Every Christmas season, I transform into Mrs. Claus...shhhhh....don't tell the Grandchildren. I am hired at department stores, malls, private parties to jingle my bell wreath, spread cheer, sometimes read stories and share cookies. I love my Mrs. Claus alter ego. I do volunteer gigs at the local VA and assorted nursing homes. I dress at home and arrive at assorted venues in costume.
Last Monday, I was asked by a friend to visit a nursing home. I went, jingled bells, chatted with residents, distributed goodies with a few elves. We had so much fun. On the way back to my gingerbread cottage, I notice that the gas tank was totally empty. Fumes must have carried me into a gas station. In New Jersey, a driver remains in his/her car and an attendant pumps gas. Not so in Ohio. UGH...So, I got out of my vehicle decked out as the Mrs. of the Season. Before I managed to get around the car to the tank, a young father and mother with a toddler in their back seat stopped, near the pumps. "Hey! You're Mrs. Claus! Can I get your picture with my son?" I smiled, said: "Merry Christmas! Of course. The little boy was tense and unsure of the prospect of a strange stranger holding him. I suggested that the mother hold him and Dad snap the picture of us together. He loved it. Then, she took a picture of Dad, Toddler and me. As they were trying to figure out a group selfie, a man pulled up in the biggest pick up truck that I have ever seen. He jumped out of the tank and exclaimed: "Hey, I'm running late here! I need to fill up! I can't get near the pumps. What's goin' on here? Oh my God! Are you Mrs. Claus?" I smiled and responded: "Hi! Merry Christmas!" Young Dad said: "Hey pal, give me your phone, I'll take a picture of you with Mrs. Claus!" Pick up truck man: "Great idea! My pals will believe me that I'm late because I ran into Mrs. Claus if I have a picture!" As we posed and Dad snapped, an old, old man in a rusty, rusty, old, old truck came chugging up to us. He rolled down his window (yes, you could see the motion) and grouched: "What the heck is goin' on here? I need gas and holy cow! Are you Mrs. Claus? Where's your old man?" I smiled and said: "Merry Christmas! He's back at the North Pole getting ready for Christmas Eve, so I'm out and about for him." Old Man: "Well, honey, you just get back there and tell him that I want my own oil tanker, 'cause, I need gas!" With that Pick Up Truck man said: "Hey, relax, let me get your picture with Mrs. Claus." Old Man got out of his car, was putting his arm around me as the longest, oldest, most pristine Cadillac pulled up with an elegant, elderly woman at the wheel. Her window went down and she said: "I need to fill my tank. I don't see Mrs. Claus do I? If I tell my daughter, she will surely take my keys thinking that I'm hallucinating!" Young Dad, as Young Mom now started chasing Toddler said: "Come on over here M'am. Let's get you a picture with the real Mrs. Claus to shut up your daughter!" So, Elderly Woman eased out of her car with the assistance of Old Grouchy Man.
Eventually, cell phones, cell phone numbers were being passed around. Group selfie shots, individual shots of potential gas station customers being taken. Laughing, talking, singing "We Wish You A Merry Christmas!" Then, Gas Station Manager swaggered out to the congested pump area deeply entrenched in a traffic jam. "What's goin' on out here folks? Oh, man, are you Mrs. Claus? Geeze" I maintained my character: "Merry Christmas, Sir! I stopped for gas and apparently drew a croud." With this Dad asked Manager: "Hey, buddy, could you get a group shot of my friends here with me and Mrs. Claus?" Manager grimaced, shrugged, said: "Oh, what the H---" and arranged us for an optimal photo.
Gas Station Manager, then filled my tank, told me to tell Santa how generous he was and wished me a Merry Christmas. My other new friends, all waved as I pulled out and cried: "Thank you, Mrs. Claus! Merry Christmas to you!"
Of all of the performing that I have done over the years, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be the MAIN ATTRACTION AT A GAS STATION!
Laura Macy Author & Actress
Friday, December 25, 2015
Monday, November 30, 2015
LET'S WATCH THE MACY'S THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE! (OR ARE YOU COMFORTABLE?)
Thanksgiving morning tradition - THE MACY'S THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE! I have never missed one in my entire life (and I am not a child). Every Thanksgiving morning, while my Mom and Grandmother bustled around the kitchen, I sat glued to the television watching the Parade sparkle through Manhattan and round the corner in front of Macy's. The bands, Rockettes, balloons, the performances from Broadway Musicals and the best of the best - the parade always ended as Santa Claus, in his sleigh, rode down Broadway waving. I would call out to my Grandmother - "Nana! Look !" She would respond, ooo and ahhhh...My eyes would tear as I watched Santa approach...oh how I believe(d)
During High School, I did miss four parades. I was a baton twirler and our final football game against our arch rival - Passaic Valley was held on Thanksgiving morning. That was before days of "recording" television shows to enjoy later.
When my children were young, with their Dad, we would watch while enjoying breakfast. My Mom still made Thanksgiving Dinner, so we could spend the time together watching, until we got ready and went to my parents' house. When Santa pulled up the rear, yes, my eyes teared.
Todd phoned me from his home in Zanesville, Ohio. His Mom (my daughter) was bustling around her own kitchen preparing for the holiday with her in-laws. I sat on my couch, in Kettering, Ohio, 132 miles from them tuning in the Parade when my phone twinkled (Ring Tone sounds like Tinkerbell coming in for a landing). "Hello?" Twelve year old Todd: "Hey! Meme (may may), it's Thanksgiving! Are you watching the parade? I'm sitting in the living room and the parade came on the television. I don't know where the kids are (his sister and brother, 11 and 8 years old respectively), wanna watch with me?" I said I would love to! With no heads blocking our view, I knew he could see...so: "Are you comfortable?" sounded logical. "Yep, Meme! How about you?" Not to disturb the announcing and music, we texted for three hours as each performer, band, group, character, balloon came into view and clowns tumbled across the screen. We commented on the patter of the announcers, trivia, facts. I am not wild about the red power ranger, how about that, Felix was the first balloon, here's Elmo, I don't like that song and what in the world is she wearing! During commercials, we would grab a snack, something to drink, rehash what we had seen, speaking on our phones.
Commercial break...and then...
Finally, after three hours, as noon came upon us, there he was...Santa Claus with Mrs. Claus! They sat majestically in the sleigh! They waved, he repeatedly said: "Merry Christmas!" and there followed a few Ho-Ho-Ho's! "Todd! Do you see? Here comes Santa!" Todd: "Meme! This is so exciting! I'm so glad that we watched together!" I replied that I would never have it any other way! "Meme! He's looking right at us!" (Santa caught the camera angle perfectly) "Todd, I know, I know! Oh my! I do believe, I do believe!" Todd: "Meme! Happy Thanksgiving! I love you! We;ll see you the day after tomorrow for our Thanksgiving, But, we watched the best thing together! That was all we need! To be together and have fun, sitting on our couches." Me: "Yes, Todd, watching together and sharing the first look at Santa for the season!" As usual, I became weepy. All of the years past and I wanted to believe with Todd, now, Do you think he does?
Who would have thought, we watched the parade together and were very comfortable!
During High School, I did miss four parades. I was a baton twirler and our final football game against our arch rival - Passaic Valley was held on Thanksgiving morning. That was before days of "recording" television shows to enjoy later.
When my children were young, with their Dad, we would watch while enjoying breakfast. My Mom still made Thanksgiving Dinner, so we could spend the time together watching, until we got ready and went to my parents' house. When Santa pulled up the rear, yes, my eyes teared.
Todd phoned me from his home in Zanesville, Ohio. His Mom (my daughter) was bustling around her own kitchen preparing for the holiday with her in-laws. I sat on my couch, in Kettering, Ohio, 132 miles from them tuning in the Parade when my phone twinkled (Ring Tone sounds like Tinkerbell coming in for a landing). "Hello?" Twelve year old Todd: "Hey! Meme (may may), it's Thanksgiving! Are you watching the parade? I'm sitting in the living room and the parade came on the television. I don't know where the kids are (his sister and brother, 11 and 8 years old respectively), wanna watch with me?" I said I would love to! With no heads blocking our view, I knew he could see...so: "Are you comfortable?" sounded logical. "Yep, Meme! How about you?" Not to disturb the announcing and music, we texted for three hours as each performer, band, group, character, balloon came into view and clowns tumbled across the screen. We commented on the patter of the announcers, trivia, facts. I am not wild about the red power ranger, how about that, Felix was the first balloon, here's Elmo, I don't like that song and what in the world is she wearing! During commercials, we would grab a snack, something to drink, rehash what we had seen, speaking on our phones.
Commercial break...and then...
Finally, after three hours, as noon came upon us, there he was...Santa Claus with Mrs. Claus! They sat majestically in the sleigh! They waved, he repeatedly said: "Merry Christmas!" and there followed a few Ho-Ho-Ho's! "Todd! Do you see? Here comes Santa!" Todd: "Meme! This is so exciting! I'm so glad that we watched together!" I replied that I would never have it any other way! "Meme! He's looking right at us!" (Santa caught the camera angle perfectly) "Todd, I know, I know! Oh my! I do believe, I do believe!" Todd: "Meme! Happy Thanksgiving! I love you! We;ll see you the day after tomorrow for our Thanksgiving, But, we watched the best thing together! That was all we need! To be together and have fun, sitting on our couches." Me: "Yes, Todd, watching together and sharing the first look at Santa for the season!" As usual, I became weepy. All of the years past and I wanted to believe with Todd, now, Do you think he does?
Who would have thought, we watched the parade together and were very comfortable!
Monday, November 16, 2015
TURN UP THE RADIO!
