relief, I responded, "Okay, Tiff, I'm heading yours!"
Tanner looked adorable. Tess was a cowgirl with attitude and style. Todd loved his accessories and was so proud that he had engineered Halloween for his siblings. But, the problem was that block head. The "Steve" head was cumbersome, awkward, sight was difficult. He was so happy that he coordinated logistics and costuming. Though he, himself, was in an extremely popular character costume , he was not feeling the love as one with "Steve". His two best friends, we learned were "Steve"...Max in Centerville and Chris in Zanesville, but still...
We entered the Schuster Center. The festivities began! Steve, cowgirl and Clown! There was a coloring station. There was a craft station. There was an "instrument petting zoo". Musicians were also costumed and mingled with the party revelers before the performance. "Solly" handed out candy. "Mario Cart" tooled through the crowd. (both string players) There was a costume contest. All three of my '"Halloweenies" were to line up in different categories. Tanner enthusiastically pranced into his group and began chatting with other children. I placed Tess in her group. She, also, never met a stranger and felt so confident. I had a suddenly shy "Steve". One just keep in mind that the children are used to traveling, moving around with me. Occasionally, I am recognized from my work on various television shows and movie roles that I have had. The children themselves have been recognized as "The Darling Children" from my "Darla Darling" shows. We have become accustomed to people approaching me. A young woman approached me as I stood with Todd/Steve. Well, I thought that she approached me. She then exclaimed, "Oh, I am such a big fan! My friend has a camera, please, could I have my picture taken with you?" I flashed a smile. I thought, has to be from "Soprano" days, or maybe "Darla Darling". As I graciously began to step forward, and Todd slightly back, she advanced and stood next to Todd., put her arm around him, block head and all, and said, "I just love Minecraft! I can't believe how realistic your costume is! You are Steve!" I could see the beam emit from under the Steve head! Hey! That get up cost me what a two year budget would be for a small South American country! It should be the "real deal"! Other patrons of the arts then stopped for a photo op. Todd became confident, relaxed, totally comfortable in his 'Minecraft" skin!
The performance was absolutely fantastic. I encourage any readers to make a point of coming to Dayton next Halloween season for a new edition of "Philharmonster". Uncle Nick and the children had fun. (Of course they are still laughing that Meme was not the star/twinkle/wink.) All I needed, and received was the Halloween planner/negotiator's proud voice: "Hey Meme! Isn't it funny, they wanted my picture, not you this time? Meme, I love my costume, Tanner is happy and kinda cute. Tess' is the best cowgirl! You know Meme...this is going to be the best Halloween ever!"
You know, Todd, when we snuggle, nose to nose and I look into those gorgeous blue smiling eyes...that's the best close-up ever!
Monday, September 9, 2013
WHO SAID YOU CAN'T GO HOME?
I absolutely love Bon Jovi's song, "Who Said You Can't Go Home?" I am a "Jersey" girl living in Ohio. My parents, sister, niece, nephew are residents of the Garden State. My niece, nephew, daughter, son, younger (only) sister and I went to the same High School. We were among the "founding" families of our Parish (Our Lady of the Valley RC Church).
Last month, my sister phoned. Understand, my sister, my Mom and I speak on the phone at least three to infinite times a day. This call was "special". "Laura, Mom will be 85 years old this year. You and the family should come home for a birthday party." Donna was absolutely RIGHT! My daughter and my grandchildren were not available, but my son and I took a road trip.
We endured orange barrels, lane closures through Ohio and Pennsylvania where we could only drive 45-55 miles an hour. We wrestled with our music tastes - Driver Picks. So, I tried to do most/all of the driving...I like my music better than Nick's. No matter how old I am, as the miles between Kettering and Tipp City, Ohio and Wayne, New Jersey diminish, I become younger. By the time we pull into the "Honeymooners'" driveway, I am a child...ALWAYS. This trip was NO different!
Having driven through the night, we arrived with the sun in the morning. Dad: "What's the matter with you? Why did you drive in the dark? Sometimes, I don't understand you!" I think that was "hello"? Mom: "Vic, stop it! Let me make you breakfast!"
Let me tell you something. When you think that you and your child might not be on the same page, go and visit YOUR parents. I found an ally in my son, Nick. Crazy dynamic, but so true! "Well, Grandpa, Mom had to wait for me to get out of work and I worked late." Dad: "Then why didn't you leave this morning?" The child in me: "Dad, then we wouldn't be here until evening. We only have until tomorrow night, so we thought we'd get a jump on it!. Nice to see you too!" As if I was not sitting there: "Ang, (short for Angie/ Angela) she's always got an answer! Wise guy answers, not necessarily smart ones!" "Vic, stop it! Let me make you two some breakfast, or do you want to take a nap?" "You know, Mom, I'd love coffee and a shower. How about I make some for you two and while its's brewing, I'll shower and change." Dad: "Don't touch anything! I'll make coffee, go bring your bags upstairs. Why do you have so much with you? Can't you travel light? You haul more stuff in here, where'll we put all of this?"
Let me tell you something else. My parents live in a huge, split level house. Two car garage, complete full family room with fireplace and a powder room on the bottom level. The main floor holds the living room, formal dining room in which you just might squeeze in a battalion of soldiers, their wives, children, parents and a few assorted neighbors. The kitchen sports counters and appliances on two walls and we have had eight eating around the kitchen table with room to invite a friend for each of us. On the upper level, there is a hallway with a full bathroom, three bedrooms and the master bedroom at the end of the hall comes with its own full bathroom. The bedrooms are large enough to need GPS to find a roommate, should you have one. Only my parents live there...NO ONE ELSE!!! "Gee, Dad, if there's no room for my bags (one Anne Klein over-nighter, one Toys R Us tote bag with book and needlework, one lap top case), I'll just leave them on the patio and get my things from there when I need them." Did I mention the patio is the size of a large disco and from there, you will see an acre of the great outdoors that is legally theirs? "Ang, here she goes again!" "Vic, stop it! Let me make you breakfast! Go settle in and coffee will be ready when you come down!"
Let me tell you something else. My Dad, aka "Chaunce" or "Sludge" takes pride in non-service in his palazzo - "Sludges Bath House". Sludge "took our reservation" when I told my Mom that we were coming. His "price list" is simple. Clean bathwater: $5.00; recycled water: $3.00; stand out in the rain - FREE. Clean towel: $3.00, cheapskates air dry - FREE. You want soap? $.50. There is a general nuisance tax which usually runs from $150.00 - $300.00. This has been a running joke for years. But, after we showered, changed, descended the stairs: "Geez! How long do you shower? You like to see the meter spin? Ang, I think that she just stood there and watched the water run! Nobody takes that much time! And HIM (referring to his grandson) - what do you do, take a shower to re-shower and then do it all over again? What do you people do up there?" "Vic, stop it! Here, have some coffee and breakfast!"
Let me tell you something else. The man who never knew where the kitchen was in his house, is not the Kitchen Master! Only he can make and pour the coffee. Only he can move around dishes. Forget about helping him clear. Don't touch his dishwasher - "Laura! You don't know how to run that!" Now, we were feeling a little guilty having a woman who was turning 85 the next day, and an 86 year old (87 in January) wait on us! True, they are healthy and active, but still..."Hey! What do you think you're doing with that jar? Just put it down! Why are you throwing that paper in the garbage? That's recycle!" "Vic, stop it! Here, I'll have a little more coffee!"
Let me tell you something else. My Dad is a self-[proclaimed recycle freak! The biggest threat that anyone could make to him is to wave an aluminum can over his garbage can! "That's recycle! Just leave it!" I swear that he starches and irons his cereal boxes before folding them neatly for recycle. He makes at least three trips to the Wayne Recycle Center daily! I wonder if he has a card that gets punched as a "frequent recycle flyer"?
"Dad, can I borrow your WWII helmet for Todd?" (my 10 year old grandson) "What the hell? You two going to war or something? Ang, I told you she's wacky! She needs a helmet. Eh...I've seen her drive!" UGH..."Dad, Todd is studying WWII and he told the teacher that you have a helmet. He wants to bring it in. I will stay with it. I'll to to school with him, carry it, show it, the works." "Ang, if she had a job, she wouldn't have time to go to the fourth grade again! You need to focus on a career!" "Vic , Stop it! Can I get anyone a snack?"
Let me tell you something else. There is a fabulous framed composite of my grandfather - Ralph the Barber in his WWI uniform in the same frame as the one of my Dad in his WWII uniform. "Dad, can I make a copy of the picture of you and grandpa for Todd to bring to school?" I could see my mother and son wince. I mean, I'll stay with it. I'll go to school with him, I'll carry it, show it, the works." Ang, here we go again...why don't you get a job?"
My nephew and niece happened to come in at this point. Jeremy tried to copy the pictures, but the copier only had black ink...no good. My Dad then had to go to the pharmacy. Jeremy reminded me of a place right next to the drugstore that copies! "Hey Dad, do you want me to drive you to the shopping center? You go to the pharmacy, I'll go to the copy guy."
Let me tell you something else. This man is a tire kicking fanatic! He took a look at my new car. Oh no! "What's that? A parking lot?" He noticed a tiny scrape. "Wait a minute...yeah, this can be compounded out. Why did't you compound this?" "Dad, I will." "When did you have the oil changed last?" It'll be due when I get back...well, maybe a week or so after." Then he started kicking tires." How often do you rotate the tires?" "I don't know. Whenever the oil is changed, I think they're rotated. Here, Dad, hop in!" "Nothing doing! I'll drive!" "Dad, do you want to drive mine?" "I drive my own car! Let's go!"
We returned to Jeremy's dilemma. He is the President of his fraternity. my father just was not going to let that go by: "Jer, what's wrong with you? You're majoring in Beer Parties and Shenanigans!" Jeremy's dilemma: He was going to a Cowboy and Indian themed party that night. He purchased a headdress. Evidently, he was going to be an Indian. Mom had some fabric. Nick fashioned a loin cloth. He fringed it, Mom ironed it. Tori (my 16 year old niece) is a champion eye roller. She is an eye roller with a sense of humor that does not quit. Jeremy put on his loin cloth. "I think I'll take off the boxers. "Gee Jer, " volunteered Tori, "how about Disney Princess boxers under your skirt? Ignoring her, "Hey, Aunt Laura! I picked up beads...no shirt, just beads!" "Great!" I offered. "And, if you want war paint, three red lines on your forehead, three red lines on your chin and three red lines down each cheek!" My mother hustled up the stairs and said, "I'll get a nice red lipstick and Laura will get to work!" That pushed Tori over the edge. "Yeah, Jeremy, big brother - wear your cute mini skirt, lipstick and jewelry to your party with a feather hat!" Dad' s offering: "You people are all wacky! I thought that Laura was the wacky one, but you're all nuts!" Spoken by the guy who neatly arranged his recycle cans before yet another trip to recycle! "Vic, stop it! Who wants to nibble something? Vic, go downstairs and bring up a few more cans of soda!"
