DelBloggolo

REVERSE DISCRIMINATION

2012-02-03T00:00:00.000-08:00

The other night, TLW (The Little Woman) was upset. As we were almost ready to sit down and eat, she took a seat opposite from where she usually sits for dinner and begins to tell me about her evening so far.

It was after her Wednesday night course for the little 2^nd grade heathens on their journey to learn about Jesus and she was angry.

“You won’t believe what happened tonight.”

I was in doubt already. “What happened?”

“Well the class sometimes has a run of having to use the toilet, and they go off, come back and then I like to keep the door closed. After the last child returned I closed the door, which faces the main entrance to the church.”

So far I knew that to be true. “And?”

“Well, I finally hear this loud knock on the outside door, the choir practice had stopped for a few moments so I could hear it. I go see what the noise is, and this woman is on the outside of the locked church doors, so I open them. She then begins to lecture me on the fact that she has no car, had to take a bus to the church, the children saw her and didn’t open the door, and because she was black I didn’t open it for her, saying I looked at her and didn’t open it for her!”

“I hope you told her off.”

“You know me, I’m not prejudice, I did not see her standing there! The nerve of her lecturing me like I was a child! You’ve seen her, she’s in the church choir.”

“Well we all sometimes do that, not really paying attention, something or someone is there and you are pre-occupied and completely miss it or them! Besides, how can you come to a church and make accusations like that?”

“Yes, plus she WAS black, and it was dark out!”

“Did you tell her that you DON’T open doors for black women who come to church in a bus?”

If you know TLW, you know she is not prejudice. The only people she discriminates against are white males over 65 who are married to her. In all my years of marriage, she has never uttered a prejudice word. Her parents and family are like that too, so when someone assumes something like her being prejudice, you know that person is not credible.

GETTING REAL

2012-02-02T00:00:00.000-08:00

Someone once said that youth is wasted on the young. I’d like to take that a little further and say that old married couples are not young anymore.

You know how all you young ladies make yourselves presentable for a date, the makeup, the clothes, the jewelry, and you young guys with the cologne, the cool car, the dinner reservation, did you ever think what you’d look like in 40 years? What will you tolerate now that you wouldn’t tolerate then?

After 40 years of marriage, we settle into things we don’t care about. It is about getting old. You would wear the weirdest things in public today that you would NEVER wear 40 years ago.

40 years ago looking cool and sexy was important, today you want to feel. Feel comfortable, feel warm, feel at home. The only impression you want to make after 40 years is that he/she is listening to you. Who cares if your socks don’t match, if you keep your teeth out overnight, or if you belch, squelch or fart through your day?

Going out in public with sandals and black sox, who cares? Pulling open the car door for her, open the car door or any door for that matter, remember that? Making sure he was comfortable, had what he needed, remember that? Then you discovered: Gee, she’s like her father, he’s been spoiled by his mother!

That polka dot shirt is your favorite? And the striped pants are so you? So what if your ensemble is stripes and dots? WHO CARES, you’re old.

Farting is no longer an issue, just let it ride, relief is the key. Remember that commercial: “How do YOU spell relief?” Today you spell it F.A.R.T!

Remember how embarrassed we were if we heard our parents speak out loud in public when we were kids over 40 years ago? Does anyone remember why now?

Holding the door open for the little woman was routine, now it is if she is carrying in the pizza and beer for dinner.

Discretion was the better part of valor. When she/he left the toilet, we just waited it out before we dared to go in, now we announce: “What the hell!”

Remember before you married how demure she was? Now she tells you when to get off, where to go and how to do it. Remember the gentleman you once were; now you tell her she reminds you of her mother.

Remember the lingerie, the sexy clothes, the sweet nothings in your ear? So do I.

I know a few engaged couples. To you guys I say: you are never fully engaged until she complains that you snore, she hogs all the blankets, and you both cut the cheese.

Then the kids came, you remember, those sleepless nights that still haunt you? Remember how you argued how cute the kid was, how he took after you, now, 18 or so years later he takes after your spouse for sure, you were NEVER like that!

1-888-382-1222

2012-02-01T00:00:00.000-08:00

Wondering what this is? It is a favor from me to you from my old high school buddy, Ken.

Cell Phone Numbers Go Public this month.