One Monday afternoon, as I drove along one of Kettering, Ohio's main streets, I chatted on the phone with my daughter, listening to "60's on 6", I thought that my car felt funny. "Tiff, gee, I'm glad that this car goes back to the dealer next week for it's second and third recalls. It just is dragging. I have no pep, life, whatever." Tiff, who graduated with honors in Anthropology and Archaeology used her fine mind, gave it some thought and offered: "Really?" I turned up the Radio and sang along to "Rag Doll"/
The next day, in bright sunshine, clear skies and roads, I drove along Kettering's Dorothy Lane. That happened to be the exact location where I noticed my dragging car the day before. Oh, the noise and dragging was far worse than the curious car behavior that I experienced on Monday. I slowed down, turned up the Radio and began tentatively singing "Same Old Song" (I love Motown). Suddenly, a Red Jeep, roared up to my rear bumper. A nice man jumped from the Jeep, waving his arms. He screamed: "Whoa, wait! Stop driving! You are going to ruin the underside of your car! You're dragging a guard rail, or something!" I jumped out of my car, ran to the rear where he was hopping and pointing: "Didn't you hear that? Didn't you feel that?" There was a longish, white thing sticking out from my undercarriage and something jazzy with the rear passenger side wheel. "Wow!" I said, "I thought that the car was dragging yesterday and something sounded clunky." Nice Red Jeep Man: "Why did you ignore it?" Me: "Oh, I didn't. I thought, next week, I'm glad that I am going to the dealer for recalls. Wait until the mechanics hear/ feel this. Then, I turned up the Radio!"
Nice Red Jeep Man was about to shake his head off of his shoulders, listening to me when a Fire Truck, lights on and all, pulled up behind his. "What's going on here? Anyone need help?" Three good looking, I mean gorgeous, Fire Men approached Red Jeep Man and me. Do you think that Fire Men have to pass a "drop dead handsome" test to qualify to fight fires and rescue kookie motorists? Anyway, Red Jeep Man said to the shortest of the trio: "Hey, help me get this thing out from under her car." As Fire Man Number One helped Red Jeep Man, Fire Men Number Two and Three did their best to raise the rear end of the car slightly and access the damage (none) to the wheel. Finally, my passenger side narrow lower panel was being held aloft by the victorious "extractors".
A Police Man then pulled up. He swaggered to the new motor community, now gathered in the middle of Dorothy Lane and said: " Hey" Don't I know you?" he said, pointing to me. Well, he was instrumental in the wall paper in my room...speeding tickets. "What seems to be the problem here? One at a time, please!" Red Jeep Man: "Officer, there is no problem. We have just..." Fire Man Number One: "pulled what looks like part of her car out from under it." Me: "I just can't believe that! I thought that the clunking and dragging were due to the recalls that will be taken care of next week! I just can't stand the thought that there is something wrong with the body of the car! I just picked it up from the body shop last week and now my car isn't perfect anymore!" As I fought back tears, Fire Man Number Two searched for a tissue, but Fire Man Number Three was quicker and better equipped. Police Man: "Ma'm.." Now that made me more angry than sad. "Did you say that you have just picked this vehicle up from a body shop? What was the nature of the damage that you had repaired and exactly where on this vehicle?" As the male tide parted, I walked the length of my passenger side and pointed out the exact replacements and repairs necessary after the West Virginian van wandered my lane en route to see the Pope. "Whoa, whoa, little lady!" (I kinda liked that better.) said Police Man. "Do you mean to tell me that this fell from the same side that was repaired? Better bring this back to the body shop. This wasn't connected properly. You probably drove and loosened it until it fell off. What I don't get is, why did you continue driving? A sound and drag would have nothing to do with computer system recalls to this vehicle. I've been reading up on this!" Unable to answer quickly, he dismissed the crowd, that I thanked profusely.
As the gentlemen prepared to pull away, Mr. Police Man turned his attention again to me: "Now, just satisfy my curiosity. You drove this car like this yesterday, I understand. You were driving it today. What did you think you would do if this continued? You were dragging pieces of your vehicle! You stood to ruin your car!" I thought about it for a nano-second and knowing, honesty is always the best policy, I quickly responded: "Well, Sir, simply put: TURN UP THE RADIO!"
The next day, in bright sunshine, clear skies and roads, I drove along Kettering's Dorothy Lane. That happened to be the exact location where I noticed my dragging car the day before. Oh, the noise and dragging was far worse than the curious car behavior that I experienced on Monday. I slowed down, turned up the Radio and began tentatively singing "Same Old Song" (I love Motown). Suddenly, a Red Jeep, roared up to my rear bumper. A nice man jumped from the Jeep, waving his arms. He screamed: "Whoa, wait! Stop driving! You are going to ruin the underside of your car! You're dragging a guard rail, or something!" I jumped out of my car, ran to the rear where he was hopping and pointing: "Didn't you hear that? Didn't you feel that?" There was a longish, white thing sticking out from my undercarriage and something jazzy with the rear passenger side wheel. "Wow!" I said, "I thought that the car was dragging yesterday and something sounded clunky." Nice Red Jeep Man: "Why did you ignore it?" Me: "Oh, I didn't. I thought, next week, I'm glad that I am going to the dealer for recalls. Wait until the mechanics hear/ feel this. Then, I turned up the Radio!"
Nice Red Jeep Man was about to shake his head off of his shoulders, listening to me when a Fire Truck, lights on and all, pulled up behind his. "What's going on here? Anyone need help?" Three good looking, I mean gorgeous, Fire Men approached Red Jeep Man and me. Do you think that Fire Men have to pass a "drop dead handsome" test to qualify to fight fires and rescue kookie motorists? Anyway, Red Jeep Man said to the shortest of the trio: "Hey, help me get this thing out from under her car." As Fire Man Number One helped Red Jeep Man, Fire Men Number Two and Three did their best to raise the rear end of the car slightly and access the damage (none) to the wheel. Finally, my passenger side narrow lower panel was being held aloft by the victorious "extractors".
A Police Man then pulled up. He swaggered to the new motor community, now gathered in the middle of Dorothy Lane and said: " Hey" Don't I know you?" he said, pointing to me. Well, he was instrumental in the wall paper in my room...speeding tickets. "What seems to be the problem here? One at a time, please!" Red Jeep Man: "Officer, there is no problem. We have just..." Fire Man Number One: "pulled what looks like part of her car out from under it." Me: "I just can't believe that! I thought that the clunking and dragging were due to the recalls that will be taken care of next week! I just can't stand the thought that there is something wrong with the body of the car! I just picked it up from the body shop last week and now my car isn't perfect anymore!" As I fought back tears, Fire Man Number Two searched for a tissue, but Fire Man Number Three was quicker and better equipped. Police Man: "Ma'm.." Now that made me more angry than sad. "Did you say that you have just picked this vehicle up from a body shop? What was the nature of the damage that you had repaired and exactly where on this vehicle?" As the male tide parted, I walked the length of my passenger side and pointed out the exact replacements and repairs necessary after the West Virginian van wandered my lane en route to see the Pope. "Whoa, whoa, little lady!" (I kinda liked that better.) said Police Man. "Do you mean to tell me that this fell from the same side that was repaired? Better bring this back to the body shop. This wasn't connected properly. You probably drove and loosened it until it fell off. What I don't get is, why did you continue driving? A sound and drag would have nothing to do with computer system recalls to this vehicle. I've been reading up on this!" Unable to answer quickly, he dismissed the crowd, that I thanked profusely.
As the gentlemen prepared to pull away, Mr. Police Man turned his attention again to me: "Now, just satisfy my curiosity. You drove this car like this yesterday, I understand. You were driving it today. What did you think you would do if this continued? You were dragging pieces of your vehicle! You stood to ruin your car!" I thought about it for a nano-second and knowing, honesty is always the best policy, I quickly responded: "Well, Sir, simply put: TURN UP THE RADIO!"
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
PAPAL ROAD TRIP (or Francis Trumps WWE)
My best friend Gail were sitting on the porch of her beach house in Ocean Grove, New Jersey having a conversation about Pope Francis I's visit to New York the following month. "Laura, we saw Pope John Paul II at the Meadowlands, years ago. If Steve is a Deacon at St. Patrick's why are we not going to see Pope Francis in September?" That lit my fire and I lunged for my phone. "Hey, Steve! You are a Jesuit Deacon at St. Patrick's! You are on the altar regularly. The Cardinal will host the Pope right under your nose! Gail and I need tickets to see the Pope!"
Two weeks later, Gail and I were outfitted with tickets to see the Pope at a meet and greet in Central Park. We were provided with official letters to cut through various degrees of red tape. I enlisted a substitute to take my second grade Sunday School Class and fretted about wardrobe.
UNTIL...
My phone sounds like Tinkerbell coming in for a landing. About three days before I was to leave Ohio to journey to New York, my phone twinkled. It was Todd, now twelve years old. "Hey Meme! (may-may) Mommy said you are going to see the Pope! How could you go without me! We go to Catholic School! I feel on fire when we are at Mass! How could you not let me meet the Pope without me?" What could I do? "Todd, don't you have a three day science camping thing with your school on those days? You would miss it!" He pierced through cyber space with: "It's a Catholic school, Meme! Of course I want to see the Pope!" So, I did what every logical, practical grandmother would do: "Todd, don't worry, we're leaving on Wednesday. You will see Pope Francis! Road Trip!"
NEXT...
I phoned Steve. Did I mention that we divorced fifteen years ago? "Steve, Todd is coming with me. I need a letter for him, a ticket for him for whatever. He's counting on us to pull this off!" Response: "There is no way! I just don't think that I can do it!" Refusing to accept that, I said: "Work your magic, pray, do something. Todd must come along and see the Pope! That's that!" Response: "Always a pleasure talking to you, Laura. Just speak up and make yourself clear. I'll see, but I doubt it."
SO...
I campaigned, phoned, texted just so that he wouldn't forget. I prayed and whined. St. Jude has a headache, no doubt. At Mass I silently ranted prayers for Todd to be able to come to New York with me. As I stood in the garage working on a painting project, I prayed and prayed and prayed. Tinkerbell landed and my phone twinkled like a starry night. It was Steve! "Bring Todd along. He's in! He can come to the Pope's arrival at the Cathedral." I did the happy, thank you dance as I phoned Todd and told him to start packing. The next morning, the situation got better...official letter and ticket to go to the Central Park Meet and Greet! And then, miracles just kept falling into my lap! We attained yet another ticket. Gail's sister in law said that the night before, she just knew that she would see the Pope...she did!
ON THE ROAD
We left full of joy and expectations! Todd took charge of the radio, we sang, laughed, planned our dinner, knew we would make it to the hotel half way in time for a swim in the pool. We were delayed by an hour and a half by a van driven by a woman who evidently did not see us and side swiped my car in West Virginia. We were not hurt, the car ran, so we continued. It did get tiresome for Todd to climb in and out of the car over the console since his door no longer opened, but, hey...we were off to see the Pope. He reminded me that his brother and sister had the pleasure of a deer totaling my other car, so now, he finally was in an accident with me. The Road Warrior and I made our way, missing one bus into the City from New Jersey, falling over each other to get the next one and finally met Grandpa, aka, Steve for lunch before THE MAIN EVENT!
UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL
Todd watched Pope Francis enter the Cathedral! He was so thrilled that his legs were pumping to move, but never hit the ground! As he made eye contact, Todd simply stopped breathing in his excitement and overwhelming awe.
Like a native New Yorker, we hoped the subway to return to the Port Authority for the bus back into New Jersey, missed that one, had dinner at one of the restaurants at Port Authority and managed to knock over four people to catch the next bus out!
True to my form, Gail, Jackie, Todd and I missed a bus into New York on the morning of the Central Park Meet and Greet. Luckily, another came quickly. Upon exiting the Port Authority, we lunged at a taxi driver, who was content to compete for the Winston Cup as he careened to the 61st Street entrance of the Park. The people waiting were nice, peaceful. There was an atmosphere of cooperation, consideration, party, joy. Todd befriended a student his age from Ireland where just being twelve and enamored by the Pope (and possibly missing school) was enough of a bond. By the time Pope Francis came through, three of four of us had dead phones...no cameras! That gave me the opportunity to fully engage with the aura of Francis. I observed onlookers. People were crying out: "Papa!" and "Francis!" Women were crying, reaching out. There had been a rather large, solid, inexpressive man waiting. As Francis passed, he wiped a tear from his steely eye. Todd, since we were in key, ideal places, simply stood with his new friend, a few feet from our Pontiff and came away with amazing photos! I was glad that he was breathing this time. Acting as his agent, I took phone numbers from those around us to send them his pictures.
His camera, to date is wonkie. We cannot get the photos! We have to go to Apple to figure out why! Can you believe that? Well, if you are familiar with us, you most certainly can!
Gail, Jackie and I reverently returned to New Jersey while Todd stayed in New York with Grandpa for the night. On our last day, the boys joined me in New Jersey. After Mass at my home parish, Todd and I headed West.
REFLECTING
As we rehashed and talked about our adventure, kidded about the car and camera over dinner, before checking into a hotel, again, mid way home, for the night we spoke as if we had dream walked through the previous few days. Still in awe, still feeling the glow of the spirit.
THAT NIGHT
As we settled in, knowing that home was only a few hours away, Todd said: "You know, Meme, it was really nice of the Pope to come all the way to New York to see us and Aunt Gail. Now it's our turn to visit him at his house next. And, thank you Meme. These were the best days of my life!"
Hmmmm.....next, visit Francis at the Vatican? And, how about this: Until this moment, the best night of Todd's life was Road to Wrestlemania at Madison Square Garden, in February. So, the Pope trumps WWE! And that's how it should be!
Two weeks later, Gail and I were outfitted with tickets to see the Pope at a meet and greet in Central Park. We were provided with official letters to cut through various degrees of red tape. I enlisted a substitute to take my second grade Sunday School Class and fretted about wardrobe.
UNTIL...
My phone sounds like Tinkerbell coming in for a landing. About three days before I was to leave Ohio to journey to New York, my phone twinkled. It was Todd, now twelve years old. "Hey Meme! (may-may) Mommy said you are going to see the Pope! How could you go without me! We go to Catholic School! I feel on fire when we are at Mass! How could you not let me meet the Pope without me?" What could I do? "Todd, don't you have a three day science camping thing with your school on those days? You would miss it!" He pierced through cyber space with: "It's a Catholic school, Meme! Of course I want to see the Pope!" So, I did what every logical, practical grandmother would do: "Todd, don't worry, we're leaving on Wednesday. You will see Pope Francis! Road Trip!"
NEXT...
I phoned Steve. Did I mention that we divorced fifteen years ago? "Steve, Todd is coming with me. I need a letter for him, a ticket for him for whatever. He's counting on us to pull this off!" Response: "There is no way! I just don't think that I can do it!" Refusing to accept that, I said: "Work your magic, pray, do something. Todd must come along and see the Pope! That's that!" Response: "Always a pleasure talking to you, Laura. Just speak up and make yourself clear. I'll see, but I doubt it."
SO...
I campaigned, phoned, texted just so that he wouldn't forget. I prayed and whined. St. Jude has a headache, no doubt. At Mass I silently ranted prayers for Todd to be able to come to New York with me. As I stood in the garage working on a painting project, I prayed and prayed and prayed. Tinkerbell landed and my phone twinkled like a starry night. It was Steve! "Bring Todd along. He's in! He can come to the Pope's arrival at the Cathedral." I did the happy, thank you dance as I phoned Todd and told him to start packing. The next morning, the situation got better...official letter and ticket to go to the Central Park Meet and Greet! And then, miracles just kept falling into my lap! We attained yet another ticket. Gail's sister in law said that the night before, she just knew that she would see the Pope...she did!
ON THE ROAD
We left full of joy and expectations! Todd took charge of the radio, we sang, laughed, planned our dinner, knew we would make it to the hotel half way in time for a swim in the pool. We were delayed by an hour and a half by a van driven by a woman who evidently did not see us and side swiped my car in West Virginia. We were not hurt, the car ran, so we continued. It did get tiresome for Todd to climb in and out of the car over the console since his door no longer opened, but, hey...we were off to see the Pope. He reminded me that his brother and sister had the pleasure of a deer totaling my other car, so now, he finally was in an accident with me. The Road Warrior and I made our way, missing one bus into the City from New Jersey, falling over each other to get the next one and finally met Grandpa, aka, Steve for lunch before THE MAIN EVENT!
UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL
Todd watched Pope Francis enter the Cathedral! He was so thrilled that his legs were pumping to move, but never hit the ground! As he made eye contact, Todd simply stopped breathing in his excitement and overwhelming awe.
Like a native New Yorker, we hoped the subway to return to the Port Authority for the bus back into New Jersey, missed that one, had dinner at one of the restaurants at Port Authority and managed to knock over four people to catch the next bus out!
True to my form, Gail, Jackie, Todd and I missed a bus into New York on the morning of the Central Park Meet and Greet. Luckily, another came quickly. Upon exiting the Port Authority, we lunged at a taxi driver, who was content to compete for the Winston Cup as he careened to the 61st Street entrance of the Park. The people waiting were nice, peaceful. There was an atmosphere of cooperation, consideration, party, joy. Todd befriended a student his age from Ireland where just being twelve and enamored by the Pope (and possibly missing school) was enough of a bond. By the time Pope Francis came through, three of four of us had dead phones...no cameras! That gave me the opportunity to fully engage with the aura of Francis. I observed onlookers. People were crying out: "Papa!" and "Francis!" Women were crying, reaching out. There had been a rather large, solid, inexpressive man waiting. As Francis passed, he wiped a tear from his steely eye. Todd, since we were in key, ideal places, simply stood with his new friend, a few feet from our Pontiff and came away with amazing photos! I was glad that he was breathing this time. Acting as his agent, I took phone numbers from those around us to send them his pictures.
His camera, to date is wonkie. We cannot get the photos! We have to go to Apple to figure out why! Can you believe that? Well, if you are familiar with us, you most certainly can!
Gail, Jackie and I reverently returned to New Jersey while Todd stayed in New York with Grandpa for the night. On our last day, the boys joined me in New Jersey. After Mass at my home parish, Todd and I headed West.
REFLECTING
As we rehashed and talked about our adventure, kidded about the car and camera over dinner, before checking into a hotel, again, mid way home, for the night we spoke as if we had dream walked through the previous few days. Still in awe, still feeling the glow of the spirit.
THAT NIGHT
As we settled in, knowing that home was only a few hours away, Todd said: "You know, Meme, it was really nice of the Pope to come all the way to New York to see us and Aunt Gail. Now it's our turn to visit him at his house next. And, thank you Meme. These were the best days of my life!"
Hmmmm.....next, visit Francis at the Vatican? And, how about this: Until this moment, the best night of Todd's life was Road to Wrestlemania at Madison Square Garden, in February. So, the Pope trumps WWE! And that's how it should be!
Monday, August 31, 2015
MR TOUCHDOWN (Or Not So Much)
Eleven turning twelve year old Todd signed up to play football this year! Day after day, after practice, he would call and discuss the players, the plays, explain the rules, strategies and on and on and on. His Mom, my daughter sent me his schedule. I sent her designs for his locker for each week! I embarked on a noisemaker project to mix it up each week during the season. On a Friday afternoon, he called: "Meme! (may may) Tonight is a scrimmage and Sunday is our first game! You're coming right? We're going to have my birthday dinner after the game and you'll see exactly what I've been telling you about! Make sure you bring your glasses so you don't miss anything! Okay? You are coming early to help decorate my locker, aren't you? I'll call you back after the scrimmage and let you know how we made out and see you Sunday! I love you!" I finally squished a few words in: "Good luck in the scrimmage! I can't wait to see you on Sunday and I have an outfit ready in the Bishop Fenwick colors to wear! Love you too!"
That evening, I attended a testimonial dinner for a Past Commander of our VFW. The dinner was over, dancing began. My phone rang.
"Hi Mom!" My daughter. "Guess what we're doing? I'll tell you, but, promise to not over react." This already had my reaction in overdrive. As calmly as I could muster tranquility, I responded: "Ah, Tiff, you have me. Could you give me a tiny hint and maybe I can run with it?" A sigh: "We're at the Emergency Room of the Hospital. Todd is getting X-Rays as I speak. He hurt his knee. He was knocked down, someone landed on him and here we are." As I began a wind up, she reminded me that I couldn't over react, that he was in pain, that he is upset about an injury and the last thing he needed was a hysterical grandmother. "Here he comes now. They're wheeling him out in a wheel chair. Here, Mom, talk to him while I talk to the doctor."
"Hey Meme! What's up?" So far, so good. "Todd, are you really at the hospital? What happened?" Todd proceeded to seriously, unhappily tell me about the entire knee incident. "And Meme! The first real game is Sunday! I can't even walk!" So the semi-trying to be tough tears, just about flooded cyber space.
"Todd, you do know that football isn't necessarily kind to our family, don't you?" He hesitated and asked: "What? Why not?" I began to tell a true story that I hadn't thought about in a very, very long time.