Let me tell you something else. My parents have a refrigerator and wall of shelves (home to cans of food, just in case, in their garage. So, returning from the garage with two cans of Coke: "Hey Ang, what'll we do with this?" It was a jar of Vodka sauce for penne. "Vic, I bought it, but I don't like it so dark red." This made Nickie Neat Nick nuts! Well, what should I do with it?" I jumped in. "Dad, you know, I'll take it if no one wants it. Here Nick, put this in my bag with the helmet." My son grabbed the jar, raced out of the chaos. That Band-Aid fell off quickly. "Ang, what is that can of tomato puree doing down there? You use crushed tomatoes, what is that for?" Sighing, Mom said, "Donna left it I guess when she moved out. Just leave it." Not a good answer. "It takes up too much room! I want to get rid of it!" I was lucky once, so, I jumped in, yet again, "Dad, I'll take it. It'll clear your shelf, you don't have to use it and I'll find a use for tomato puree. Remember, Nick and I are working on a cookbook?" OUCH! "Now, I can't give that to you! It's Donna's" (By the way, Donna denies ownership of a can of tomato puree) "Vic, stop it! Would anyone like a snack before your parties kids?" Both had destinations out of Wayne for the evening.
Mom wanted Chinese Take Out for dinner. Nick stayed home with his grandmother. Luck Me! "Go with Daddy." He drove his Chariot. I wasn't going into the car abyss again! So, we got to The China Kitchen. The clerk smiled and was helpful when I asked for chop sticks. "Don't you use a fork anymore?" I assured my Dad that wacky people gave up forks for the month of September an that I was an avid follower. He just shook his head
.Let me tell you something else. No matter what...NO LEFT OVER CHINESE allowed! We were getting full. As poor unsuspecting Nick covered containers to place in the refrigerator...well, it was not pretty. "Whoa! What do you think you're doing? No, No! No take out leftovers in my refrigerator! He said that he'd take the food home with his Packanack Pizza and New Jersey water when we left. That calmed the beast. As Dad went through his rant about left overs, Mom interrupted, "Vic, stop it! Who wants some coffee and apple pie?"
Let me tell you something else. If my parents think that I am still a child, they believe that their grandson is still a baby. Dan (brother-in-law) pointed that out after the following story:
I was tired rather early and went to my room (actually, it had been my sister's). I had my phone charging, read for a while, turned out the light and fell asleep. I evidently was "the good one". Nick, having ignored 43 e-mails to participate in family ":fun" and a plea for talent releases needed the next day, thought that he'd use the family room to watch a little television, do some work. My parents went to bed...yeah, sure. at about 10 P.M. "It's bedtime! Why is the TV on?" So, even though they were two flights up and the thing was practically on "mute", off went the television...house rules. Twenty minutes later: "Hey, do you have shares in Public Service (electric company)? It's bed time, turn off the lights!" Lights off. In the dark, using battery power on the laptop, not using any electricity at all, Nick heard my Mom come down the stairs (two flights in the dark), "It's bed time! You shouldn't be up now! You need to get some sleep!" If Dan is right, she very well could have picked him up, put him on her shoulder, sat in the rocking chair and sang "Sonny Boy" to him like she used to sing to get him to sleep!
Saturday morning...HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM! The morning brought my niece and nephew with the cake that my sister baked for Mom's birthday! The top layer had split into quarters with a two to three inch crater criss-cross. Oh boy. My sister, not yet there, called : "The kids have the cake. I have to teach a class and I'll be over at about 4:30ish with Dan and Danny. Fix the cake!" Now, my parents did not want to to go my sister's for dinner; nor, did they want to go out. My Mom had done the preparation for dinner ahead. My Dad was captaining the kitchen when the cake carrier came in with the disabled Birthday Cake. "Why did she want to bake a cake? She can't bake! Why didn't she order one? What do you think that you're going to do with it?" Yep, directed at me. "Dad, anyone can go into a store, plunk down money and buy any old cake. When a cake is baked at home, it's done with love and with the thought of the recipient." Now, even I wasn't swallowing that one. "Vic, stop it! Leave the girls alone! They're getting along. Does anyone want anything before the kitchen becomes a bakery?"
Let me tell you something else. This is the man who wanted to buy dueling pistols for my sister and me for Christmas. You would think that he'd be relieved with the spirit of cooperation,good will and happy feelings among all. You would think. After I removed the cover, he, hovering, said, "What do you think you're going to do?" "Mom, where is the hand mixer?" As I began to open a cabinet looking for frosting ingredients, "Whoa! Wait! Let me do that!" Dad was hopping on one foot. "Vic, stop it! Do you want a cup of coffee - Chaunce, Laura?" With an edge of frustration: "Mom, I want to make a batch of frosting to start. Let me see what else I can do with the crater." I said that as I opened the refrigerator. "Whoa! What do you think you're doing in there?" Letting that pass, I found a box of strawberries. Mom: "Oh poor Tori, those are her strawberries!" "Mom, give her the tomato puree and let me do this." Dad: "She's just a wise guy! Wacky! When are you going to get a job?"
Let me tell you something else. I deserve a black belt in FAMILY! By now, Tess, my granddaughter, home with my daughter called with her spelling words to practice; my grandson, Todd called to be sure I secured the helmet and to say "Happy Birthday" to Nana; and the youngest of the trio called to say he misses me. Jeremy was doing a play by play of the frat party - some girl took the headdress and Tori was distracted mocking him, forgeting the strawberries! I washed, dried, hulled the berries. Oooooops...I drained them on a paper towel.
Let me tell you something else. Never use an entire sheet of paper towel in Chaunce's kitchen...NEVER! "What? A whole paper towel? Why are you so wasteful? Are you rich? I forgot, you're broke. No job, so you come here to throw away paper towels!" Three guesses as to who said that. "Vic, stop it! Let Laura fix the cake! Does anyone want lunch?"
"Step back! I'll boil the spaghetti!" The chicken is in the oven, stand back! What the hell do you need candles for? What are you doing playing with matches. Don't touch that plate!" Dad was having a blast!
We gave Mom her gifts. We had dinner. There was one meatball left..that was the only leftover. "You people just don't eat!" was Dad's take on that.
We lit the candles. Before we sang the entire chorus of "Happy Birthday", Mom blew out the candles. I wanted a picture, so we did it again. She said, "I thought I was 85! Where are all of the candles?" Dad: "Ang, I would have had to turn on the Air-Conditioning!" I had been in charge of the candles and placement. "Mom,
the candle in the middle is Dad. The two on either side are Donna and me. The four outside of those are your grandchildren: Nick, Tiff, Jeremy, Tori. The three outside of those are Todd, Tess, Tanner." (great-grandchildren)
Let me tell you something else, once and for all. We were happy to be there. We were happy that both Honeymooners were there. Mom said that it was the best weekend ever. Mom also said that it was her happiest birthday ever.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM... and please God, 85 more!
WHO SAID YOU CAN'T GO HOME? It's the only place where you're one of their own!
Monday, July 15, 2013
YOU'RE TOO YOUNG FOR THIS AND I'M TOO OLD (OR SHOULD KNOW BETTER)
I spent a festive Independence Day, four day weekend, with my grandchildren, my daughter and son-in-law. We went to an American Celebration Festival. We watched a Patriotic Parade. We had a bonfire, ate S'mores, barbecued...the works. There were sparklers, bang snap pop something or others that had the trio (ages 9,8,6) laughing and prancing. BUT...
At dusk, on the Fourth, there was a fog rolling across the area. A fine drizzle, by nightfall became a marginal monsoon. We retreated indoors. Doubtful that there would be a display of fireworks on the river (Muskingham), we all resigned ourselves to the possibility that the fireworks would be postponed until the following evening.
My daughter and spouse retired to their wing, closed the door. The four of us bathed, jammied up, brushed teeth and all congregated in Tess' room to surf channels, maybe watch a movie. Todd began playing something or other on my computer; Tanner was connected to his DS. Tess and I practiced her knitting. The television screen flickered with the movie upon which we all agreed...The Wizard of Oz. (Gotta love the witches and those stylin' red bling shoes!)
Suddenly, Todd said, "Hey, Meme (may-may)...do you hear that?" Tess responded, "I saw the sky light up!" Tanner removed his thumb from his mouth and screeched, "FIREWORKS!" We couldn't believe that Tiff and Gary didn't hear/see the sky!
At 10 P.M., three children and their grandmother (yes me, thank you very much), crept down the stairs in the dark, shushing each other, then raced out of the door, ducked in the rain and jumped into my car! We were clad in our pajamas, barefooted (carrying slippers not to soak them) and don't you dare repeat this, but, I had on NO MAKE-UP! The children watched the sky, we all ooooooed and ahhhhhhed as I followed Todd's suggestion to "follow the sky, Meme! Just drive towards where we see the fireworks!" I did! We headed for the brilliant sky celebrating yet another Independence Day...the weather be damned! We made it to the section of town, where on the river, the firework were launched. We remained in the car (ah...jammies and worse...no make-up?) and watched with wonder. Each year, we have been together watching Fireworks on the Fourth. Each year we marvel as if we had never experienced a noisy, well-lit sky bursting before us! The finale was amazing. "Okay, we better head home", I attempted to say as Todd, excitedly exclaimed, "No Meme! There are more...over there...let's go!" His little finger pointed up and over. So, we raced toward fireworks...s-o-m-e-w-h-e-r-e. We saw what we could from a moving, lost car. Driving on the ground, with my eyes to the sky, left me totally disoriented and lost!
The family has lived in Zanesville, Ohio (two hour drive from me) for only a few months. I can navigate my way from my home (where they lived 2 minutes from my door prior to Z-ville) to their home and to a few places in Zanesville (ie...Mall, Duncan Falls Elementary School). Given the dark night, poor lighting, rain and having the navigational skills of Columbus (the man thought that he landed in India!), I was definitely in over my head! "So, I think that I'm a little lost. Do any of you recognize where we are?" What was I thinking? Nine, eight, six years old? Seriously? Todd reminded me, "Hey, Meme! We're just kids!" Gee, I hadn't thought of that. Finally, he said, "Why don't you use the GPS?" I had forgotten that I took one along. It was balanced in my console on top of my Lady Antebellum discs!