YOUR cell phone number is being released to telemarketing companies and you will start to receive sales calls.
YOU WILL BE CHARGED FOR THESE CALLS

To prevent this, call the following number from your cell phone:

1-888-382-1222.
It is the National DO NOT CALL list It will only take a minute of your time.

It blocks your number for five (5) years. You must call from the cell phone number you want to have blocked. You cannot call from a different phone number.

HELP OTHERS BY PASSING THIS ON.

It takes about 20 seconds.

https://www.donotcall.gov/

XXX

Joe DelBloggolo & Ken Geiger

And you thought this blog is a waste of time!

TUMBLEWEED

2012-01-31T00:00:00.000-08:00

Way back in ’07, I had the pleasure to meet two very talented brothers who teamed up to produce and write a gem of a short film. One is the husband of my very first fan of this blog: from California, the lovely MFF (My Favorite Fan) Lauren.

Often we go through life wondering where things get their names and I know you, if you are like me, often wonder where the tumbleweed got its name. Well, good news folks, I have the answer.

Now you know from time to time I like to suggest a book, or recipe or event. Today it is a short film. Seven minutes and you are in and out in no time. You can’t even smooch with your significant other. (signifiCAN’T) other?

MFF-Lauren and Justin

Go out and find a great short called: (you ready for this?) ‘TUMBLEWEED’: an historic look at the tumbleweed.

For instance, do you know who discovered the tumbleweed and named it after himself? Well, watch the movie, it will shock you!

Did you know that it is called “Dry Brush” and “Stationary Weed” and even the very hurtful: “Dick Brush”? I didn’t think so.

http://mubi.com/garage/films?user_id=1094006

Jared (director) and Justin (writer) Varava are the two geniuses I speak of. When you hit either link, you will be cast into the facts of life, the joy of being, and a font of knowledge, besides, it’s good!

http://www.anillusionofmovement.com/ is their website, a nice place to visit if you shop on line with your wife and you need to wait for her while holding her pocketbook.

VEAL CHOPS AND THE AMERICAN DREAM

2012-01-30T00:31:00.000-08:00

Two veal chops cost me $21 the other day! When I was in high school, you could buy a car (used) for $25, and didn’t have to leave it in the refrigerator!

The cost of everything is going up, including keeping your sanity.

I still have a child in college, and that is expensive, when you factor in his cigarettes, tuition (a close second or so it seems) and incidentals. Incidentals are up 2.3%!

“But who cares, DelBloggolo, I got my own expenses, PLUS I read this for some strange reason!”

OK you got me there, things are bad for everyone.

I remember when I was a young kid, last week. Dad had the handle on his expenses, keeping meticulous records, everything was neatly filed and he took out his accordion folder, poured a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette. Opening his checkbook, he would write out a check, curse in Italian and that was that. What I found interesting was we didn’t have a lot of money, but he WAS organized.

I get letters from doctors I haven’t seen in years, sending me “Happy New Year” letters. Doctors trying to drum up business! My mechanic greeted me like I was a god: “Joe, it’s so good to see you again!” I bought a Prius and I needed it inspected, the car is a great investment, using very little gas in comparison to other cars. The mechanic is desperate now, even though people are repairing their cars and not buying new ones.

I even get a slide now from the Handy Pantry, they skip the $0.09 in a $1.09 buttered roll, and say: “See you tomorrow?” Everyone it seems is looking for business.

I have great empathy for riders of the LIRR. It seems they are constant targets of the MTA and must pay for bad management, poor service and promises to do better. Gas prices fluctuate so much you wonder when they will settle down, or should I say settle up.

So where is the American Dream? When do we realize we are having the American Dream, and not the American Nightmare? We scream about politicians and we keep electing them, we continue to pay ridiculous prices for things, big cars that consume our money where the gas is charged and paid like a mortgage every month. I see homes for sale, and no one buying them, I see people living in fear of losing their jobs, and I see people in supermarkets, living for coupons and sales, because that is the only way they can afford to live.

Feel Better

My gosh, even the New York Yankees are cutting back, and the Mets, well… so we are all in the same boat, paying high prices and watching the ship of state sink.

Throw me a life jacket, a used one please, I’m not paying top dollar to float in $(-)!+.

AMERICAN IDLE

2012-01-29T00:00:00.000-08:00

I happened to catch American Idol the other night and came to the conclusion that the good singers all suck.