"Todd, it was my very first year as a baton twirler in high school. I was already the runt - two years younger than everyone in my class and small in comparison. Our uniforms were short, short mini, mini skirts with "tights"...briefs underneath. The majorettes, flag twirlers, band had just finished an opening show for our first football game of the season and headed for the bleachers. Old, worn, wooden bleachers. Grandpa was there to watch. For some reason, I can't remember Nana there. (My parents). Anyway. I was excited and scooted along the bleacher to make room for more band members. I slid along the old wooden bench. OUCH!!! I wound up with a five inch piece of wood in my tush! My tush began bleeding, it swelled up so that my uniform not only got dirty, bloody, but puffed way out as if it was covering a shelf...ME! I was so embarrassed and oh, I was in such pain! As I swelled and bled, some friends ran and told Grandpa that I got hurt! We wound up in an emergency room, the splinter was removed surgically and I had stitches! I couldn't sit for weeks, I was all weird when I stood, walked, marched...ugh! I sat out when we really had to move it and flip our batons. I was so upset because I was healing for most of the season!"
Todd began giggling when I began the set up. By the time he heard the entire story, he was laughing out loud! Tiff and the Doctor asked what was going on. He said: "Mom! This is so funny! Meme got a huge splinter in her tush, surgery, stitches and everything for her first football game! Can you believe it? We both are Football catastrophes!"
If laughter is the best medicine, I guess I'm a healer of sorts. (Although, the knee is dislocated.) "Todd, just think, next year at this time, you'll look back and laugh. When you have a grandson, you will have a good story if he should be sitting in an emergency room." Todd thoughtfully said: "Yeah Meme. I can tell him about when I was what you call me, Mr. Touchdown...or not so much!"
Sunday, July 5, 2015
A LITTLE LUNCH? A LITTLE SHOPPING?
As a little girl, I loved shopping with my Grandmother. Nana would dress me up in a cute dress and we would walk down our hill, take a city bus, and disembark on Main Street! On the bus, we would strategize about what we needed, where we would look, and where we would have lunch? Quackenbush's Tea Room, or Meyer Brothers Cafe? Walking, talking, about everything and nothing, I held her hand half walking, half skipping down the street Passing shop windows, we would discuss merchandise, browse. The fabric store was intriguing. Trying on shoes was fun. Trying on outfits would have us dissolve in puddles of giggles when I decided to put on a "show".
Over lunch, where I always ordered ice cream to match my dress, we would seriously consider what we had seen, what we would go back and purchase, what time the bus would come to take us back home.
Lunch and shopping was one of the more intimate times that we would spend together, second only to going to Mass on Sunday or Novena on Thursday.
I graduated from college and used money that my Grandfather Scillieri (Ralph the Barber) gave me as a down payment on my first car. A 1971 Ford Pinto. White, with black vinyl roof! As soon as I pulled off of the car lot, I raced to pick up Nana! We were going to the Mall, for lunch and a little shopping. She told me that as soon as she saw the little car, she knew it was soo me! We bought some new outfits after having lunch at Bamberger's that day! Oh the stories we exchanged!
Time passed...
Tess, 10 years old, lives in a town, which is two hours driving time from me. Tess phoned, late one morning. "Meme! (may may) There is a pair of black shoes, with a little heel, sort of, with ties, that come to the ankle, but not a boot. Mommy, I don't think will buy them. But... I thought that maybe you...." Hmmm. "Tess, what do they look like?" Tess was on her lap top computer. Tess told me to "log on". Sitting on our beds, Indian style, Tess in Zanesville, I in Kettering, went shopping together. We looked for her shoes that she thought she saw. I suggested assorted web sites, she did as well. We clicked, scrolled together talking about everything and nothing as we fingers to keys danced down cyber street! After about an hour: "Meme, are you getting hungry?" Ladies and gentlemen, I am always hungry. "Actually, I am Tess." We decided to leave our computers on our beds, run down to the kitchen and bring lunch back up to have lunch together and figure out the whole shoe project. "Meme. What should we have for lunch? Maybe a sandwich and chips?" I agreed that would be easiest and best. With our phones on speaker, we rummaged in our kitchens. I heard my daughter in the background: "Tess, what are you doing?" Tess quickly responded: "Meme and I are shopping together. We are taking a break for lunch together and then we'll finish." Tiffany, my daughter: "Tess, you and Meme are so nutty. Whatever. Let me know if you need help" With that, Tess told me she shook her head and left the kitchen. We made ourselves turkey, swiss, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. Hers was on wheat, mine on Italian bread. She had flavored chips of some sort, I stuck with basic original. We both had iced tea. We hot footed it back upstairs to our rooms. As we nibbled our lunch, we did some more browsing.
Finally, we arrived at a decision. Tess has mastered "on line shopping" with my account information. Shoes ordered and paid for, confirmed! I was sent the confirmation and forwarded it to her so that we both had a complete "file" on the goods. We moved on to Tsum-tsums, matching best friend necklaces and a book.
I told her about shopping and lunch with my Grandmother before we disconnected. Tess: "Well, Meme. We did the same thing and didn't have to worry about missing the bus or carrying home a bunch of packages and bags! We had fun...just us girls...a little lunch and a little shopping!"
Over lunch, where I always ordered ice cream to match my dress, we would seriously consider what we had seen, what we would go back and purchase, what time the bus would come to take us back home.
Lunch and shopping was one of the more intimate times that we would spend together, second only to going to Mass on Sunday or Novena on Thursday.
I graduated from college and used money that my Grandfather Scillieri (Ralph the Barber) gave me as a down payment on my first car. A 1971 Ford Pinto. White, with black vinyl roof! As soon as I pulled off of the car lot, I raced to pick up Nana! We were going to the Mall, for lunch and a little shopping. She told me that as soon as she saw the little car, she knew it was soo me! We bought some new outfits after having lunch at Bamberger's that day! Oh the stories we exchanged!
Time passed...
Tess, 10 years old, lives in a town, which is two hours driving time from me. Tess phoned, late one morning. "Meme! (may may) There is a pair of black shoes, with a little heel, sort of, with ties, that come to the ankle, but not a boot. Mommy, I don't think will buy them. But... I thought that maybe you...." Hmmm. "Tess, what do they look like?" Tess was on her lap top computer. Tess told me to "log on". Sitting on our beds, Indian style, Tess in Zanesville, I in Kettering, went shopping together. We looked for her shoes that she thought she saw. I suggested assorted web sites, she did as well. We clicked, scrolled together talking about everything and nothing as we fingers to keys danced down cyber street! After about an hour: "Meme, are you getting hungry?" Ladies and gentlemen, I am always hungry. "Actually, I am Tess." We decided to leave our computers on our beds, run down to the kitchen and bring lunch back up to have lunch together and figure out the whole shoe project. "Meme. What should we have for lunch? Maybe a sandwich and chips?" I agreed that would be easiest and best. With our phones on speaker, we rummaged in our kitchens. I heard my daughter in the background: "Tess, what are you doing?" Tess quickly responded: "Meme and I are shopping together. We are taking a break for lunch together and then we'll finish." Tiffany, my daughter: "Tess, you and Meme are so nutty. Whatever. Let me know if you need help" With that, Tess told me she shook her head and left the kitchen. We made ourselves turkey, swiss, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. Hers was on wheat, mine on Italian bread. She had flavored chips of some sort, I stuck with basic original. We both had iced tea. We hot footed it back upstairs to our rooms. As we nibbled our lunch, we did some more browsing.
Finally, we arrived at a decision. Tess has mastered "on line shopping" with my account information. Shoes ordered and paid for, confirmed! I was sent the confirmation and forwarded it to her so that we both had a complete "file" on the goods. We moved on to Tsum-tsums, matching best friend necklaces and a book.
I told her about shopping and lunch with my Grandmother before we disconnected. Tess: "Well, Meme. We did the same thing and didn't have to worry about missing the bus or carrying home a bunch of packages and bags! We had fun...just us girls...a little lunch and a little shopping!"
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
HEY MEME! HELP!
As our grandchildren get older, grandparents might be under the misconception that they won't be "needed" as they once were. Well, that's true on a certain level...diapers, naps are outgrown. Eventually, baby-sitting, as such, is required less. As our grandchildren grow, age, mature, become more, shall we say worldly, more active, our purpose shifts. You might be familiar with my Blog: THERE'S NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN where I recount my Grandmother - Nana, a Volkswagen, a house and relate it all to Todd and his glasses. This time Tess worked my creativity.
Tess dances. Tess is ten years old and is in some advanced Ballet classes and Hip Hop. One day, I received a frantic call from Tess, while she was supposed to be dressing for Ballet Class: "Hey Meme! (may may) help! This is an emergency! I can't find my shoe!" Unknowingly, I responded: "Well Tess, I can't see it from here, wear a different pair." Hysterically: "Meme! You don't understand! Mommy will flip, she'll be so mad, she'll be way more than upset if I can't find my other ballet shoe! You know the new ones that you bought with the split sole? Those! I can't dance and rehearse for the show without them, but..." Now the tears flooded the phone lines between Zanesville and Kettering, Ohio. Oh dear...I closed my eyes and recalled my Grandfather Scillieri (Dad's Dad) ... aka Ralph the Barber. Usually my Nana bailed me out of everything and anything...but, one time, I needed a Sicilian Cad, widower for about twenty years at the time, swinging single.
Wander back with me:
Before I could obtain my certification to teach Art and Theatre from Grades K-12, in the State of New Jersey, I had to participate in "Practice Teaching". For one half of a semester, I worked with Mary Knap in Pompton Lakes High School...had High School knocked! For the second half - the Pompton Lakes Junior High School. Judy someone was my cooperating teacher. She was nice, helpful, a pleasure. But, the Principal was another story. No sooner did I sign in at the office on my first day in the school, did she look at my name and said: "Hmmm...Scillieri, huh?" Eagerly and two years too young to be there anyway (another story), I responded: "Yes, Mrs. Uscinowitz!" A scowl filled the narrow, pinched face: "Hmmm...do you know Ralph, the Barber, Scillieri?" This is where the entire day headed straight to H---. "Oh yes!" That's my Grandfather!" The scowl turned into a conniption, as Bill Cosby used to describe, where her head split, her eyes glowed red and fire came from her nose and mouth:"You will never be a teacher in New Jersey, ever Missy! He stood up my Aunt Louise last Saturday night and she's heartbroken!" I went from her office to the Art Room, introduced myself and hustled home...now what? I phoned Grandpa: "Hey Grandpa! Help!" I proceeded to tell him the Aunt Louise story adding: "Grandpa, when we hang up, call Aunt Louise, ask her out, take her out every weekend until I finish practice teaching! Got that?" Grandpa: "Oh Laura! I love you, but we went out a few times and she wouldn't even invite me in for a cup of coffee!" On the verge of hysteria: "Grandpa! Just eight weeks! We won't tell anybody what we're doing, but, please, just eight weeks!" A slight groan, a few choice Sicilian utterances: "Oh, okay, okay." The next morning, the principal was waiting for me with coffee, donuts and a warm: "Oh Laura, you'll do wonderfully here!"