Tess quickly retrieved the Magellan. "Here Meme! We won't be lost anymore!" Tanner, removing his thumb from his mouth again, volunteered, "Meme doesn't know how to use that. She told me once." How about that? And I thought that children don't listen!
Todd snatched the contraption. "I'm the oldest. Let me do this!" After a few clicks, I heard a definite robotic female voice, "Proceed to the highlighted route. Make first legal U-turn..."
With more turns than the Mad Hatter's Tea Cups at Disney, we managed with Ms. Magellan, to get home...oh, at about 1 A.M. As we pulled into the driveway of still unaware parents, we High-Fived and called ourselves not "Storm Chasers", but "Firework Chasers". As we calmed, Todd asked, "Hey, Meme. Don't teenagers sneak out at night sometimes?"
My only response:
"Todd, you're too young for this and I'm too old! Or at least, I should know better!"
At dusk, on the Fourth, there was a fog rolling across the area. A fine drizzle, by nightfall became a marginal monsoon. We retreated indoors. Doubtful that there would be a display of fireworks on the river (Muskingham), we all resigned ourselves to the possibility that the fireworks would be postponed until the following evening.
My daughter and spouse retired to their wing, closed the door. The four of us bathed, jammied up, brushed teeth and all congregated in Tess' room to surf channels, maybe watch a movie. Todd began playing something or other on my computer; Tanner was connected to his DS. Tess and I practiced her knitting. The television screen flickered with the movie upon which we all agreed...The Wizard of Oz. (Gotta love the witches and those stylin' red bling shoes!)
Suddenly, Todd said, "Hey, Meme (may-may)...do you hear that?" Tess responded, "I saw the sky light up!" Tanner removed his thumb from his mouth and screeched, "FIREWORKS!" We couldn't believe that Tiff and Gary didn't hear/see the sky!
At 10 P.M., three children and their grandmother (yes me, thank you very much), crept down the stairs in the dark, shushing each other, then raced out of the door, ducked in the rain and jumped into my car! We were clad in our pajamas, barefooted (carrying slippers not to soak them) and don't you dare repeat this, but, I had on NO MAKE-UP! The children watched the sky, we all ooooooed and ahhhhhhed as I followed Todd's suggestion to "follow the sky, Meme! Just drive towards where we see the fireworks!" I did! We headed for the brilliant sky celebrating yet another Independence Day...the weather be damned! We made it to the section of town, where on the river, the firework were launched. We remained in the car (ah...jammies and worse...no make-up?) and watched with wonder. Each year, we have been together watching Fireworks on the Fourth. Each year we marvel as if we had never experienced a noisy, well-lit sky bursting before us! The finale was amazing. "Okay, we better head home", I attempted to say as Todd, excitedly exclaimed, "No Meme! There are more...over there...let's go!" His little finger pointed up and over. So, we raced toward fireworks...s-o-m-e-w-h-e-r-e. We saw what we could from a moving, lost car. Driving on the ground, with my eyes to the sky, left me totally disoriented and lost!
The family has lived in Zanesville, Ohio (two hour drive from me) for only a few months. I can navigate my way from my home (where they lived 2 minutes from my door prior to Z-ville) to their home and to a few places in Zanesville (ie...Mall, Duncan Falls Elementary School). Given the dark night, poor lighting, rain and having the navigational skills of Columbus (the man thought that he landed in India!), I was definitely in over my head! "So, I think that I'm a little lost. Do any of you recognize where we are?" What was I thinking? Nine, eight, six years old? Seriously? Todd reminded me, "Hey, Meme! We're just kids!" Gee, I hadn't thought of that. Finally, he said, "Why don't you use the GPS?" I had forgotten that I took one along. It was balanced in my console on top of my Lady Antebellum discs!
Tess quickly retrieved the Magellan. "Here Meme! We won't be lost anymore!" Tanner, removing his thumb from his mouth again, volunteered, "Meme doesn't know how to use that. She told me once." How about that? And I thought that children don't listen!
Todd snatched the contraption. "I'm the oldest. Let me do this!" After a few clicks, I heard a definite robotic female voice, "Proceed to the highlighted route. Make first legal U-turn..."
With more turns than the Mad Hatter's Tea Cups at Disney, we managed with Ms. Magellan, to get home...oh, at about 1 A.M. As we pulled into the driveway of still unaware parents, we High-Fived and called ourselves not "Storm Chasers", but "Firework Chasers". As we calmed, Todd asked, "Hey, Meme. Don't teenagers sneak out at night sometimes?"
My only response:
"Todd, you're too young for this and I'm too old! Or at least, I should know better!"
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
THE CONTEST
Recently, my grandchildren - Todd (9), Tess (8), Tanner (6) and I were having an extremely serious conversation. It went something like this: Todd: "Hey! Let's go to McDonalds. It has a big, big Play Place!" Tess: "Todd, no. Burger King is bigger! Let's go there! Right Tanner?" Now, Tanner quickly agreed with his older sister, mostly responsible for potty training and plays house and school with him. I had been thinking along the lines of Ruby Tuesday's for lunch, truthfully. I just love the salad bar. The trio appealed to me for a ruling about the bigger Play Place. Evidently, Ruby Tuesday's didn't hold a candle to either establishment in their minds.
"Well, I think that Burger King might be bigger, but I really can't be sure." Let's face it readers...I let them play while I jot notes on a pad, read the paper, read a book, or do a little embroidery. I have never bounced, climbed or experienced sliding down the slides frontwards or backwards! "I have an idea!" Keep in mind that as a grandparent, one has to remain open minded, fair. As a Libra, I have an underlying need to be a diplomat. "Let's have a competition. We can only make a fair call if we go to both on the same day to compare them. So, let's start at McDonalds's (I was in the mood for a caramel Frappe) and order food. We'll play for an hour exactly. We'll then go to Burger King for drinks and dessert and play for an hour there. After we've done both, we will know which Play Place is bigger for sure!" The three cheered as we raced to the car. I hesitated only to pack my "busy bag" with a book and embroidery).
We bounded into McDonald's. With Happy Meals all around and my super scrumptious drink, we began timing our play session. "Meme! (may-may), watch this! Meme, here I am, see me? Todd cut in front of me! Tanner, don't go up the slide!" Ah, an hour of pure joy!
"Time's up! Let's move on!" I called out. As the trio put their shoes back on, a rather attractive grandfather commented, "Wow! You're lucky. Those kids didn't give you an argument to leave! My grandson, Jake here would be throwing a fit if he only played for a little while!" I smiled, "Sir, we're having a contest. We have to run to Burger King for some research. The carrot here is that they can get slushies and another play experience!" He laughed, said that was the funniest thing that he heard all day (and I thought that I needed a life?) and told us to have fun. "Thanks", I replied, "I wouldn't have it any other way, but you enjoy yourself too! It was nice talking to you!" Away we went!
In Burger King, slushies and cookies secured, we raced into the Play Area. For an hour, "Meme! Watch this! Meme, here I am, see me? Todd cut in front of me! Tanner, don't go up the slide!" Ah another hour of pure joy!
"Time's up! Let's move on!" I called out. A young mother with five year old twins said, "I have to drag these two out or offer bribes to have them leave without a battle! How do you do it?" I replied that we were having a contest and had to have a discussion on neutral turf. She laughed and said that was pretty funny. I wondered why I was spending the day with the trio when I could do some stand-up comedy at Funny Bone.
In the car, I said, "Okay, we have to decide." Todd offered this suggestion: "Hey Meme! Why don't we get Frosties and talk about it?" So, we went to Wendy's, ordered Frosties, found a table and opened the conversation. Todd said that McDonald's was bigger. Tess (and Tanner) said that Burger King was bigger. Wasn't that the way we started out? I then decided to sound a little grown up (very little). "You know, McDonald's equipment looks bigger, because the actual 'place' is smaller. Burger King's room is twice the size, but I think that makes the equipment look smaller". Other patrons in Wendy's began to listen and look at us as if our spaceship from Mars was overheating in the parking lot. An employee, clearing a table nearby, commented, "you sound like experts." I told him about our contest. He asked me to adopt him.
We met Tiff (aka, their Mom, my daughter) later. She said, "What did you do today? Did you have fun? Let's go have a little dinner, you decide where and tell me all about it!" The four of us held our stomachs, groaned. She asked, "What's wrong?" As one chorus, we sang out, "Oh nothing! Your choice and we'll tell you all about it!"
"Well, I think that Burger King might be bigger, but I really can't be sure." Let's face it readers...I let them play while I jot notes on a pad, read the paper, read a book, or do a little embroidery. I have never bounced, climbed or experienced sliding down the slides frontwards or backwards! "I have an idea!" Keep in mind that as a grandparent, one has to remain open minded, fair. As a Libra, I have an underlying need to be a diplomat. "Let's have a competition. We can only make a fair call if we go to both on the same day to compare them. So, let's start at McDonalds's (I was in the mood for a caramel Frappe) and order food. We'll play for an hour exactly. We'll then go to Burger King for drinks and dessert and play for an hour there. After we've done both, we will know which Play Place is bigger for sure!" The three cheered as we raced to the car. I hesitated only to pack my "busy bag" with a book and embroidery).
We bounded into McDonald's. With Happy Meals all around and my super scrumptious drink, we began timing our play session. "Meme! (may-may), watch this! Meme, here I am, see me? Todd cut in front of me! Tanner, don't go up the slide!" Ah, an hour of pure joy!
"Time's up! Let's move on!" I called out. As the trio put their shoes back on, a rather attractive grandfather commented, "Wow! You're lucky. Those kids didn't give you an argument to leave! My grandson, Jake here would be throwing a fit if he only played for a little while!" I smiled, "Sir, we're having a contest. We have to run to Burger King for some research. The carrot here is that they can get slushies and another play experience!" He laughed, said that was the funniest thing that he heard all day (and I thought that I needed a life?) and told us to have fun. "Thanks", I replied, "I wouldn't have it any other way, but you enjoy yourself too! It was nice talking to you!" Away we went!
In Burger King, slushies and cookies secured, we raced into the Play Area. For an hour, "Meme! Watch this! Meme, here I am, see me? Todd cut in front of me! Tanner, don't go up the slide!" Ah another hour of pure joy!
"Time's up! Let's move on!" I called out. A young mother with five year old twins said, "I have to drag these two out or offer bribes to have them leave without a battle! How do you do it?" I replied that we were having a contest and had to have a discussion on neutral turf. She laughed and said that was pretty funny. I wondered why I was spending the day with the trio when I could do some stand-up comedy at Funny Bone.
