On a Sunday afternoon of a three day weekend, Todd (twelve year old grandson) phoned me. "Hey Meme! (may may) I don't have school tomorrow. Tess (his eleven year old sister) is going to a sleep over. Tanner (eight year old brother) is going someplace too. How about you pick me up and I'll come over for the night?" I was elated! Just think, when he's in college, a sleepover with his grandmother, no matter how cool that I think I am, won't be so appealing.
I pulled into the driveway and to my surprise, Tanner was the first to hop into the back seat with his backpack, electronics and a huge smile: "I decided I want to go with Todd and you!" Todd came out, loaded his bag into the trunk, informed me that he was going to plug his phone in to charge, while riding shot gun, declared himself the DJ, found "Uptown Funk" on Sirius Z 100 NY, then asked what are our plans for dinner. The boys were thrilled that we were going to have a pizza party at Uncle Nick's (my son, their Mom's older brother, who sports a "No Kids! I Rock As An Uncle!" T-Shirt).
Todd showed Nick videos on his phone, Nick showed Tanner some new magic tricks. We talked Sonic (who knew that he started out as an air freshener), pizza, computers, You-Tube and so it went.
In the morning, over breakfast, Todd decided that we should go bowling. Tanner agreed. Ah-ha. Bowling? There is a bowling alley not far from my home. I had been inside of it during a fundraiser, years ago. Tiff (their Mom), Todd, Tess, Tanner and I went with an organization to raise money for "Hair For Kids". They bowled, I chit chatted, ate, drank, bought raffles as Tiff bowled with Tanner balanced on her hip.
The boys were slightly concerned at the admission desk, when I turned to Todd and asked: "Do you know how to keep score?" Todd: "Earth, swallow me up now! Meme! It's 2016! It's all computers and electronics now! Maybe you had to keep score with pencils or something in the old days, but, really Meme? Don't you know anything about bowling? Didn't you ever bowl? The gentleman behind the desk stifled a chuckle and assigned us to an alley, right in front of his station.
While putting on rented shoes, I cleared my murky bowling past by explaining:
"The last time that I picked up a bowling ball and actually tried to send it down an alley to hit pins was when I was a Junior in High School. My friend, Eileen had a crush on a Senior, Mark. Mark's best friend was Bob. Mark and Bob went bowling after school on Tuesdays with the school's Bowling Club. Eileen said: 'Laura, let's bowl on Tuesdays after school. Bob thinks you're cute and he's Mark's best friend.' Well, this fashionista bought a pair of light beige bowling shoes, coordinated outfits and became well acquainted with Bob. I was relieved when the guys graduated. There was no way that my all time high score of 27 would improve. Yes, by the way, I saw Bob for years afterwards, but thankfully, bowling never came up. I dated another guy who bowled regularly, but, I just watched and socialized with friends while he did." Todd and Tanner laughed and said that they could just picture me worrying about my hair, make up, outfits and forgetting that I was supposed to be bowling.
Then, the harsh reality that we would be bowling in Todd, Tanner, Meme order set in. The boys gave me tips, coached, tried finding the right ball for me (I wound up mooching theirs), drank a river of Sprite, cheered, booed, "No Meme! This Way!" Guess what? We bowled three games and I scored 99, 100 and 87! Todd was the champion - strikes and happy dances. Tanner pulled in a respectable second, no dancing but plenty of wise cracks. Me? I think that Mr. Universe would be impressed with such strength that I displayed to continuously pick up that ball and roll it down the alley...I only slid along with it once! I did some fancy footwork dancing the "Hey! Did you see that? I hit those and the pins fell down!" Todd's response: "See, Meme, you can bowl! Now, try not to go down the alley with the ball and don't get tired dancing..you have more pins to knock down!" But, as it is said: No pain, no gain. I did score, but, I broke a nail! Oh nuts.
As we returned our bowling shoes and thanked the attendant, his pleasant face crinkled in a smile and said: "I'm glad that you enjoyed yourself. Boys, your Mom sure can dance!" Todd: "She's our grandmother and man oh man, she can dance way better than she can bowl!"
When I dropped off my two bowling buddies, I thanked Todd for calling me to pick him/them up. Todd: "Meme, you make everything fun" as both hugged and kissed me. Tanner said that he was surprised that I scored at all after hearing my story. Todd said that I should tell my old friends that I did better than 27 this time. Me: "I love you both so much. But, next time, do you think you could spare a strike?"
Laura Macy Author & Actress
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Friday, December 25, 2015
MAIN ATTRACTION AT A GAS STATION
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!
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!
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!"
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