And so:
Next door to the dance Studio, is Flair - a dance supply store. Owned by the Dance Instructor's Mom. I phoned Kelly. "Hi, this is Laura Macy, Tess' Grandmother." After some chit-chat and on and on, I unfolded the plan. "Tess will be in after her Mom drops her off at the studio. She will run into your shop. She is missing one shoe of the new pair that we just bought. Could you please have a pair in her size ready for her to go? My card number is:----------------. Please keep this between us, don't mention it to her Mom...Tiff? She laughed and we pinkie swore that the phone conversation never happened.
After a rehearsal, Tess went home, thinking her shoes were in the box, in her bag. And so, tears and panic with assorted screams of horror: "Meme! My new shoes are gone! Maybe they fell out? Do you think that someone stole them? I can't dance without the shoes! What are we going to do?"
Back up a tiny bit:
Practice teaching was a smashing success. Aunt Louise was in love. The principal gave me glowing reviews, had lunch with me frequently, loved my family, assured me that I would be the best teacher in the State. My father grew suspicious. "You didn't tell anyone that you know my father, did you? Ya know, Laur, Ralph the Barber is a gigolo at best. Did you say that he's dating your principal's aunt? Never admit that you know the joker!" Gee, nothing like hind sight, I thought. When practice teaching ended, grades in, Grandpa called: "I gave it my best, I'm done! Eight weeks, eight weeks and she still didn't invite me in for even one crappy cup of coffee! I'm done!" Thinking quickly, I said: "Grandpa, I can't let Mrs. Uscinowitz or Aunt Louise think that we did this, just so that I could pass. Dad will go nuts! See this through Graduation night. Bring her to the ceremony. You just can't drop her!" Oh boy, the Litany of Sicilian Saints in more than colorful Sicilian! "Laura! She'll think that going to your graduation is a d--- marriage proposal!" Getting edgy, I responded: "Grandpa!" With great sighing: "Oh, okay." Between you and me, for a few years later, he occasionally took out Aunt Louise when Clara wasn't available, but she never invited him in. Dad still wonders about the whole thing, but only Grandpa and I know for sure.
Now:
I called Kelly, yet again: "Hi Kelly, this is..." Immediately: "Hi Laura! What can I do for you?" I told her about the new lost shoes, the need for shoes again and asked if she needed my card number again. "Oh, of course not! I have it! I'll pull another pair of shoes for Tess and label them inside. When you come to town, how about a nice brunch and a long, long visit? We are becoming soul mates. No pun intended! And of course, it's our secret." Tiff still wonders why Kelly and I are such pals, but only Kelly, Tess and I know for sure.
As our Grandchildren age, you might learn to dread, yet learn to embrace: HEY MEME! (or Opa, Gran, Nana, Grandpa, Papa, Mimi, Oma, Grannie, Poppa) HELP!
Tess dances. Tess is ten years old and is in some advanced Ballet classes and Hip Hop. One day, I received a frantic call from Tess, while she was supposed to be dressing for Ballet Class: "Hey Meme! (may may) help! This is an emergency! I can't find my shoe!" Unknowingly, I responded: "Well Tess, I can't see it from here, wear a different pair." Hysterically: "Meme! You don't understand! Mommy will flip, she'll be so mad, she'll be way more than upset if I can't find my other ballet shoe! You know the new ones that you bought with the split sole? Those! I can't dance and rehearse for the show without them, but..." Now the tears flooded the phone lines between Zanesville and Kettering, Ohio. Oh dear...I closed my eyes and recalled my Grandfather Scillieri (Dad's Dad) ... aka Ralph the Barber. Usually my Nana bailed me out of everything and anything...but, one time, I needed a Sicilian Cad, widower for about twenty years at the time, swinging single.
Wander back with me:
Before I could obtain my certification to teach Art and Theatre from Grades K-12, in the State of New Jersey, I had to participate in "Practice Teaching". For one half of a semester, I worked with Mary Knap in Pompton Lakes High School...had High School knocked! For the second half - the Pompton Lakes Junior High School. Judy someone was my cooperating teacher. She was nice, helpful, a pleasure. But, the Principal was another story. No sooner did I sign in at the office on my first day in the school, did she look at my name and said: "Hmmm...Scillieri, huh?" Eagerly and two years too young to be there anyway (another story), I responded: "Yes, Mrs. Uscinowitz!" A scowl filled the narrow, pinched face: "Hmmm...do you know Ralph, the Barber, Scillieri?" This is where the entire day headed straight to H---. "Oh yes!" That's my Grandfather!" The scowl turned into a conniption, as Bill Cosby used to describe, where her head split, her eyes glowed red and fire came from her nose and mouth:"You will never be a teacher in New Jersey, ever Missy! He stood up my Aunt Louise last Saturday night and she's heartbroken!" I went from her office to the Art Room, introduced myself and hustled home...now what? I phoned Grandpa: "Hey Grandpa! Help!" I proceeded to tell him the Aunt Louise story adding: "Grandpa, when we hang up, call Aunt Louise, ask her out, take her out every weekend until I finish practice teaching! Got that?" Grandpa: "Oh Laura! I love you, but we went out a few times and she wouldn't even invite me in for a cup of coffee!" On the verge of hysteria: "Grandpa! Just eight weeks! We won't tell anybody what we're doing, but, please, just eight weeks!" A slight groan, a few choice Sicilian utterances: "Oh, okay, okay." The next morning, the principal was waiting for me with coffee, donuts and a warm: "Oh Laura, you'll do wonderfully here!"
And so:
Next door to the dance Studio, is Flair - a dance supply store. Owned by the Dance Instructor's Mom. I phoned Kelly. "Hi, this is Laura Macy, Tess' Grandmother." After some chit-chat and on and on, I unfolded the plan. "Tess will be in after her Mom drops her off at the studio. She will run into your shop. She is missing one shoe of the new pair that we just bought. Could you please have a pair in her size ready for her to go? My card number is:----------------. Please keep this between us, don't mention it to her Mom...Tiff? She laughed and we pinkie swore that the phone conversation never happened.
After a rehearsal, Tess went home, thinking her shoes were in the box, in her bag. And so, tears and panic with assorted screams of horror: "Meme! My new shoes are gone! Maybe they fell out? Do you think that someone stole them? I can't dance without the shoes! What are we going to do?"
Back up a tiny bit:
Practice teaching was a smashing success. Aunt Louise was in love. The principal gave me glowing reviews, had lunch with me frequently, loved my family, assured me that I would be the best teacher in the State. My father grew suspicious. "You didn't tell anyone that you know my father, did you? Ya know, Laur, Ralph the Barber is a gigolo at best. Did you say that he's dating your principal's aunt? Never admit that you know the joker!" Gee, nothing like hind sight, I thought. When practice teaching ended, grades in, Grandpa called: "I gave it my best, I'm done! Eight weeks, eight weeks and she still didn't invite me in for even one crappy cup of coffee! I'm done!" Thinking quickly, I said: "Grandpa, I can't let Mrs. Uscinowitz or Aunt Louise think that we did this, just so that I could pass. Dad will go nuts! See this through Graduation night. Bring her to the ceremony. You just can't drop her!" Oh boy, the Litany of Sicilian Saints in more than colorful Sicilian! "Laura! She'll think that going to your graduation is a d--- marriage proposal!" Getting edgy, I responded: "Grandpa!" With great sighing: "Oh, okay." Between you and me, for a few years later, he occasionally took out Aunt Louise when Clara wasn't available, but she never invited him in. Dad still wonders about the whole thing, but only Grandpa and I know for sure.
Now:
I called Kelly, yet again: "Hi Kelly, this is..." Immediately: "Hi Laura! What can I do for you?" I told her about the new lost shoes, the need for shoes again and asked if she needed my card number again. "Oh, of course not! I have it! I'll pull another pair of shoes for Tess and label them inside. When you come to town, how about a nice brunch and a long, long visit? We are becoming soul mates. No pun intended! And of course, it's our secret." Tiff still wonders why Kelly and I are such pals, but only Kelly, Tess and I know for sure.
As our Grandchildren age, you might learn to dread, yet learn to embrace: HEY MEME! (or Opa, Gran, Nana, Grandpa, Papa, Mimi, Oma, Grannie, Poppa) HELP!
Monday, April 27, 2015
THEY'VE MOVED PARADISE AND PUT IN ZANESVILLE ( I KNOW I'M YOUR FAVORITE )
One day, as I was contemplating curly or straight hair after a shower, my phone rang. Well, it didn't actually ring. My ring tone sounds like Tinkerbell entering the movie set of Peter Pan. It twinkles. Anyway, the Trio (Grandchildren - Todd, 11; Tess, 10; Tanner 7) on speaker, with their Mom (my daughter, aka, The Princess of Zanesville) singing backup: "Meme! (may-may) Guess what? You are going to come over and play, take care of us for a whole week! We're going to dancing lessons, gymnastics, Oriental Buffet, Bob Evans, Roosters- we can get balloon animals there, Picnic Pizza! We need to go to the Mall! Make sure you bring Taylor Ham and Italian Bread! Did you find the book about Andre the Giant for me (Todd)? Did you finish shortening my First Communion Pants? (Tanner) Can you come to a special recycle party at school with me and stay for lunch (Tanner again) We're going to have so much fun!" Apparently the Princess needed a vacation and the Trio was planning an itinerary to be the busiest and eventually the poorest grandmother in Ohio. That being said...