In the car, I said, "Okay, we have to decide." Todd offered this suggestion: "Hey Meme! Why don't we get Frosties and talk about it?" So, we went to Wendy's, ordered Frosties, found a table and opened the conversation. Todd said that McDonald's was bigger. Tess (and Tanner) said that Burger King was bigger. Wasn't that the way we started out? I then decided to sound a little grown up (very little). "You know, McDonald's equipment looks bigger, because the actual 'place' is smaller. Burger King's room is twice the size, but I think that makes the equipment look smaller". Other patrons in Wendy's began to listen and look at us as if our spaceship from Mars was overheating in the parking lot. An employee, clearing a table nearby, commented, "you sound like experts." I told him about our contest. He asked me to adopt him.
We met Tiff (aka, their Mom, my daughter) later. She said, "What did you do today? Did you have fun? Let's go have a little dinner, you decide where and tell me all about it!" The four of us held our stomachs, groaned. She asked, "What's wrong?" As one chorus, we sang out, "Oh nothing! Your choice and we'll tell you all about it!"
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
HEY COACH! OR TENNIS ANYONE?
I am not what you might label an athlete. While I was in High School, I did twirl, two batons, thank you, as a Majorette/twirler with the Marching Band. I never dropped the batons during a game or a parade, could spin and flip like Lyndhurst's first Golden Girl(she twirled with fire). I danced from the age of three until, let's see...yesterday. I power walk, well actually, that's through the Mall, or down Fifth Avenue during "hot" sales en route to the Elizabeth Arden Salon. I can make any credit card smoke! It's all in the wrist. I learned to play tennis. I had gorgeous outfits, coordinating sneakers. I looked great and never broke a sweat. I played with my best friend Gail and she still is my friend (what does that tell you?). My Dad (undefeated in Wayne NJ even at 86 years old) would practice with me. He wasn't overly impressed with my performance, or my non-performance, at all! When we would play doubles, he told me to stay out of the way because I made him look bad. On our honeymoon, Steve and I would play. I was more of a poser, in Aruba, rather than a player. I'm sure you figured out that he just might have had a slight edge on me...didn't everyone? Take a close look at the episode of "Sex and the City" where Nathan Lane made an appearance. I played a party snob well and in another scene, I was on the tennis court in an amazing outfit!
Time passed.
I signed my Grandchildren up for tennis lessons. On the way to the tennis court, we would talk to Grandpa (my Dad) on the phone for pointers. Tanner, then four, liked the concept of tennis and the club tennis parties. Tess, then six, with a fantastically high ponytail and the ability of her grandmother (ah, me) was never sure if she was on the court or not. She was all about the parties as well. Todd, at seven, was good. I mean that boy could hit the ball in bounds with accuracy that could make Bad Boy McEnroe register for Tennis Camp! One day, after a lesson, the Pro distributed forms for an accelerated tennis team for Todd's age. Bouncing with every word, Todd told me that he wanted to sign up immediately! He wanted to be on the team! Faster than Annie Oakley could draw, I whipped out my pen, signed on all of the dotted and undotted lines and exclaimed, "Oh Todd! That's fantastic! We'll call Grandpa on our way home! Mommy will be proud", and so the party line went as we sang all of the way home.
And then...
"Okay, boys and girls, let's get into our teams." Day one of tennis practice. The children were divided into appropriate age groups for competition, etc. Todd's four man team, bouncing like the tennis balls that they were supposed to hit later, waited for organization to take shape. The structure was that the Pros oversaw the teams coached by two Dads/parents (to sound politically correct, but I was there) DADS each. A handsome, thirty-something man, Orlando, was Todd's coach. No one else volunteered. No Coaches = No Team. That is a perpetual formula, you know. Dave, the Pro and Orlando reassured the little team, "Don't worry, someone will volunteer." Todd bounced over to the two men, screeching gleefully, "I have a coach! She's been playing since she was a little girl! Meme (pronounced may-may) will coach! See? She's right there!" The little finger, much like Moses' staff, parted the Red Sea of tennis enthusiasts and landed on me! My father and Gail would have choked with that recommendation! Anyway, I very lamely (in Anne Klien shoes and Dana Buchman threads) stepped, rather crept up to the men and the pack of mighty-mights. "Uh, well, I don't want to step on toes. If you are desperate, I mean really desperate, I would gladly help out?" Dave said, "That's great, Laura! I don't believe we've ever had a grandmother coach our players! That is so great of you to step right up! Thank you!" Hm...step up? I more or less crawled. Orlando exclaimed, "Ah, Laura is it? It'll be an honor to work with you!" his daughter Christina and Todd did a little victory dance, the children cheered! There are grandmothers who wearing sweats and sneakers (please, I am not criticizing) who were at home making meatloaf. There I was, standing at Quail (sister club to Kettering Tennis Club)wondering "What happened here?" The children were told to give information to a secretary while the coaches had a meeting. The last "meeting" which I attended was at the Ballet Guild (planning a fund raiser) when Tess was a mouse in "The Nutcracker". I'm more the tea and scone type of meeting attendee. I was now ushered to tables with the "next stop - Wimbledon crowd". Ah-ha.
On the ride home, Todd was beside himself! "Meme! This is the best day ever! You're going to coach our team!" This from a child who electively listens to what I tell him to do. Wait 'till I tell everybody!" Yeah, Todd, you do that. My first order of business, after assisting friends and family off their respective floors triggered by laughing fits, was wardrobe. I found the most gorgeous outfits and bought a racquet (white) to go with everything. Face it, I hadn't played in ____years! My racquet was a little dated.
Practice sessions began on a regular basis. We drilled the children with basics, ran a little, chased balls a lot. Orlando and I had a system, I think. The children were hitting, they were accurate, some powerful. Some, not so much. I took the shy little girls and managed to level their swings (Oh! Listen to me! I sound so tennis-ish!) I even talked them into keeping their eyes on the ball, timing, bounce swing, du, try to aim for my thigh to bust cellulite, you have to serve like you mean it, we don't have waiters on when the children did well, pep talks and positive "wows, good ones and yikes," the matches were to begin. There were twenty-eight teams, give or take. During the "practice" weeks, I took adult "refresher" lessons. Dave was such a gentleman. He never commented on this non-pro's performance. Well, actually, not much of a performance, but I moved around a lot. He thought that if personality could win trophies (not Miss Congeniality...Tennis), I'd need a display case.
Orlando was factual, strong, patient, god at this. I was nice, encouraging, funny. My comments were a little quirky, but they kept the stress level down while we blitzed the court! At the end of the season, there was a party and free play. A hush fell over the assembly when awards were to be given when our placements were announced. Todd was edgy, Orlando and I were hoping for a decent showing. We emphasized that they did their best. Orlando and I, it was announced, coached the FOURTH PLACE team! Our little crew burst with screams of pride! The parents congratulated their treasures and us! One woman asked if I coach privately...it was a nice touch, she said , to have a grandmother on the courts with the little ones! Dave looked at me and winked. I declined. Between you and me, I probably could get you to Wimbledon, but I still can't play worth a _____!
On the way home, we called my Dad, I called Gail. Todd said that he was wrong before, "Meme! TODAY is the best day ever! We did it! You're the best tennis player ever!" I sighed, "Well Todd, YOU played tennis and YOU helped the team!" That little finger wiggled at me: "Meme, okay, then you're the best tennis coach ever!"
Time passed.
I signed my Grandchildren up for tennis lessons. On the way to the tennis court, we would talk to Grandpa (my Dad) on the phone for pointers. Tanner, then four, liked the concept of tennis and the club tennis parties. Tess, then six, with a fantastically high ponytail and the ability of her grandmother (ah, me) was never sure if she was on the court or not. She was all about the parties as well. Todd, at seven, was good. I mean that boy could hit the ball in bounds with accuracy that could make Bad Boy McEnroe register for Tennis Camp! One day, after a lesson, the Pro distributed forms for an accelerated tennis team for Todd's age. Bouncing with every word, Todd told me that he wanted to sign up immediately! He wanted to be on the team! Faster than Annie Oakley could draw, I whipped out my pen, signed on all of the dotted and undotted lines and exclaimed, "Oh Todd! That's fantastic! We'll call Grandpa on our way home! Mommy will be proud", and so the party line went as we sang all of the way home.
And then...
"Okay, boys and girls, let's get into our teams." Day one of tennis practice. The children were divided into appropriate age groups for competition, etc. Todd's four man team, bouncing like the tennis balls that they were supposed to hit later, waited for organization to take shape. The structure was that the Pros oversaw the teams coached by two Dads/parents (to sound politically correct, but I was there) DADS each. A handsome, thirty-something man, Orlando, was Todd's coach. No one else volunteered. No Coaches = No Team. That is a perpetual formula, you know. Dave, the Pro and Orlando reassured the little team, "Don't worry, someone will volunteer." Todd bounced over to the two men, screeching gleefully, "I have a coach! She's been playing since she was a little girl! Meme (pronounced may-may) will coach! See? She's right there!" The little finger, much like Moses' staff, parted the Red Sea of tennis enthusiasts and landed on me! My father and Gail would have choked with that recommendation! Anyway, I very lamely (in Anne Klien shoes and Dana Buchman threads) stepped, rather crept up to the men and the pack of mighty-mights. "Uh, well, I don't want to step on toes. If you are desperate, I mean really desperate, I would gladly help out?" Dave said, "That's great, Laura! I don't believe we've ever had a grandmother coach our players! That is so great of you to step right up! Thank you!" Hm...step up? I more or less crawled. Orlando exclaimed, "Ah, Laura is it? It'll be an honor to work with you!" his daughter Christina and Todd did a little victory dance, the children cheered! There are grandmothers who wearing sweats and sneakers (please, I am not criticizing) who were at home making meatloaf. There I was, standing at Quail (sister club to Kettering Tennis Club)wondering "What happened here?" The children were told to give information to a secretary while the coaches had a meeting. The last "meeting" which I attended was at the Ballet Guild (planning a fund raiser) when Tess was a mouse in "The Nutcracker". I'm more the tea and scone type of meeting attendee. I was now ushered to tables with the "next stop - Wimbledon crowd". Ah-ha.
On the ride home, Todd was beside himself! "Meme! This is the best day ever! You're going to coach our team!" This from a child who electively listens to what I tell him to do. Wait 'till I tell everybody!" Yeah, Todd, you do that. My first order of business, after assisting friends and family off their respective floors triggered by laughing fits, was wardrobe. I found the most gorgeous outfits and bought a racquet (white) to go with everything. Face it, I hadn't played in ____years! My racquet was a little dated.