Watching one after another sing and then hear: “You’re going to Hollywood”, left me cold. They all start to sound alike: good! Fortunately the coming attractions showed me something different coming: “After the break”.

Watching the faces of the judges seemed to relate that things were getting interesting, they would stink.

“Ah good, now we will see some real talent!” I related to TLW (The Little Woman).

“I was thinking the same thing!”

Anybody can get up there and sing and go to Hollywood, but how many of us would go up there and sing without talent?

It's not always pretty

Sitting in front of a TV is not easy sometimes: you have commercials, and interrupting phone calls, not to mention American Idol. The voices on American Idol sometimes match the costumes and hair dos, the talent is sometimes a little behind the performance. What they lack in talent they more than make up for in guts.

Give me the really bad performances, and I love it. I don’t want so-so, or poor, or just sorry voices, I want bad, face cringing sorry voices, I want the contestants to apologize for a performance so bad, they become popular performers.

These are the people I want to be in a foxhole with, trusting my life to. I want a Lady Ka Ka, to sing. I want to hear those broken voices, the screeching and forgetting the words, I want the people that think they are good but aren’t. I’m a rotten bastard!

After dragging through the show that was all so-so, it happened, I found my American Idol, Amy Zeiderman, and she was great! She started out lousy, prancing and dancing and as she did I remarked to TLW: If they send her to Hollywood we change the channel. Then something truly remarkable happened, the judges gave her another chance and she sings: ‘Blue Bijou’ and ruins my night. She was good, and boy do I hate that

I think I spend too much time idling in front of the TV at night!

IT’S ONE DAY A YEAR

2012-01-28T00:00:00.000-08:00

I lay on the couch, a sharp pain forming in my back, exhausted from the past few days. It was about 6 in the early evening 31 years ago, and TLW (The Little Woman) was showering, as I had done. Spending three days in a waiting room, sleeping on chairs was hard, but we needed to be near our son. The white foam coffee cups we had piled up only memorialized the time we spent in North Shore University Hospital, little Joseph sick and getting sicker.

We wouldn’t and couldn’t admit to what was in the back of our minds: the thought was too horrific. Every little turn and event we tried to make positive, that this time he would begin to heal. The doctors and nurses would come with something new, something different and it would give us hope, only to watch it dash our hopes.

I had wandered along the corridor in the children’s ward and on the pay phone was this woman, crying that they had lost their child, and I thought to myself how lucky I was that I still had mine. TLW and I were on a ship being tossed in a tempest, the sails were ripping and the water was crashing against us, the lightning so strong and powerful, it was deafening. I kept wondering how my other kids were, and what my wife’s state was. I was barely hanging onto the mast, blinded, feeling cold and lonely and still with a little hope in me.

The nurses told us to go home that morning, to get some rest, to eat something decent and come back tomorrow. I remember the ride home, as we discussed the events of the past three days. Turning off exit 60 of the L.I.E., I looked at the horizon and saw the clouds that were sweeping across the sky in the early morning dawn, the sun just ready to rise.

After a day with my parents, my sister Mary Ann, Joseph’s godmother and brother-in-law Dennis his godfather, and some wonderful neighbors, we sat and talked all day. The godparent’s went to visit him and came back to the house. Then everything settled down, they went home and we waited for the next day.

The Sunday before: TLW called me from the hospital while I took care of the kids and told me the bad news, that my son would not last the week, a crushing phone call that left me bleeding inside. We still weren’t even sure we knew what was killing him!

So that night on the couch, the Sunday’s call kept replaying in my mind. Then the phone rang, and I answered it. The doctor, an Indian or Pakistani accent to him, asked if we wanted to allow him to die or to continue to fight, and to please come down immediately. I was in shock and couldn’t think straight, and TLW was numb too, so she called her brother to take us down to the hospital.