We managed to get to school on time on Monday. I happened to wake up, flip on the news and realize that I'd better get busy. Attending Mass with Tanner was pleasant enough and we managed to get to our lessons without incident. Well, mysteriously, Tess could find only one of her ballet shoes! Hmmm...for two feet. "But, Meme! At Whitney's (dance instructor/studio owner) store next door (enterprising Ballet Teacher, yes?), there are the new ballet shoes that I've been begging Mommy for! They have a split sole..." Ah-ha! Convenient loss, n'est-pas? The Oriental Buffet, that evening dished out "Italian Meatballs" skewered, three on a stick. Chock full of rice! REALLY? Ah, the company was key, not so much the fare.
Thinking that I was a cool, techno-grandparent, I set the alarm on my phone to wake us up on Tuesday morning. Did you know that Zanesville is not in the same time zone as Guatemala? How my phone hitched into Guatemala time is beyond me. We just barely made it in time to Todd and Tess' Middle School, only because the teacher at the door was distracted by my horn and loud music enough to stand, look around, take it all in and not close the door until it was five minutes later! YES! When I signed Tanner into his school late, the secretary said: "Well, that's some story! If it were anyone else, I wouldn't believe a word, but from you, Mrs. Macy, Guatemala figures!" Should I be offended? Before dinner at Bob Evans where on Tuesdays Children Eat Free (except on my $45.00 check, it seems), I bought an alarm clock and four extra batteries.
On Wednesday morning, I couldn't turn off the alarm clock. Tess said: "Meme! Look for the switch to turn it off!" Todd struggled to open two eyes, turned it off with the switch, looked at me and said:"Duh?" Tanner, whose hair looked as if he did it with a lightning bolt, said: "Meme! You've just been 'duhhed'!" Yes, I managed to get to Todd and Tess' Mass and to the "Recycle" party. Yes, I zipped to a "Subway" for Tanner's lunch. The balloon animals just "made" dinner at Rooster's!
Thursday, according to the news, was: "Bring Your Daughter/Child To Work Day". Nice. The children began watching the morning news, as I do, getting ready for school during the week. As I was putting breakfast on the table, I heard giggling as they tumbled down the stairs, in their jammies! "What are you doing? Why don't you have on your uniforms? We're going to be late! Mom will be furious if you are late twice in the week Tanner! Todd, Tess, we aren't going to be lucky another day to escape late slips! Let's move it!" "Meme! We saw on the news, you know, you tell us to watch the news! We saw that it's take your kids to work day! So, we figured we didn't have to get dressed...we'll stay with you at your work! Or, well, what is it that you DO do anyway?" The Mall and Picnic Pizza pushed me right into poverty level, but it was so worth it! Vinnie, the owner of Picnic Pizza, I understand is originally from Sicily, through Queens and fell off of a covered wagon in Zanesville!
What I have not mentioned...the restaurants were fine, except for the rice in meatballs. The week was fun. The Mall, pricey...Todd's LeBron Nikes, Tess' pink, lacy glittery Nikes, Tanner's really cute shoes from Children's Place, Justice outfits, accessories for Tess, X-Box Live connection for Tanner, Tsum-Tsums for Tess (18 of them), Wrestling belts for Todd. Snuggling at night, whispers, secrets, stories about my Nana.
Tanner: "You'll bring me to the Church early to meet my class on Communion Day? The others can meet us in time for the Mass. Shhhh....don't tell the big kids. I know I'm your favorite."
Tess: "Meme, I always love the way you smell (Thanks Organza). You'll be my maid of honor when I get married, right? Don't tell the boys, but I know that I'm your favorite."
Todd: "Hey Meme! When the kids go to sleep, I'll teach you how to do X-Box Smack Down and Chairs and Ladders. You can be Kane or The Rock! We can talk and play like grownups without the kids! I know, Meme, I'm your favorite and always will be!"
We managed to get to school on time on Monday. I happened to wake up, flip on the news and realize that I'd better get busy. Attending Mass with Tanner was pleasant enough and we managed to get to our lessons without incident. Well, mysteriously, Tess could find only one of her ballet shoes! Hmmm...for two feet. "But, Meme! At Whitney's (dance instructor/studio owner) store next door (enterprising Ballet Teacher, yes?), there are the new ballet shoes that I've been begging Mommy for! They have a split sole..." Ah-ha! Convenient loss, n'est-pas? The Oriental Buffet, that evening dished out "Italian Meatballs" skewered, three on a stick. Chock full of rice! REALLY? Ah, the company was key, not so much the fare.
Thinking that I was a cool, techno-grandparent, I set the alarm on my phone to wake us up on Tuesday morning. Did you know that Zanesville is not in the same time zone as Guatemala? How my phone hitched into Guatemala time is beyond me. We just barely made it in time to Todd and Tess' Middle School, only because the teacher at the door was distracted by my horn and loud music enough to stand, look around, take it all in and not close the door until it was five minutes later! YES! When I signed Tanner into his school late, the secretary said: "Well, that's some story! If it were anyone else, I wouldn't believe a word, but from you, Mrs. Macy, Guatemala figures!" Should I be offended? Before dinner at Bob Evans where on Tuesdays Children Eat Free (except on my $45.00 check, it seems), I bought an alarm clock and four extra batteries.
On Wednesday morning, I couldn't turn off the alarm clock. Tess said: "Meme! Look for the switch to turn it off!" Todd struggled to open two eyes, turned it off with the switch, looked at me and said:"Duh?" Tanner, whose hair looked as if he did it with a lightning bolt, said: "Meme! You've just been 'duhhed'!" Yes, I managed to get to Todd and Tess' Mass and to the "Recycle" party. Yes, I zipped to a "Subway" for Tanner's lunch. The balloon animals just "made" dinner at Rooster's!
Thursday, according to the news, was: "Bring Your Daughter/Child To Work Day". Nice. The children began watching the morning news, as I do, getting ready for school during the week. As I was putting breakfast on the table, I heard giggling as they tumbled down the stairs, in their jammies! "What are you doing? Why don't you have on your uniforms? We're going to be late! Mom will be furious if you are late twice in the week Tanner! Todd, Tess, we aren't going to be lucky another day to escape late slips! Let's move it!" "Meme! We saw on the news, you know, you tell us to watch the news! We saw that it's take your kids to work day! So, we figured we didn't have to get dressed...we'll stay with you at your work! Or, well, what is it that you DO do anyway?" The Mall and Picnic Pizza pushed me right into poverty level, but it was so worth it! Vinnie, the owner of Picnic Pizza, I understand is originally from Sicily, through Queens and fell off of a covered wagon in Zanesville!
What I have not mentioned...the restaurants were fine, except for the rice in meatballs. The week was fun. The Mall, pricey...Todd's LeBron Nikes, Tess' pink, lacy glittery Nikes, Tanner's really cute shoes from Children's Place, Justice outfits, accessories for Tess, X-Box Live connection for Tanner, Tsum-Tsums for Tess (18 of them), Wrestling belts for Todd. Snuggling at night, whispers, secrets, stories about my Nana.
Tanner: "You'll bring me to the Church early to meet my class on Communion Day? The others can meet us in time for the Mass. Shhhh....don't tell the big kids. I know I'm your favorite."
Tess: "Meme, I always love the way you smell (Thanks Organza). You'll be my maid of honor when I get married, right? Don't tell the boys, but I know that I'm your favorite."
Todd: "Hey Meme! When the kids go to sleep, I'll teach you how to do X-Box Smack Down and Chairs and Ladders. You can be Kane or The Rock! We can talk and play like grownups without the kids! I know, Meme, I'm your favorite and always will be!"
Friday, March 20, 2015
ROAD (FROM OHIO, THROUGH PENNSYLVANIA, THROUGH NEW JERSEY INTO NYC) TO WRESTLEMANIA
About a month ago, I opened and invitation to a wedding in Jersey City, New Jersey. For the past twelve years, I have been living in Ohio. (Long story about a daughter and three grandchildren. We'll have a glass of wine and I will tell you all about it another time) A family friend, whom my family has known for about thirty years was to get married on Friday evening, February 27. After considering that I would be seated with the Princess and Punk along with my X and his insignificant other, I had the sinking feeling that, depending on M'lady's mood, I just might be facing a firing squad. (Also another story to share over a case of wine)
AND THEN -
The Princess phoned and said that we'd have to consider child care for the Trio, her children, my grandchildren (Todd,11; Tess,10; Tanner, 7), not invited to the wedding, assuming that I would accept the invitation. We considered family members in New Jersey until I seized the moment and said: "Tiff! I'm not going to the wedding. I have a fabulous gift that I will send, but I won't be going. I'll baby sit!" With relief, I swear I could hear her smiling on the other end of the phone connection. YES! We would paint the town in Kettering, Ohio!
AND THEN -
About a week later, I was sent a notification that WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) would be appearing in Columbus, Ohio on March 5. Todd and I are veteran WWE patrons (Check out my blog: WWE, TODD AND ME) I phoned Tiff, unable to reach her, I left a message on the landline asking if I could take Todd to WWE on March 5. But, the Trio, in three part harmony returned the call, hours later and told me that they would be thrilled to ALL go to "Smack Down" or whatever. I jumped on that, but for four tickets: SOLD OUT! Now what?
AND THEN -
I received a notification that WWE ROAD TO WRESTLEMANIA was happening at Madison Square Garden in New York City on...wait for it...wait for it...February 27! Readers, I can baby sit ANYWHERE as long as I have Triple T, my three charges with me! So, I phoned the Princess of Zanesville: "Hey Tiff! While you are at the wedding, the Trio and I will be at Madison Square Garden watching ROAD TO WRESTLEMANIA. Thankfully, she does not have Power of Attorney over me, or she just might have had me committed to the basket weaving institution for the marginally insane. I did not wait for a reply, disconnected and ordered four ringside seats at Wrestlemania. I learned that Hulk Hogan was to be honored at that time as well! Well, you just can't beat that! My parents, aka: The Honeymooners, the Trio's great-grandparents live exactly nineteen miles from the Lincoln Tunnel on the New Jersey side. I phoned them and announced that I was bringing the children to visit them for the day - February 27th and from there we would go to the show. We would spend the night and on Saturday, head back. I was trying to pray and strategize between snow storms. The Honeymooners were not impressed. Even though they wanted to see the children, they thought that I was out of my mind to "baby sit" from Ohio, across Pennsylvania, through New Jersey and then New York. There was the idea that I could baby sit anywhere, but really...EVERYWHERE?