Practice sessions began on a regular basis. We drilled the children with basics, ran a little, chased balls a lot. Orlando and I had a system, I think. The children were hitting, they were accurate, some powerful. Some, not so much. I took the shy little girls and managed to level their swings (Oh! Listen to me! I sound so tennis-ish!) I even talked them into keeping their eyes on the ball, timing, bounce swing, du, try to aim for my thigh to bust cellulite, you have to serve like you mean it, we don't have waiters on when the children did well, pep talks and positive "wows, good ones and yikes," the matches were to begin. There were twenty-eight teams, give or take. During the "practice" weeks, I took adult "refresher" lessons. Dave was such a gentleman. He never commented on this non-pro's performance. Well, actually, not much of a performance, but I moved around a lot. He thought that if personality could win trophies (not Miss Congeniality...Tennis), I'd need a display case.
Orlando was factual, strong, patient, god at this. I was nice, encouraging, funny. My comments were a little quirky, but they kept the stress level down while we blitzed the court! At the end of the season, there was a party and free play. A hush fell over the assembly when awards were to be given when our placements were announced. Todd was edgy, Orlando and I were hoping for a decent showing. We emphasized that they did their best. Orlando and I, it was announced, coached the FOURTH PLACE team! Our little crew burst with screams of pride! The parents congratulated their treasures and us! One woman asked if I coach privately...it was a nice touch, she said , to have a grandmother on the courts with the little ones! Dave looked at me and winked. I declined. Between you and me, I probably could get you to Wimbledon, but I still can't play worth a _____!
On the way home, we called my Dad, I called Gail. Todd said that he was wrong before, "Meme! TODAY is the best day ever! We did it! You're the best tennis player ever!" I sighed, "Well Todd, YOU played tennis and YOU helped the team!" That little finger wiggled at me: "Meme, okay, then you're the best tennis coach ever!"
Saturday, May 18, 2013
WORK AT HOME OR BRING MONEY AND LOTS OF IT!
I have been investigating "work at home" claims, websites and the like. The snake oil salesmen attempt to be slick, so sincere and so eager to share their secrets and want to see you succeed! No risk involved and blah, blah, blah. I love the "absolutely free" claims with the catch at the end of a video presentation of an absolutely new and free (honestly, ask my neighbors) program, for a mere one time only fee of $99, $299, $1099 (unless you sign up five seconds ago, then, there is a 75% discount because we want you to succeed!) SERIOUSLY? Let's look at this massive mess of deceit logically.
First of all, if Slick Sammy the Salesman was making mad money, hand over fist with a gimmick to allow him to swim in money, exactly WHY would ne be sharing with any assorted bored, broke, sluggish Internet surfing underachievers in their tidy-whities? Honestly, if you could make a bazillion dollars, would you share with a bazillion strangers? Maybe friends, family, but STRANGERS? Ah-ha...just as I thought!
"Ladies and gentlemen, step right up, move in a little closer, all you need is a computer, Internet connection, will and desire! We'll train you. Follow our step by step, proven methods!" If all of these claimants had megaphones, instead of snappy "volume controls", you'd think that you were walking the Net Midway through an alley of Barkers! What a carnival of garbage!
The scariest and yet most ridiculous scam out there on the "Work at Home" bandwagon is one where by, you have a "Mentor". Patty will phone and after a pep talk about how she is doing soooooo well working at home, directs you to write down your three goals, and on and on, moves in for the kill asking for $299 to begin making a Six Figure Income (would that be $000000?) immediately. After Patty is told that $299 isn't possible for a week or two, she then proposes, "Oh, I get it. It's tough. You'll be so glad that you are on track to do this though. So, I'll tell you what I'm going to do" (Original? Not hardly). "For $9.99, enthuses Patty, "I'll send you twelve bottles of the healthiest product ever formulated so that you learn to love it! We don't do sales, you will only manage your own site, your own business, but if you love the product, you will have an incentive to join the program! You can even put some in a cooler, when you visit friends or family and nonchalantly pull one out, start drinking and they'll want to know where you got it and how to buy some!" Whoa, wait a minute Patty! This was to make money from web pages...no sales, no inventory; no deliveries, etc. Where did cooler hawking come from? Now, can you picture stopping to visit a friend, having lunch, coffee, or tea with your daughter, Mom, sister and whipping out a cooler and think they will clamor for "hat?" Ah-ha...go to Northern Jersey or NYC with a cooler and have my Italian family even let me in the door as a peddler? My friends have breeding and money. "Here, Gail, when you are finished jetting between cruises, your houses, Ireland and while shopping at Bergdorf's, get jealous over this bug juice!" Or, "Hey Suzanne! Forget the Grey Goose and Dom's bubbly, have a zap of stupidity!" Or even better, at the next SAG-AFTRA mixer, meet and greet, I slam my cooler on the table and offer A and B Listers a swig of health! SERIOUSLY? I know, I know, at the next Hog Roast, with the Country music playing, the barn cleared for dancing, the steer out in the Adkins field; as cases of beer are iced, "Thanks for including this City Slicker again this year, Rick! I love this ho-down...how about tossing back some pure glutton free, low-cal, watery health?" SERIOUSLY? Patty and the cooler goo even outdid Lisa who swoops down on a poor soul's carcass after all else fails and sends: "Sorry you're having trouble. Click this link for an absolutely free opportunity." Adrian, in a video sales letter pushes his "social commission" scam then for a mere, $19.99 (instead of $99) AND after passing that screen, how about $99 (discounted from $399) for "set up" to this totally free, HOAX!
I am not a "lifestyle snob", really, but if a person is out of options and out of money, these predators should be jailed and banned from the Internet. I am a writer ,so really, the above are not too relevant...HOWEVER, this brings me to "Hired Board", Beyond.com" Elance, "My Writing Jobs", "Real Writing Jobs", "Hub Pages," and a slew of bogus insults. Forget them all, go back to school, get a job doing ANYTHING!
First of all, poor writer, bring money and lots of it. There are fees, commissions to pay to the sites should you get n assignment (not likely). Moe cash has to be invested totally disrespecting any talent that the writer may have. Money a must; talent unnecessary, no experience needed. Second of all, don't think that the assignments are valid...they don't exist. Third, for whichever "job" you bid, thinking there is a job, you won't get it because someone from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh will write a 750 word piece for $.25! That's not a typo, I meant TWENTY-FIVE CENTS FOR THE ENTIRE 750 WORDS ALTOGETHER. (NOT PER)
If these were legitimate jobs, I understand paying a commission to the company , in order to obtain them...AFTER the job is completed, paid from you to the Company. BUT...paying to "join" to troll for assorted flim-flam "opportunities" is sad and desperate. If an individual had the funds to "join" these "exclusive" and "wealth building" enterprises, he/she wouldn't NEED them!
So, THINK, THINK, THINK and be warned! Or, lose your shirt (pant, hat and coat as well!)
First of all, if Slick Sammy the Salesman was making mad money, hand over fist with a gimmick to allow him to swim in money, exactly WHY would ne be sharing with any assorted bored, broke, sluggish Internet surfing underachievers in their tidy-whities? Honestly, if you could make a bazillion dollars, would you share with a bazillion strangers? Maybe friends, family, but STRANGERS? Ah-ha...just as I thought!
"Ladies and gentlemen, step right up, move in a little closer, all you need is a computer, Internet connection, will and desire! We'll train you. Follow our step by step, proven methods!" If all of these claimants had megaphones, instead of snappy "volume controls", you'd think that you were walking the Net Midway through an alley of Barkers! What a carnival of garbage!
The scariest and yet most ridiculous scam out there on the "Work at Home" bandwagon is one where by, you have a "Mentor". Patty will phone and after a pep talk about how she is doing soooooo well working at home, directs you to write down your three goals, and on and on, moves in for the kill asking for $299 to begin making a Six Figure Income (would that be $000000?) immediately. After Patty is told that $299 isn't possible for a week or two, she then proposes, "Oh, I get it. It's tough. You'll be so glad that you are on track to do this though. So, I'll tell you what I'm going to do" (Original? Not hardly). "For $9.99, enthuses Patty, "I'll send you twelve bottles of the healthiest product ever formulated so that you learn to love it! We don't do sales, you will only manage your own site, your own business, but if you love the product, you will have an incentive to join the program! You can even put some in a cooler, when you visit friends or family and nonchalantly pull one out, start drinking and they'll want to know where you got it and how to buy some!" Whoa, wait a minute Patty! This was to make money from web pages...no sales, no inventory; no deliveries, etc. Where did cooler hawking come from? Now, can you picture stopping to visit a friend, having lunch, coffee, or tea with your daughter, Mom, sister and whipping out a cooler and think they will clamor for "hat?" Ah-ha...go to Northern Jersey or NYC with a cooler and have my Italian family even let me in the door as a peddler? My friends have breeding and money. "Here, Gail, when you are finished jetting between cruises, your houses, Ireland and while shopping at Bergdorf's, get jealous over this bug juice!" Or, "Hey Suzanne! Forget the Grey Goose and Dom's bubbly, have a zap of stupidity!" Or even better, at the next SAG-AFTRA mixer, meet and greet, I slam my cooler on the table and offer A and B Listers a swig of health! SERIOUSLY? I know, I know, at the next Hog Roast, with the Country music playing, the barn cleared for dancing, the steer out in the Adkins field; as cases of beer are iced, "Thanks for including this City Slicker again this year, Rick! I love this ho-down...how about tossing back some pure glutton free, low-cal, watery health?" SERIOUSLY? Patty and the cooler goo even outdid Lisa who swoops down on a poor soul's carcass after all else fails and sends: "Sorry you're having trouble. Click this link for an absolutely free opportunity." Adrian, in a video sales letter pushes his "social commission" scam then for a mere, $19.99 (instead of $99) AND after passing that screen, how about $99 (discounted from $399) for "set up" to this totally free, HOAX!
I am not a "lifestyle snob", really, but if a person is out of options and out of money, these predators should be jailed and banned from the Internet. I am a writer ,so really, the above are not too relevant...HOWEVER, this brings me to "Hired Board", Beyond.com" Elance, "My Writing Jobs", "Real Writing Jobs", "Hub Pages," and a slew of bogus insults. Forget them all, go back to school, get a job doing ANYTHING!
First of all, poor writer, bring money and lots of it. There are fees, commissions to pay to the sites should you get n assignment (not likely). Moe cash has to be invested totally disrespecting any talent that the writer may have. Money a must; talent unnecessary, no experience needed. Second of all, don't think that the assignments are valid...they don't exist. Third, for whichever "job" you bid, thinking there is a job, you won't get it because someone from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh will write a 750 word piece for $.25! That's not a typo, I meant TWENTY-FIVE CENTS FOR THE ENTIRE 750 WORDS ALTOGETHER. (NOT PER)
If these were legitimate jobs, I understand paying a commission to the company , in order to obtain them...AFTER the job is completed, paid from you to the Company. BUT...paying to "join" to troll for assorted flim-flam "opportunities" is sad and desperate. If an individual had the funds to "join" these "exclusive" and "wealth building" enterprises, he/she wouldn't NEED them!