As we climbed the steps to the ICU where Joseph was, a robed priest raced by us, flying through the doors, his white rope flinging wildly as he climbed and ran into the corridor that we were heading to. As we entered the doors I could see the nurse who cared for him covering him and sobbing, the priest leaving. My son's arms were lying outside the bed sheets and all the intravenous attachments from his forehead, arms and legs were gone, like he was healed, sleeping a deserved sleep. It seemed so strange to see and I felt a strange relief in a way. The doctor came out and took us into her office and talked to us. She asked if we wanted to give his organs away, and the thought revolted me, here I had just lost him, and she was asking me such a question! Maybe I should have, and it may have saved someone else from the anguish and pain we were feeling, but I couldn’t think that way, I was too much into the shock and horror of it all. But we sat in her office and I recall being there just a few short months ago, in fact it was the day after Thanksgiving, that Friday she told us he had suffered a seizure. It was the beginning of a horror that would last through two hospitals and two months time.

Every year, I spend 361 days cruising through me life, then one day a year, the breaks come screeching as I come to a halt. That is today. Today I will go to his grave and then to a little garden I built in his memory that sits next to the house and remember his short life.

One of my regrets in life is that I did not stay with him that day.

I’M NOT A BIG FAN OF OLD

2012-01-27T00:00:00.001-08:00

It seems to me that getting older is a little tiresome now. There’s the issue of getting up in the morning for instance. My eyes pop open and I think: why am I laying here? I could go back to sleep like I used to, but the days are winding down to a precious few, and I still have things I don’t want to do that need doing.

As I climb into the shower, the mind, or what’s left of it starts to kick in, as I review what I have targeted that needs to be done, or needs to be resolved. It is here, under the shower of a steady rain of warm water, ‘inspirational falls’ that my best ideas come.

Once I climb out of the shower, the whole day seems to fall apart!

I look into the mirror then decide not to look, the lights are too bright, and I can see that I am no longer 20, so I retreat to my bedroom where the light is not so good, that makes for a more perfect mirror at my age.

when I remembered Now I don't

I have decided long ago not to complicate my life, and once I get rid of a few petty annoyances, things will be fine. The car needs inspection, one of the tires is indicating it needs air, the house needs to be cleaned, and I have meetings, meetings and more meetings. There is a book I’m trying to edit and … well you know.

It seems that I can’t hold onto things like I used to. Two socks and one falls to the ground, so I bend over, and my body yells: “Whoa! Not so fast guy!”

I get my medication out in the morning, and the smallest of the pills jumps out and rolls away, might even fall to the floor, and I think of what it cost per pill, I wipe it off and hope I don’t die from it falling on the floor, (The house needs cleaning), I get mad at myself for being clumsy and trudge on, meanwhile my body yells: Whoa! Not so fast guy!”

Breakfast is now a chore. I hate to eat breakfast, but know I should. So I get out my favorite box of cereal, the one with all the gas in it, and try to chew of both sides of my mouth, no use wearing out all the teeth on one side when I can wear them out evenly.

I go off to a meeting, and have a GPS on the dashboard of my car, but it doesn’t help. I get to a house where I am suppose to meet someone, the GPS says: “Arriving at destination.” I get out of the car, but somehow I sense I’m at the wrong place, but continue to the front door. The house is enormous, not like the ones down the street. This place has an iron-gate, beautiful winding driveway, and the flowers are still growing in January. I take out my cell phone and call. Yup, wrong house. I typed in 44 instead of 24 for the address number!

In the meeting, we have a choice of sandwiches that were delivered from a deli: there is turkey, roast beef and Italian. Now is the time to be a good boy and have the turkey. Although I hate turkey, always did, and roast beef is ok when I have horseradish on it, I know either is better for me than the Italian sandwich. So I accidentally reach for the Italian, with the great salami and cheese, that will taste so good, hey, maybe next time I will concentrate more on my reaching technique. Besides, if God didn’t want me to eat one, would he have put it out? A truly loving God, amen.

I’m off to another meeting, and this time I know where it is, just need to know how to got there from where I am. No problem, I have a GPS! I drive and misread the map and go off in the wrong direction. How can I misread a map on a GPS? Well there was this turn see, and the arrow was pointing in a sideway direction, and I thought I was where I wasn’t, or I wasn’t where I thought I was, or something.

And so I finally get home, I forgot to lock the door!

WHAT TO DO?

2012-01-26T00:00:00.000-08:00

Being a Jets fan, I’ve been rooting for the NY Giants to go to the SuperBowl. Not a big deal until you weight the alternative, the New England Patriots, a team that TLC (The Lovely Courtney) supports.

I am caught between kielbasa and homemade chocolates!