WELL -
They began the "shrink cycle" whereby I am demoted from 60 to 4 1/2 years old. "What's that going to cost you? How can you consider driving in the winter with three children? What if it snows? What if one of you has to use a restroom? NEW YORK CITY- What 's wrong with you? When exactly do you think that you'll grow up to be a responsible adult? Well, you'll have to stay here, and that's that! Jeremy and Tori will have to take off for the day!" (Jeremy, my nephew, 22 year old graduate student, living in their house because it is close to the University and Tori, my niece, 17 years old more that thrilled to be truant for any reason, or none at all). They continued: "Todd loves playing with Jeremy and Tori will make over Tess. Poor Tanner getting dragged across the country! What is wrong with you traveling all over when it may, to repeat, snow? You have no sense! You are going to drive into the City? Are you nuts? How do you think you can keep track of three children in the City and at the Garden?" And on and on and on and on for two weeks, twice a day, they took to the airwaves and sang "the same old song" and Motown had nothing to do with it!
SO -
On Thursday, the 26th, I picked up Todd, Tess, Tanner at school after picking up their suitcases, blankets, electronics. We sang and giggled as far as Bethel, Pennsylvania. When we pulled into a snappy hotel parking lot (reservations based on indoor pool, hot and cold running snacks and hot breakfast), with total frustration, Todd jumped into the front seat, ordered me to start the car again, fiddled with the screen on my dashboard and managed to get the sound working on the navigation system and told me to stop trying to shut her up, because the volume mutes every time, "You yell at her Meme!" (may-may). After dinner at the "Midway" (I highly recommend it), we (Todd and I) relaxed poolside, swam like fish, pumped up some music volume (ask Todd) and practiced a little hip-hop dancing (Tess and Tanner). We were happy 1. to be out of the car and 2. have something to do...okay, okay, maybe silly to normal adults, but no normal adult accompanied us. Throughout the night, with the Disney Channel on the television, Tess and I shopped on the "Justice" website, Todd made a simulcast video on the computer, Tanner nibbled, nudged and managed to maintain his primary hobby of getting under foot and on nerves. At breakfast Todd took upon himself to make us all waffles (shhhhh..I don't like waffles, but don't tell him), Tanner scooped fruit and Tess brought me coffee (and conned her way into a cup for herself). We hit the road again and exploded into my parents' house as if we were shot out of a cannon. Jeremy and Todd talked Wrestlemania and stars from Jeremy's childhood in WWF, Tori turned Tess from a 10 year old, into a 18 year old, Tanner helped Tess wash her face. At 88 and 86 years old, I would say that the Honeymooners took it rather well.
AND THEN -
The trio clambered into the car...off to Madison Square Garden. I had driven in and out, around New York for 1,000,000 years, so we managed to get there without incident and park right in MSG's parking lot a few feet from the main entrance. (Yes, I made a reservation in advance)
Our seats were phenomenal! Tanner slipped in first, then Tess, next Todd and I was on the aisle. I could see the whites of the performers' eyes without my glasses and I am seriously near-sighted. The choreography, effects, personalities, energy in the Garden enveloped us and we were swept into the fun frenzy of the evening! I noticed how times have changed I can remember bringing my children into Madison Square Garden for events and purchasing battery operated "Circus Lights" to twirl light with the crowd. At one point, the announcer said, "Light the light for...." (whomever). Todd screeched and grabbed my cell phone: "Meme! Quick! Give me your phone!" He slid and pushed on the screen along with the crowd, he waved a light/flashlight! I looked across the Garden and saw a sea of twinkling cell phone lights!
Hulk Hogan, the ultimate showman, embraced the entire crowd. He was gracious, endearing (always was). The tribute to him left no dry eye. As he exited the ring and passed us, Todd yelled out: "HULKSTER" standing on his seat, striking the typical pose that Hogan usually does. Hulk Hogan stopped, turned, connected with Todd and gave him the pose/point right back! I honestly thought that Todd would stop breathing! He began screaming: "Meme! He knows me! Hulk Hogan knows me!"
Awesome man that Mr. Hogan, in my opinion.
We lingered in the parking garage. But, remember this was "VIP", reservation area Well, I hung back because I saw some impressive SUV's parked near the cashier's booth. Equipment trucks were at the "stage door" and it was securely blocked from the public. I observed that passenger vehicles were not there. The boys were perched on a barricade, so to speak. Of course, we were told that they should get down. (Maybe next month) Suddenly, some of the performers, their handlers, and you guessed it,.. the Hulkster walked past us to get into those vehicles. Tanner reached out and touched Roman Raines (I believe) who smiled and said: "Hey there pal". Hulk Hogan winked at Todd and said, "Hey Bud, be careful there!" Tess quickly said: "Wait until I tell Lila (frenemy) at school), that Todd and Hulk Hogan are friends and that we spent time in New York with him." Not untrue totally, and Lila is a snit. Todd at that point practically did go into cardiac arrest, he was so overwhelmed!
LATER -
As we sat in the Tick Tock Diner, back in Jersey afterwards for a snack, the Triple T rehashed the evening, embellishing where they could, my mind was spinning: trip through Ohio, Pennsylvania, Jersey, to New York - $450. VIP, Reservation parking: $65 plus tip. Tickets for a memorable show- $592. Sitting in the diner (where I sat late night after dates for years and years before) and seeing Todd's face still lit up and those blue, blue eyes sparkling and dancing as he said: "Meme! Thank you! Thank you! I'll never forget this night! You are the best grandmother ever!. This was the best trip and best night of my life! Right?" (Deferring to Tess and Tanner, who agreed wholeheartedly) ...PRICELESS! I was so happy that I decided that with Todd, Tess and Tanner to hit the ROAD (THROUGH OHIO, PENNSYLVANIA, NEW JERSEY, INTO NEW YORK) TO WRESTLEMANIA!
AND THEN -
The Princess phoned and said that we'd have to consider child care for the Trio, her children, my grandchildren (Todd,11; Tess,10; Tanner, 7), not invited to the wedding, assuming that I would accept the invitation. We considered family members in New Jersey until I seized the moment and said: "Tiff! I'm not going to the wedding. I have a fabulous gift that I will send, but I won't be going. I'll baby sit!" With relief, I swear I could hear her smiling on the other end of the phone connection. YES! We would paint the town in Kettering, Ohio!
AND THEN -
About a week later, I was sent a notification that WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) would be appearing in Columbus, Ohio on March 5. Todd and I are veteran WWE patrons (Check out my blog: WWE, TODD AND ME) I phoned Tiff, unable to reach her, I left a message on the landline asking if I could take Todd to WWE on March 5. But, the Trio, in three part harmony returned the call, hours later and told me that they would be thrilled to ALL go to "Smack Down" or whatever. I jumped on that, but for four tickets: SOLD OUT! Now what?
AND THEN -
I received a notification that WWE ROAD TO WRESTLEMANIA was happening at Madison Square Garden in New York City on...wait for it...wait for it...February 27! Readers, I can baby sit ANYWHERE as long as I have Triple T, my three charges with me! So, I phoned the Princess of Zanesville: "Hey Tiff! While you are at the wedding, the Trio and I will be at Madison Square Garden watching ROAD TO WRESTLEMANIA. Thankfully, she does not have Power of Attorney over me, or she just might have had me committed to the basket weaving institution for the marginally insane. I did not wait for a reply, disconnected and ordered four ringside seats at Wrestlemania. I learned that Hulk Hogan was to be honored at that time as well! Well, you just can't beat that! My parents, aka: The Honeymooners, the Trio's great-grandparents live exactly nineteen miles from the Lincoln Tunnel on the New Jersey side. I phoned them and announced that I was bringing the children to visit them for the day - February 27th and from there we would go to the show. We would spend the night and on Saturday, head back. I was trying to pray and strategize between snow storms. The Honeymooners were not impressed. Even though they wanted to see the children, they thought that I was out of my mind to "baby sit" from Ohio, across Pennsylvania, through New Jersey and then New York. There was the idea that I could baby sit anywhere, but really...EVERYWHERE?
WELL -
They began the "shrink cycle" whereby I am demoted from 60 to 4 1/2 years old. "What's that going to cost you? How can you consider driving in the winter with three children? What if it snows? What if one of you has to use a restroom? NEW YORK CITY- What 's wrong with you? When exactly do you think that you'll grow up to be a responsible adult? Well, you'll have to stay here, and that's that! Jeremy and Tori will have to take off for the day!" (Jeremy, my nephew, 22 year old graduate student, living in their house because it is close to the University and Tori, my niece, 17 years old more that thrilled to be truant for any reason, or none at all). They continued: "Todd loves playing with Jeremy and Tori will make over Tess. Poor Tanner getting dragged across the country! What is wrong with you traveling all over when it may, to repeat, snow? You have no sense! You are going to drive into the City? Are you nuts? How do you think you can keep track of three children in the City and at the Garden?" And on and on and on and on for two weeks, twice a day, they took to the airwaves and sang "the same old song" and Motown had nothing to do with it!
SO -
On Thursday, the 26th, I picked up Todd, Tess, Tanner at school after picking up their suitcases, blankets, electronics. We sang and giggled as far as Bethel, Pennsylvania. When we pulled into a snappy hotel parking lot (reservations based on indoor pool, hot and cold running snacks and hot breakfast), with total frustration, Todd jumped into the front seat, ordered me to start the car again, fiddled with the screen on my dashboard and managed to get the sound working on the navigation system and told me to stop trying to shut her up, because the volume mutes every time, "You yell at her Meme!" (may-may). After dinner at the "Midway" (I highly recommend it), we (Todd and I) relaxed poolside, swam like fish, pumped up some music volume (ask Todd) and practiced a little hip-hop dancing (Tess and Tanner). We were happy 1. to be out of the car and 2. have something to do...okay, okay, maybe silly to normal adults, but no normal adult accompanied us. Throughout the night, with the Disney Channel on the television, Tess and I shopped on the "Justice" website, Todd made a simulcast video on the computer, Tanner nibbled, nudged and managed to maintain his primary hobby of getting under foot and on nerves. At breakfast Todd took upon himself to make us all waffles (shhhhh..I don't like waffles, but don't tell him), Tanner scooped fruit and Tess brought me coffee (and conned her way into a cup for herself). We hit the road again and exploded into my parents' house as if we were shot out of a cannon. Jeremy and Todd talked Wrestlemania and stars from Jeremy's childhood in WWF, Tori turned Tess from a 10 year old, into a 18 year old, Tanner helped Tess wash her face. At 88 and 86 years old, I would say that the Honeymooners took it rather well.