So, THINK, THINK, THINK and be warned! Or, lose your shirt (pant, hat and coat as well!)
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
WWE, TODD AND ME
February - "Meme" (pronounced may-may), "don't you have to go to New York in April?" The question was posed by my nine year old grandson, who is used to me traveling here, there and everywhere from our home base in Ohio. His grandfather lives in Manhattan and my parents live nineteen miles from the Lincoln Tunnel on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River. Frequent trips home are the norm. "Well, we are going at the end of March for Easter, Todd, you know that. Maybe we'll take another trip later in the spring." That was not the answer Todd expected, wanted or accepted. "Oh", he replied dejectedly, "I thought we'd go, oh maybe, April, like the sixth. WWE will be there and maybe we could see it!"
Ah-Ha! Got it. "Well, let me see what I can do."
March 19 - "Here you go Todd! GEAR!" A delighted, excited little boy hastily slipped on a JUST BRING IT sweatshirt over a JUST BRING IT t-shirt and topped himself off with the official WWE "Rock" ball cap. Y-E-S-S-S!!! He grabbed his WWE championship belt (Santa provided that months ago) and couldn't contain himself as he made a "Kane" poster to hold up at, WWE SMACKDOWN in Cincinnati! "I can't believe this, Meme! We're going to see Ryback, Randy Orton, Shamus, Kane, the Shield, Big Show, Cody Rhodes,..." and on and on the cast/wrestlers were listed for a nearly four hour show! Todd gobbled up his ravioli faster than anyone can say ravioli, brushed his teeth and was literally jumping out of his skin as his little legs pumped and propelled him down the stairs, into the car to get to the US Bank Arena in Cincinnati, Ohio in time for the show!
During what should have been a forty-five minute ride from my home (north) to Cincinnati (south), Todd chattered, played various entrance themes on the phone...simply non-stop hype. I guaranteed him that we would be on time, even early. I asked a friend for directions. I printed out "Mapquest" directions as back up. Yes, I realize that I am crippled without a GPS. I surely get that. Todd in total exasperation, threw the directions over his shoulder, into the back seat as we crossed the Ohio River and read "Welcome to Kentucky" on a sign on a bridge. "Oh no! Meme! We're supposed to stay in Ohio, not go to Kentucky! We're lost! What about WWE?" I phoned the friend and screeched, "Hey, I'm on a bridge and I think that the Arena is behind me!" The response: "You over shot it. You're in Kentucky. Turn around and go back." Duh? Like I hadn't thought of that. So, as soon as I could make a U-Turn (I didn't say legally), we headed for Cincinnati (again). Some nice uniformed policemen guided me from the bridge, every few feet or so through my confusion.
As we parked the car, Todd noticed that we still had fifteen minutes to spare. "Whew Meme! Close one!"
Our seats were down on the floor, ringside! Todd looked at the ring, looked at the entrance stage, stood, looked around after comfortably negotiating his WWE Belt and sign, looked at me and said, "Wow, Meme! These are the best seats ever!" I smiled and didn't mention that they cost about the same as the national budget for a fiscal year of a small country. Collector cup for soda, popcorn and slushies were all rather fairly priced, I must admit.
I looked around the arena. There were families comprised of Dads, Moms and children. There were older couples- grandparents with children. There were men with boys, young and older. I saw some couples, men with boys and girls. I realized that, at least in the floor section and surrounding areas, I was the only single female with a child - Grandmother and Grandson. What would my grandmother say about a lady at a wrestling match, I wondered. Then, I remembered that my Great Aunt Carmela used to watch wrestling on television. She liked a wrestler named, "Gorgeous George". Nana didn't think that Carmela was much of a lady most of the time. And, Nana would be able to relate to an over the top, overly accommodating Grandmother anyway.
Special effects, pyrotechnics, lights, music were all amazing. One could become totally absorbed in the spirit and excitement of a match to begin as the powerful men made their entrances! When "Kane" came to our side of the ring, complete with entrance theme, effects including fire, light show and looked at Todd, I thought that Todd would stop breathing! His blue eyes were enormous! He gasped as he looked up at one of his heroes, standing directly in front of him, feeling the fire from his effects warming his little face! "Oh Meme!" Todd jumped up and down, screaming in the pandemonium, "This is the best day ever! This is the best night ever!"
Todd stood in the aisle, ringside for most of the evening. In reality, three different shows to be aired on television were being taped that night as well as "Smackdown". Between you and me, this is theatre. The "moves" are carefully choreographed. I would venture to say, WWE Wrestling is physical, musical, comedic theatre. Of course, the men are big, muscular, strong, impressive. Personalities shine through the massive, smoothly shaved (everywhere, except for some facial & a lot of head hair) as they strut their macho stuff. The wrestlers/performers/gymnasts endeared themselves to the spectators by radiating a certain camaraderie between themselves and enthusiastic fans, totally engrossed in the entire experience.
I know "fighting" is hostile, violent. This is really not the case with WWE. As I have mentioned, this is entertainment. The men train extensively to learn how to tumble, to take falls, to land, to give the illusion of certain "shots". But, it is physical fantasy. Children, of course, should be warned that these are well rehearsed professionals/gymnasts and that these antics should not be attempted by the untrained.
There is a patriotic, moral fiber that is woven through the performance. The WWE is charitable, globally. Our troops were saluted, honored frequently throughout the entertainment.
Though, I did my best to "get out of gym" while in school; though, I am not a fitness narc (lazy), I do walk and fret to maintain my weight and size 2. However, I appreciate the ability, strength, talent, maneuvers presented at a WWE performance. If children realize that this is theatre, the performers are actually rather good role models for the young fans out of the ring.
I am the ultimate audience member of EVERYTHING. Truly, I try to take the children to see everything, always. Circuses, Ice Shows, Musicals, Broadway shows, Elmo, Barney extravaganzas, etc. This is the first time that I have ever experienced a "Souvenir" stand, or "Merchandise" stand where items were not priced to support the transportation system of the small country I mentioned earlier. Nothing was "hawked/pushed". Hats and T-shirts (not $50 lights that have a 10 minute shelf life) were priced exactly as they are in stores or on the WWE website. Modestly. There was only one expensive replica of the WWE Championship belt that was not emphasized, highlighted, nor did the vendor try to entice ANYONE with it. Prices were reasonable, realistic, do-able. I compliment the WWE for "souvenir integrity".
After our "John Cena" T-shirt purchase, Todd wanted one fair well look at the Ring. Clutching his souvenir cup, new T-shirt, belt over shoulder and cap on head, he scanned the arena, the ring where he experienced the men he watches on television religiously. I fought tears when he turned and said, "Meme, I told you that this is the best night, ever! I'm so glad we came here together! Thanks Meme!"
We laughed, joked, re-hashed the evening's events on the drive home. I did not get lost because I started with a BFF in uniform to repeat directions to 75 N over and over. Todd was still at a feverish pitch with enthusiasm discussing Ryback, Big Show, Kane. Maybe next time Cena will be there, and so the conversation went.
I never, ever expected, in my life that I would be attending a Wrestling Match! I never, ever expected in my life that I would learn wrestlers' names, actually sit ringside and cheer! I was excited as Todd jumped up and down pointing at the "bad guys" - The Shield. I never, ever expected that I would join the crowd booing them as did Todd! I never, ever expected to say: "Next time we come, Todd, I think....." My devotion to Todd, my grandson was challenged and I thank God for the blessings that enabled me to come through with flying colors, as Todd has reported to everyone and anyone since we attended the Smackdown! I never, ever expected in my life that I would share with Todd and you, readers, that, "Wow! I just love THE ROCK!"
Ah-Ha! Got it. "Well, let me see what I can do."
March 19 - "Here you go Todd! GEAR!" A delighted, excited little boy hastily slipped on a JUST BRING IT sweatshirt over a JUST BRING IT t-shirt and topped himself off with the official WWE "Rock" ball cap. Y-E-S-S-S!!! He grabbed his WWE championship belt (Santa provided that months ago) and couldn't contain himself as he made a "Kane" poster to hold up at, WWE SMACKDOWN in Cincinnati! "I can't believe this, Meme! We're going to see Ryback, Randy Orton, Shamus, Kane, the Shield, Big Show, Cody Rhodes,..." and on and on the cast/wrestlers were listed for a nearly four hour show! Todd gobbled up his ravioli faster than anyone can say ravioli, brushed his teeth and was literally jumping out of his skin as his little legs pumped and propelled him down the stairs, into the car to get to the US Bank Arena in Cincinnati, Ohio in time for the show!
During what should have been a forty-five minute ride from my home (north) to Cincinnati (south), Todd chattered, played various entrance themes on the phone...simply non-stop hype. I guaranteed him that we would be on time, even early. I asked a friend for directions. I printed out "Mapquest" directions as back up. Yes, I realize that I am crippled without a GPS. I surely get that. Todd in total exasperation, threw the directions over his shoulder, into the back seat as we crossed the Ohio River and read "Welcome to Kentucky" on a sign on a bridge. "Oh no! Meme! We're supposed to stay in Ohio, not go to Kentucky! We're lost! What about WWE?" I phoned the friend and screeched, "Hey, I'm on a bridge and I think that the Arena is behind me!" The response: "You over shot it. You're in Kentucky. Turn around and go back." Duh? Like I hadn't thought of that. So, as soon as I could make a U-Turn (I didn't say legally), we headed for Cincinnati (again). Some nice uniformed policemen guided me from the bridge, every few feet or so through my confusion.
As we parked the car, Todd noticed that we still had fifteen minutes to spare. "Whew Meme! Close one!"
Our seats were down on the floor, ringside! Todd looked at the ring, looked at the entrance stage, stood, looked around after comfortably negotiating his WWE Belt and sign, looked at me and said, "Wow, Meme! These are the best seats ever!" I smiled and didn't mention that they cost about the same as the national budget for a fiscal year of a small country. Collector cup for soda, popcorn and slushies were all rather fairly priced, I must admit.
I looked around the arena. There were families comprised of Dads, Moms and children. There were older couples- grandparents with children. There were men with boys, young and older. I saw some couples, men with boys and girls. I realized that, at least in the floor section and surrounding areas, I was the only single female with a child - Grandmother and Grandson. What would my grandmother say about a lady at a wrestling match, I wondered. Then, I remembered that my Great Aunt Carmela used to watch wrestling on television. She liked a wrestler named, "Gorgeous George". Nana didn't think that Carmela was much of a lady most of the time. And, Nana would be able to relate to an over the top, overly accommodating Grandmother anyway.