Kielbasa

My brother-in-law John, my first Polish connection to the world is a Giants fan. At Easter and Christmas, kielbasa is out on the table and I love it. He offers either red or white horseradish to add to it and a piece of pumpernickel or rye bread. TLC every Christmas brings her homemade chocolate every year. So you see the dilemma, kielbasa-chocolate? Merry Christmas!

Chocolate!

Now at Christmas morning, if I go to my older sister (much older) Tessie’s house, John puts out the kielbasa and I make a Polish Big Mac. I get some bread, a nice fat slice of kielbasa, and then I add the red and white horseradish and pile it on top, and toast the Kosciuszko Bridge it might have come over on. Then once at home, I reach into a Christmas tin that sits in the refrigerator and take either a peanut butter of coconut candy made by the lovely Courtney! It’s good in America!

So, who do I root for? Will I be risking the chocolates? Will it be the kielbasa? You know that horseradish is pretty good, but that coconut with chocolate!

Here is the other dilemma, during the regular season, there are two teams I hate as a Jets Fan, the Giants and the Patriots, so who do I root for? It is a shame that there aren’t two losers; I could really enjoy the game.

2 IS COMPANY...

2012-01-25T00:00:00.000-08:00

A college son is a crowd!

You have all heard that old adage: “You can’t go home again.”

#2 Son keeps defying old adages. He keeps coming home again, and when he does, it takes TLW (The Little Woman) and me until he leaves to go back to school that we get used to it.

There is the issue of coffee. He drinks lots and lots of my coffee. Not his mother’s brand, no mine. Mine cost me about 55 cents a cup, TLW’s maybe 11 cents.

The little darling years ago

Then there is the beer and soda bill. Now I don’t drink soda, and hardly ever except in the summer time, drink beer. Guess who drinks lots and lots of soda and beer? Go ahead, guess, AND NO CHEATING.

Lucky.

Cigarettes are another item that the industry is kept alive with #2 Son and my money.

Of course you can’t start the day off without breakfast. I like one kind of cereal and one kind only. Guess who else is eating it, two bowls at a time? Go ahead, guess, AND NO CHEATING.

Lucky.

My TV remote and portable phone have legs of their own, as do TLW’s lap top, where they all meet for midnight rendezvous with #2 Son, all night, every night. The next morning, TLW and I play e-hunt, looking for the electronic items so we can continue our mundane electronic lives.

Looking for the newspaper? You’ll find it outside with #2 Son, a cup of coffee and cigarette, the newspaper waiting to be re-assembled in numerical order.

And then there is the issue of dinner plates, cups and glasses. As we go about our business, the supply of the above mentioned items start to dwindle down to a precious few! One night we almost had to eat off of one plate! Usually we volunteer TLW to go on a expedition to #2 Son’s room where we tie a long rope to her waist, and cell phone in her hand and send her looking for the missing items. Once she enters, there is no turning back. It is a dangerous mission, almost suicidal and demands great skill and know-how. If I don’t hear from her in a few days, I call the rescue squad to find her. They don’t like the job without getting overtime pay, and demand to be recognized, as the 9/11 rescuers are, brave men all.

A HOLY DAY

2012-01-24T00:00:00.000-08:00

#2 Son goes back to Purchase today!

I treat it as a high holy day, a day like Christmas or Easter! A day for joy you ask?

Let me tell you.

#2 Son

#2 Son is going to a place that he loves, an environment that he grows in. It is the best place he has ever been in. He takes me back to my own youth, and those days at The New York Institute of Technology, another great place to live in.

Joe College

When I went to college, a whole new world opened up to me, one that was exciting and filled with new concepts to think about. It was also a channel for my art and a great love for reading developed. I was learning about things outside of Bellport, and never looked back. The funny thing is when I left college to hone my craft in the advertising world; I still looked back at the college days, because like your mother, it stays with you in your face.

College gave me an identity, a purpose and a deep want for more! I was able to distinguish a good woman and found one to marry, it gave me values that I tried to pass on to my children, and it also gave me a perspective on life and how fleeting it is.

Today, when I go to the library, I go like a child in a candy store, there is so much to find! The good thing is no calories!

I find myself now arguing life with both my sons, they have their own creative minds, their own opinions, and their own lives, and I must say it is a challenge to see and know them. I am a very proud father.