AND THEN -
The trio clambered into the car...off to Madison Square Garden. I had driven in and out, around New York for 1,000,000 years, so we managed to get there without incident and park right in MSG's parking lot a few feet from the main entrance. (Yes, I made a reservation in advance)
Our seats were phenomenal! Tanner slipped in first, then Tess, next Todd and I was on the aisle. I could see the whites of the performers' eyes without my glasses and I am seriously near-sighted. The choreography, effects, personalities, energy in the Garden enveloped us and we were swept into the fun frenzy of the evening! I noticed how times have changed I can remember bringing my children into Madison Square Garden for events and purchasing battery operated "Circus Lights" to twirl light with the crowd. At one point, the announcer said, "Light the light for...." (whomever). Todd screeched and grabbed my cell phone: "Meme! Quick! Give me your phone!" He slid and pushed on the screen along with the crowd, he waved a light/flashlight! I looked across the Garden and saw a sea of twinkling cell phone lights!
Hulk Hogan, the ultimate showman, embraced the entire crowd. He was gracious, endearing (always was). The tribute to him left no dry eye. As he exited the ring and passed us, Todd yelled out: "HULKSTER" standing on his seat, striking the typical pose that Hogan usually does. Hulk Hogan stopped, turned, connected with Todd and gave him the pose/point right back! I honestly thought that Todd would stop breathing! He began screaming: "Meme! He knows me! Hulk Hogan knows me!"
Awesome man that Mr. Hogan, in my opinion.
We lingered in the parking garage. But, remember this was "VIP", reservation area Well, I hung back because I saw some impressive SUV's parked near the cashier's booth. Equipment trucks were at the "stage door" and it was securely blocked from the public. I observed that passenger vehicles were not there. The boys were perched on a barricade, so to speak. Of course, we were told that they should get down. (Maybe next month) Suddenly, some of the performers, their handlers, and you guessed it,.. the Hulkster walked past us to get into those vehicles. Tanner reached out and touched Roman Raines (I believe) who smiled and said: "Hey there pal". Hulk Hogan winked at Todd and said, "Hey Bud, be careful there!" Tess quickly said: "Wait until I tell Lila (frenemy) at school), that Todd and Hulk Hogan are friends and that we spent time in New York with him." Not untrue totally, and Lila is a snit. Todd at that point practically did go into cardiac arrest, he was so overwhelmed!
LATER -
As we sat in the Tick Tock Diner, back in Jersey afterwards for a snack, the Triple T rehashed the evening, embellishing where they could, my mind was spinning: trip through Ohio, Pennsylvania, Jersey, to New York - $450. VIP, Reservation parking: $65 plus tip. Tickets for a memorable show- $592. Sitting in the diner (where I sat late night after dates for years and years before) and seeing Todd's face still lit up and those blue, blue eyes sparkling and dancing as he said: "Meme! Thank you! Thank you! I'll never forget this night! You are the best grandmother ever!. This was the best trip and best night of my life! Right?" (Deferring to Tess and Tanner, who agreed wholeheartedly) ...PRICELESS! I was so happy that I decided that with Todd, Tess and Tanner to hit the ROAD (THROUGH OHIO, PENNSYLVANIA, NEW JERSEY, INTO NEW YORK) TO WRESTLEMANIA!
Saturday, January 31, 2015
DIZZY DIAL SPINNING
It is no secret that I am not exactly a baby. Chronologically speaking, smartie pants! I have always been able to drive any automobile planted on this fabulous planet of ours! I borrowed Skip's souped up Charger to do my practice teaching roughly 100 years ago. Never having a car of my own until I began teaching, I could handle Dad's Chevelle ('66) and Maverick ('70). My cousins taught me how do drive in a '68 Impala (too big, thanks) and a something of other Covair (yes, perfect size). I could handle my cousin's Gremlin that ran on 3 of 4 cylinders. I can't say that I was particularly skilled, but I could handle Steve's old, old, black Impala. Time passed...
In the Dark Ages, I signed a contract to teach in Wayne, New Jersey! At 11 A.M., Mr. Van Dyken, the principal, welcomed me aboard. At 1 P.M., that day, Dad and I were sitting in "Wayne Ford"...a dealership for my own car! YES!!! Grandpa Scillieri (aka, Ralph the Barber) had money for his grandchildren set aside. There was the deposit! My father lost his marbles because I was so anxious, I really wouldn't let him negotiate a good price. No worries!!! I had my very own, brand new, 0 miles on it, 1971 white with black vinyl roof Ford Pinto!!!!I was on fire!
In '72, Ann Banks ran a stop sign and in spite of major body surgery on my wheels, the passenger seat remained a little crooked. By the time my son was born during the Blizzard of '78, my Pinto was a little saggy. I held wires for the heater together with a cable stitch holder that I procured from my knitting supplies. But, she was still mine, all mine! The day that we sold it (or possibly paid some nice people to take it ), I crumpled up in the driveway and cried. Steve bought a Ford Fairmont station wagon for our new growing family. I could handle it, but I could have lived with or without it... (okay, hitchhiking with two little children would have been a chore). Next was a garbage can grey Audi. Within nine months, it went back to the dealership thirteen times. It was after that, Lemon Laws were invented. We began a string of Mercedes...no complaint. Ron negotiated a Malibu here in Ohio for me. Nick, my son, drives it now. I purchased a brand new Mazda 3 two years ago. Read about its fate in my blog, INTO THE WOODS, OVER THE RAINBOW BRIDGE. I began to think that I really didn't want to drive a motor vehicle again. My "ride" about which Steve often teases really keeps me out of trouble. But, riding a broomstick to St. Albert's is not realistic.
So, a few weeks ago, I gathered my nerve, in spite of the fact that I wanted a friend to do test driving for me at dealerships, and purchased a 2015 Chrysler 200. Here's the glitch... The whole contraption is loaded with buttons and dials. There is even a weird shaped button for the emergency brake. One can "remote" start, but to actually drive, press a button with a foot in a certain position on the brake pedal. On a console, that the Jetsons installed before Dave earned his commission, one will find: a dial for the radio, a dial for climate, a dial for gears, a dial to dial activation of dials! There is a snappy screen in the what would have been known as a dashboard in another century. Now that houses a back-up camera (now I see you Ms. Nosey with your dog), a GPS, touch screen in case you miss a dial for the same features mentioned. On the steering wheel, I can do everything including phone the White House...I know, I know...WHY?
Well, I tried to start the car and was rudely reminded by the gnome living inside of a dial to place my foot on the brake, press the correct control. I turned down the radio by activating air-conditioning (it was seven degrees outside at the time). I adjusted the "climate" by nearly throwing the thing into neutral. The radio blasted and took out 45% of my hearing when I tried to put the thing in "drive." I answered the phone by setting cruise control (which I never, ever would use, even if I aimed for it) and the wipers would up as blue tooth. I adjusted wipers by the mirror control! In other words...when I get into that car, I am a stranger in a strange dimension - just DIZZY DIAL SPINNING!
In the Dark Ages, I signed a contract to teach in Wayne, New Jersey! At 11 A.M., Mr. Van Dyken, the principal, welcomed me aboard. At 1 P.M., that day, Dad and I were sitting in "Wayne Ford"...a dealership for my own car! YES!!! Grandpa Scillieri (aka, Ralph the Barber) had money for his grandchildren set aside. There was the deposit! My father lost his marbles because I was so anxious, I really wouldn't let him negotiate a good price. No worries!!! I had my very own, brand new, 0 miles on it, 1971 white with black vinyl roof Ford Pinto!!!!I was on fire!
In '72, Ann Banks ran a stop sign and in spite of major body surgery on my wheels, the passenger seat remained a little crooked. By the time my son was born during the Blizzard of '78, my Pinto was a little saggy. I held wires for the heater together with a cable stitch holder that I procured from my knitting supplies. But, she was still mine, all mine! The day that we sold it (or possibly paid some nice people to take it ), I crumpled up in the driveway and cried. Steve bought a Ford Fairmont station wagon for our new growing family. I could handle it, but I could have lived with or without it... (okay, hitchhiking with two little children would have been a chore). Next was a garbage can grey Audi. Within nine months, it went back to the dealership thirteen times. It was after that, Lemon Laws were invented. We began a string of Mercedes...no complaint. Ron negotiated a Malibu here in Ohio for me. Nick, my son, drives it now. I purchased a brand new Mazda 3 two years ago. Read about its fate in my blog, INTO THE WOODS, OVER THE RAINBOW BRIDGE. I began to think that I really didn't want to drive a motor vehicle again. My "ride" about which Steve often teases really keeps me out of trouble. But, riding a broomstick to St. Albert's is not realistic.
So, a few weeks ago, I gathered my nerve, in spite of the fact that I wanted a friend to do test driving for me at dealerships, and purchased a 2015 Chrysler 200. Here's the glitch... The whole contraption is loaded with buttons and dials. There is even a weird shaped button for the emergency brake. One can "remote" start, but to actually drive, press a button with a foot in a certain position on the brake pedal. On a console, that the Jetsons installed before Dave earned his commission, one will find: a dial for the radio, a dial for climate, a dial for gears, a dial to dial activation of dials! There is a snappy screen in the what would have been known as a dashboard in another century. Now that houses a back-up camera (now I see you Ms. Nosey with your dog), a GPS, touch screen in case you miss a dial for the same features mentioned. On the steering wheel, I can do everything including phone the White House...I know, I know...WHY?
Well, I tried to start the car and was rudely reminded by the gnome living inside of a dial to place my foot on the brake, press the correct control. I turned down the radio by activating air-conditioning (it was seven degrees outside at the time). I adjusted the "climate" by nearly throwing the thing into neutral. The radio blasted and took out 45% of my hearing when I tried to put the thing in "drive." I answered the phone by setting cruise control (which I never, ever would use, even if I aimed for it) and the wipers would up as blue tooth. I adjusted wipers by the mirror control! In other words...when I get into that car, I am a stranger in a strange dimension - just DIZZY DIAL SPINNING!
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