Special effects, pyrotechnics, lights, music were all amazing. One could become totally absorbed in the spirit and excitement of a match to begin as the powerful men made their entrances! When "Kane" came to our side of the ring, complete with entrance theme, effects including fire, light show and looked at Todd, I thought that Todd would stop breathing! His blue eyes were enormous! He gasped as he looked up at one of his heroes, standing directly in front of him, feeling the fire from his effects warming his little face! "Oh Meme!" Todd jumped up and down, screaming in the pandemonium, "This is the best day ever! This is the best night ever!"
Todd stood in the aisle, ringside for most of the evening. In reality, three different shows to be aired on television were being taped that night as well as "Smackdown". Between you and me, this is theatre. The "moves" are carefully choreographed. I would venture to say, WWE Wrestling is physical, musical, comedic theatre. Of course, the men are big, muscular, strong, impressive. Personalities shine through the massive, smoothly shaved (everywhere, except for some facial & a lot of head hair) as they strut their macho stuff. The wrestlers/performers/gymnasts endeared themselves to the spectators by radiating a certain camaraderie between themselves and enthusiastic fans, totally engrossed in the entire experience.
I know "fighting" is hostile, violent. This is really not the case with WWE. As I have mentioned, this is entertainment. The men train extensively to learn how to tumble, to take falls, to land, to give the illusion of certain "shots". But, it is physical fantasy. Children, of course, should be warned that these are well rehearsed professionals/gymnasts and that these antics should not be attempted by the untrained.
There is a patriotic, moral fiber that is woven through the performance. The WWE is charitable, globally. Our troops were saluted, honored frequently throughout the entertainment.
Though, I did my best to "get out of gym" while in school; though, I am not a fitness narc (lazy), I do walk and fret to maintain my weight and size 2. However, I appreciate the ability, strength, talent, maneuvers presented at a WWE performance. If children realize that this is theatre, the performers are actually rather good role models for the young fans out of the ring.
I am the ultimate audience member of EVERYTHING. Truly, I try to take the children to see everything, always. Circuses, Ice Shows, Musicals, Broadway shows, Elmo, Barney extravaganzas, etc. This is the first time that I have ever experienced a "Souvenir" stand, or "Merchandise" stand where items were not priced to support the transportation system of the small country I mentioned earlier. Nothing was "hawked/pushed". Hats and T-shirts (not $50 lights that have a 10 minute shelf life) were priced exactly as they are in stores or on the WWE website. Modestly. There was only one expensive replica of the WWE Championship belt that was not emphasized, highlighted, nor did the vendor try to entice ANYONE with it. Prices were reasonable, realistic, do-able. I compliment the WWE for "souvenir integrity".
After our "John Cena" T-shirt purchase, Todd wanted one fair well look at the Ring. Clutching his souvenir cup, new T-shirt, belt over shoulder and cap on head, he scanned the arena, the ring where he experienced the men he watches on television religiously. I fought tears when he turned and said, "Meme, I told you that this is the best night, ever! I'm so glad we came here together! Thanks Meme!"
We laughed, joked, re-hashed the evening's events on the drive home. I did not get lost because I started with a BFF in uniform to repeat directions to 75 N over and over. Todd was still at a feverish pitch with enthusiasm discussing Ryback, Big Show, Kane. Maybe next time Cena will be there, and so the conversation went.
I never, ever expected, in my life that I would be attending a Wrestling Match! I never, ever expected in my life that I would learn wrestlers' names, actually sit ringside and cheer! I was excited as Todd jumped up and down pointing at the "bad guys" - The Shield. I never, ever expected that I would join the crowd booing them as did Todd! I never, ever expected to say: "Next time we come, Todd, I think....." My devotion to Todd, my grandson was challenged and I thank God for the blessings that enabled me to come through with flying colors, as Todd has reported to everyone and anyone since we attended the Smackdown! I never, ever expected in my life that I would share with Todd and you, readers, that, "Wow! I just love THE ROCK!"
Thursday, February 28, 2013
THE PALAZZO
There is a man of humble beginnings, as many of us are/were. He is a self proclaimed "black sheep" of his family. I do not judge such ranks to be honest. With honesty, I can say that he has climbed from modesty to self important pompous proportions. He is really quite impressed with himself and expects anyone he meets to be as impressed as he. He is narrow minded, prejudiced, phony, grudge holding, goofy, irrational, demanding, self-absorbed, illogical, immature. I mean, this is one tough person to take seriously. His hair line is receding, so I think that gifting a clown wig just might be appropriate.
On the positive side of this ridiculous person, and there is only one positive side, he has a work ethic that enables him to earn nobly. Then again, I once heard that "money is the root of all evil".
So, Mr. Dollars and Cents, bought an old, 1800's "house". To hear him tell it, it's a magnificent mansion with a name chiseled into the stone above a front "porch" under gargoyles. I call this, because the name is as ridiculous as he, THE KINGDOM. It had a river running in front of it; however, with progress, a four lane State Route whatever now separates The Kingdom from the water. The Palazzo doesn't have much yardage between the gargoyles and rumbling semi's. However, Mr. Dollars and Cents thinks the layout, palazzo, gargoyles are just beautiful and indicative of one wealthy man of which people are green with envy. (Actually, they are red, convulsed with laughter).
To obtain an invitation and to actually see the palazzo from the inside really does take a convulsion of nature. Truly. Once, for some reason, one passes muster and Mr. D & C is either drunk, sober, fleetingly nice, or realizes that your X might have a few doubloons himself, you just might gain entrance into the palace.
Here's the deal. Everything is orderly, ALWAYS. Nothing on walls, counters, no use of dishwasher (hand wash), no dish towels out. Absolutely NOTHING on a window sill. If a chair is moved and will be again in a few minutes, it must be replaced in its exact spot and moved again. He boasts of renovations, modernization, newest, latest technology. There is no "personality" of decor. Cold, uncomfortable showroom is the style of choice. I will give this point: the most enormous television ever dominates one sitting room. However, it has six remote controls and no one can figure it out...except occasionally him.
Sadly, children can hang no masterpieces on the refrigerator. There can be no personalized little wooden signs making their rooms "theirs".
BUT
He doesn't believe in garbage cans (like tall kitchen trash receptacle under a sink), waste baskets (bathroom refuse) or any sort of trash disposal in bedrooms. He permits plastic grocery bags to hang on a door knob, or cabinet door in the kitchen. The only acceptable item seen on the kitchen counter, near the double sink with garbage disposal proudly stands a plastic container (cereal box size). Into this receptacle food scraps, egg shells, cores, rinds, skin, bones, crusts, glop are stored until it is filled to overflowing. Once the container is full, it is walked outside into the "hay field" for disposal. BUT: there is no field, no hay, no compost pile. There are no pigs to feed. Is it me? Q-tips, cotton balls, tissues, empty toilet paper rolls...on the counters. His illogic, "That's what ______'s are for." (His twice a week housekeeper's name) Personally, I think that it's disgusting. But, that is just me.
There are three bedrooms in the Kingdom. No joke. Two of them have NO CLOSETS. None. There are four bathrooms in the Palazzo. You are not ready for the physical requirements to use any of this: In one bathroom, unless you strain all possible arm muscles to have the lever work to flush...it won't! I think I sprained my wrist. I tried sharing an upstairs bathroom with the children. For the first time, I found a "dry clean only" shower. Only the hot water runs and at a trickle at that! The toilet in that bathroom really could put someone in traction; or at least a candidate for acupuncture and a chiropractor. If you have the misfortune to use that toilet, you can flush, then jump up, spin around, lift and open the tank top, push a stopper down and replace lid! If you forget, the next user is cooked. However, repeating that a few times during a stay is absolutely exhausting! There is a bathroom down in, what I would call, a "Man Cave". I think that nothing is connected. Pristine and off limits.
Speaking of not connected: In an upstairs hallway between two closet-less bedrooms, there is a smart glass and iron table with a lamp still sporting clear plastic on its shade. There is no bulb and there is no connection! The still wrapped cord hangs with no purpose!
Now, there are some of you saying, "Come on now, Laura, STOP! It's an old house! We are the poster family of an "old house". We owned a house on Long Beach Island, New Jersey which was built in 1863. It had three stories, eight bedrooms (nine if you counted the maid's room). Electricity was installed by those cute little round switches and wires ran under the transoms. You could hold your lodge meetings in our bedroom closets. I know from OLD and RENOVATION. I will tell you about that house one day, but I assure you that up on the third floor, you could sing in the shower just as heartily as you could on the first! Our children were allowed to live in the house, enjoy it and we welcomed family, friends, constantly! BUT...we never bragged, snubbed, judged.
What makes THE PALAZZO a tour of medieval reform school is not just the misery imposed by the building, but the personality of its jailer.
On the positive side of this ridiculous person, and there is only one positive side, he has a work ethic that enables him to earn nobly. Then again, I once heard that "money is the root of all evil".
So, Mr. Dollars and Cents, bought an old, 1800's "house". To hear him tell it, it's a magnificent mansion with a name chiseled into the stone above a front "porch" under gargoyles. I call this, because the name is as ridiculous as he, THE KINGDOM. It had a river running in front of it; however, with progress, a four lane State Route whatever now separates The Kingdom from the water. The Palazzo doesn't have much yardage between the gargoyles and rumbling semi's. However, Mr. Dollars and Cents thinks the layout, palazzo, gargoyles are just beautiful and indicative of one wealthy man of which people are green with envy. (Actually, they are red, convulsed with laughter).
To obtain an invitation and to actually see the palazzo from the inside really does take a convulsion of nature. Truly. Once, for some reason, one passes muster and Mr. D & C is either drunk, sober, fleetingly nice, or realizes that your X might have a few doubloons himself, you just might gain entrance into the palace.
Here's the deal. Everything is orderly, ALWAYS. Nothing on walls, counters, no use of dishwasher (hand wash), no dish towels out. Absolutely NOTHING on a window sill. If a chair is moved and will be again in a few minutes, it must be replaced in its exact spot and moved again. He boasts of renovations, modernization, newest, latest technology. There is no "personality" of decor. Cold, uncomfortable showroom is the style of choice. I will give this point: the most enormous television ever dominates one sitting room. However, it has six remote controls and no one can figure it out...except occasionally him.
Sadly, children can hang no masterpieces on the refrigerator. There can be no personalized little wooden signs making their rooms "theirs".
BUT
He doesn't believe in garbage cans (like tall kitchen trash receptacle under a sink), waste baskets (bathroom refuse) or any sort of trash disposal in bedrooms. He permits plastic grocery bags to hang on a door knob, or cabinet door in the kitchen. The only acceptable item seen on the kitchen counter, near the double sink with garbage disposal proudly stands a plastic container (cereal box size). Into this receptacle food scraps, egg shells, cores, rinds, skin, bones, crusts, glop are stored until it is filled to overflowing. Once the container is full, it is walked outside into the "hay field" for disposal. BUT: there is no field, no hay, no compost pile. There are no pigs to feed. Is it me? Q-tips, cotton balls, tissues, empty toilet paper rolls...on the counters. His illogic, "That's what ______'s are for." (His twice a week housekeeper's name) Personally, I think that it's disgusting. But, that is just me.
There are three bedrooms in the Kingdom. No joke. Two of them have NO CLOSETS. None. There are four bathrooms in the Palazzo. You are not ready for the physical requirements to use any of this: In one bathroom, unless you strain all possible arm muscles to have the lever work to flush...it won't! I think I sprained my wrist. I tried sharing an upstairs bathroom with the children. For the first time, I found a "dry clean only" shower. Only the hot water runs and at a trickle at that! The toilet in that bathroom really could put someone in traction; or at least a candidate for acupuncture and a chiropractor. If you have the misfortune to use that toilet, you can flush, then jump up, spin around, lift and open the tank top, push a stopper down and replace lid! If you forget, the next user is cooked. However, repeating that a few times during a stay is absolutely exhausting! There is a bathroom down in, what I would call, a "Man Cave". I think that nothing is connected. Pristine and off limits.
Speaking of not connected: In an upstairs hallway between two closet-less bedrooms, there is a smart glass and iron table with a lamp still sporting clear plastic on its shade. There is no bulb and there is no connection! The still wrapped cord hangs with no purpose!
Now, there are some of you saying, "Come on now, Laura, STOP! It's an old house! We are the poster family of an "old house". We owned a house on Long Beach Island, New Jersey which was built in 1863. It had three stories, eight bedrooms (nine if you counted the maid's room). Electricity was installed by those cute little round switches and wires ran under the transoms. You could hold your lodge meetings in our bedroom closets. I know from OLD and RENOVATION. I will tell you about that house one day, but I assure you that up on the third floor, you could sing in the shower just as heartily as you could on the first! Our children were allowed to live in the house, enjoy it and we welcomed family, friends, constantly! BUT...we never bragged, snubbed, judged.
What makes THE PALAZZO a tour of medieval reform school is not just the misery imposed by the building, but the personality of its jailer.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
WE'RE NOT COMING BACK, ARE WE?
A friend's Dad passed away last week. He was 98 years old. When I visited Jim about a week or so before that, I was in the company of an older gentleman with a twinkle in now cloudy blue eyes. That foggy twinkle revealed to me a rascal, as Tiff says. He was a young widower, a flirt with appreciation for the ladies, literature, the arts, finance, hard work. Now feeble, stooped, slow but grasping at the wit, the humor he once knew. Eyes faded, hearing challenged, he gracefully slipped into life everlasting. My daughter was the last living individual he saw, who's arms he felt as he met his wife who had been waiting for him for years.
At the funeral parlor, on a Friday evening, I viewed a slide show. There before me, I saw a young handsome man, a beautiful bride, attractive children in various stages of growth, maturity. I saw homes, land, celebrations, joy, life in its fullest prime. Exactly when did he age? Where is the boundary between vitality from one day to fragility on the next?
At the cemetery, after a service on the following morning, my mind swirled with questions and thoughts that I set aside as we continued through the funeral (which my Grandmother always said is for the living...the deceased, by then, was doing just fine) I had hustled the trio into their suits, ties, and a pretty dress. The four of us stood, listened, fidgeted, embraced other mourners, prayed.
And so, he rests, celebrates his life, relaxes in the joy of everlasting life. I can resume my questions and thoughts...
I see myself in the mirror. I see myself everyday. Often, many, many times in a day (I'm like that, you know). When did I acquire "age"? Where is the defining line between the child that I saw every day and the woman (with three grandchildren) that I see every day? Exactly when did that first grey hair appear on you, on your Mom? Just when did that hairline recede on your Dad? Do my parents see the young GI returning from WWII and the young NYU student with perfect skin, a twenty inch waist and long brunette hair today at 86 and 84 years old? Where is the boundary between the two year old who called me "Warrie" and the woman who calls her older sister (me) with stories of my nephew and his fraternity brothers and my niece's latest hair craze? Where is the baby, that I saw every day, changed every day, who now phones me with a laundry list of, "Mom, when do we want to schedule our Spring book event?" Did I blink to long? Where is the little girl with whom I would spend countless hours in ballet studios, nearly every day of her childhood, who now commands my new skin care, anti-aging regime?
Where is the definition between the free spirit with hair down to her a-a-a to the grandmother, who receives calls and directives from grandchildren who squeal with delight when Meme (may-may) arrives? When did the participants at the tea table change from afternoon tea with Nana, to a tea party with Tess? I swear, she was there a minute ago. I swear, I was Tess a minute ago. Where? When?
I watched myself in the mirror before dates, getting my hair and make-up "just right" while battling hic-cups. I see that same face...or so I think. I battle those same hic-cups (not as frequently) before "an occasion of state" or at least I think they are the same!
We see ourselves every day. We see each other (family, friends) every day. Exactly how, when did we evolve into the older, busier versions of the blissful children that we were? Was there a Disney time-lapse episode going on that I missed? That you missed?
When did the stroller turn into a tricycle, to a bicycle, to a racing bicycle, to a Harley or a Convertible? When did I turn from the "Mistress of the Kitchen" to a collaborator and second in command with our Four Generation Cookbook as my son takes lead? When did I evolve into the "Meme" from the driver for a prima ballerina and solver of assorted social, beauty, domestic issues and a confidant?
If I hadn't a wrinkle, exactly what is the anniversary of the first one? If I had low lights, highlights, exactly when did it become mandatory to "touch up" roots? How did pound by pound we gain or lose weight? What day do some move from thin to fat? Exactly where does weight go when we go from heavy to slight? I have been known to lament about gaining "The Ohio Ten". I lost it (in Reunion Book), but where did it go?
We see US and each other every day. We laugh, cry, play, pray together everyday. Exactly when, how before our eyes slipped in between blinks, did we become what we are right now, tomorrow, next year?
I want to find that boundary, that definitive line that marks change. Steve always maintained that I do not take to change very well. Actually, I don't take to change AT ALL. Are our lives a slide show to ignite wonder, to retrace our steps from there to here?
Two things that we can bear in mind, inspired from two books that I read when I was younger:
1. If you realize that there is no perfect Utopia, accept it, "work with it". Then you are always bound to have A FAIRLY GOOD TIME.
2. SPEND ALL OF YOUR KISSES here and now...you can't take them with you, when you go!
As Jim's son said, "We're not coming back, are we?"
At the funeral parlor, on a Friday evening, I viewed a slide show. There before me, I saw a young handsome man, a beautiful bride, attractive children in various stages of growth, maturity. I saw homes, land, celebrations, joy, life in its fullest prime. Exactly when did he age? Where is the boundary between vitality from one day to fragility on the next?
At the cemetery, after a service on the following morning, my mind swirled with questions and thoughts that I set aside as we continued through the funeral (which my Grandmother always said is for the living...the deceased, by then, was doing just fine) I had hustled the trio into their suits, ties, and a pretty dress. The four of us stood, listened, fidgeted, embraced other mourners, prayed.
And so, he rests, celebrates his life, relaxes in the joy of everlasting life. I can resume my questions and thoughts...
I see myself in the mirror. I see myself everyday. Often, many, many times in a day (I'm like that, you know). When did I acquire "age"? Where is the defining line between the child that I saw every day and the woman (with three grandchildren) that I see every day? Exactly when did that first grey hair appear on you, on your Mom? Just when did that hairline recede on your Dad? Do my parents see the young GI returning from WWII and the young NYU student with perfect skin, a twenty inch waist and long brunette hair today at 86 and 84 years old? Where is the boundary between the two year old who called me "Warrie" and the woman who calls her older sister (me) with stories of my nephew and his fraternity brothers and my niece's latest hair craze? Where is the baby, that I saw every day, changed every day, who now phones me with a laundry list of, "Mom, when do we want to schedule our Spring book event?" Did I blink to long? Where is the little girl with whom I would spend countless hours in ballet studios, nearly every day of her childhood, who now commands my new skin care, anti-aging regime?
Where is the definition between the free spirit with hair down to her a-a-a to the grandmother, who receives calls and directives from grandchildren who squeal with delight when Meme (may-may) arrives? When did the participants at the tea table change from afternoon tea with Nana, to a tea party with Tess? I swear, she was there a minute ago. I swear, I was Tess a minute ago. Where? When?
I watched myself in the mirror before dates, getting my hair and make-up "just right" while battling hic-cups. I see that same face...or so I think. I battle those same hic-cups (not as frequently) before "an occasion of state" or at least I think they are the same!
We see ourselves every day. We see each other (family, friends) every day. Exactly how, when did we evolve into the older, busier versions of the blissful children that we were? Was there a Disney time-lapse episode going on that I missed? That you missed?
When did the stroller turn into a tricycle, to a bicycle, to a racing bicycle, to a Harley or a Convertible? When did I turn from the "Mistress of the Kitchen" to a collaborator and second in command with our Four Generation Cookbook as my son takes lead? When did I evolve into the "Meme" from the driver for a prima ballerina and solver of assorted social, beauty, domestic issues and a confidant?
If I hadn't a wrinkle, exactly what is the anniversary of the first one? If I had low lights, highlights, exactly when did it become mandatory to "touch up" roots? How did pound by pound we gain or lose weight? What day do some move from thin to fat? Exactly where does weight go when we go from heavy to slight? I have been known to lament about gaining "The Ohio Ten". I lost it (in Reunion Book), but where did it go?
We see US and each other every day. We laugh, cry, play, pray together everyday. Exactly when, how before our eyes slipped in between blinks, did we become what we are right now, tomorrow, next year?
I want to find that boundary, that definitive line that marks change. Steve always maintained that I do not take to change very well. Actually, I don't take to change AT ALL. Are our lives a slide show to ignite wonder, to retrace our steps from there to here?
Two things that we can bear in mind, inspired from two books that I read when I was younger:
1. If you realize that there is no perfect Utopia, accept it, "work with it". Then you are always bound to have A FAIRLY GOOD TIME.
2. SPEND ALL OF YOUR KISSES here and now...you can't take them with you, when you go!
As Jim's son said, "We're not coming back, are we?"
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