I kid about #1 and #2 Sons, but that is because my nature is such that I love to laugh, at myself, but I sometimes run out of material, so “the boys”, as Mamma calls them are my next target.

You’ve heard enough from me about #1 Son for a while, but the book hasn’t been written yet on #2 Son, and I am excited to find it in the library of life, so I can see it written first hand, then I will read it.

Miss Ellie

Growing up with four sisters and being the only boy, made we want to have sons. The one thing in life I wanted most was sons, and I love my sisters and I truly love my daughter, there is no doubt, but to me, having sons is a great gift from on high. Money is nice, possessions are nice, but sons are what gives me happiness and pride, and I have two of the best, both different and unique, and both by the way, great material for this blog!

OMG!

2012-01-23T00:00:00.000-08:00

The news was coming fast and furious from the TV. It didn’t sound good, and now I would have to hear about. I shifted nervously in my recliner, wishing I had stayed in bed. Newt had had a bad previous day, and I knew what that meant. My doctor’s appointment is next month and I would hear about it in his office. Not only would I hear about it, I would get another rundown on the Insurance industry, lawyers, and other deviants in society.

I am not a Newt Gingrich fan, never was and never will be, except when the doctor is about to stick a needle in my arm while he extols the virtues of Mr. Gingrich as was the case the last time I saw the good doctor.

Dr. O’Hno: “You want a flu shot? You know we have to get that bum out of office. Roll up your sleeve. He’s killing the country! Don’t you think?”

Looking at the needle ready to stab me-

“Oh Yes!”

Dr. O’Hno: “We need to get Newt Gingrich into office, now is the time.”

Closing my eyes and silently praying I respond.

“Oh, sure. Go Newt!”

And so it goes. In the early morning news report, Old Newt’s ex was talking about an open marriage and she was not making Mr. Gingrich look good. Sipping my morning coffee, I go:

“Oh, my God! Now I’m in for it.”

The Little Woman (TLW): “What’s wrong?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment next month with Dr. O’Hno, and he is a big Newt supporter!”

TLW: “I’ve never seen anyone worry about his doctor’s visit based on the political situation!”

“Well, you know how the last appointment went, that’s all I need!”

TLW: “Why don’t you get another doctor?”

“What? And be ill-informed?”

FINANCIAL SERVICE REPRESENTATIVE

2012-01-22T00:00:00.000-08:00

My pork chops looked good! They sat in a heated dish waiting for us to sit down and eat. As I poured us a drink, TLW (The Little Woman), made her announcement.

“They changed my title at the Wanna-Be-Bank & Truss Company today.”

I immediately envision a title on the door and a Bigelow on the floor. I also added to that fantasy with samples she would bring home.

Me: “Oh! What is it now?”

“FINANCIAL SERVICE REPRESENTATIVE!”

Me: “FINANCIAL SERVICE REPRESENTATIVE? Sounds impressive! What do you do now?”

“Same job, just a different title.”

There went my fantasy.

Me: “So when people come into the Wanna-Be-Bank & Truss Co., they see a sign or something saying Financial Assistance Representative?”

“Financial SERVICE Representative. No, no signs, just the same as before.”

Me: “No large increase in pay, or benefits or time off?” After all, you ARE now the new Financial Representative of Services!”

“FINANCIAL SERVICE REPRESENTATIVE, and no, nothing more.”

I started thinking: Maybe I need a new title around HERE. You know to shake things up a little. Maybe I could hire Deloitte & Touche to advise me. A new title would do me some good.

Me: “So, are you the only one with a title change?”

“No, we all got title changes.”

Me: “What about the people that come and go with money, you know the ‘members’?”

“No, just the people that take care of them.”

Me: “Well, it is nice to know that a more important titled person is taking care of us now. Let me speak to the Financial Representative of Services, PARDON ME!”

“It’s “FINANCIAL SERVICE REPRESENTATIVE!”

Me: “Oops, sorry!”

BRAGGING

2012-01-21T00:00:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, your kids do something and you want to jump up and down and tell the world. OK, you know already, and I did post it on Facebook, but it is something to brag about, or maybe relate to the world about.

Marry Me Magazine recently published an article about #1 Son and TLC (The Lovely Courtney)”s wedding, and the story behind how they met and got engaged. See:

A Love Story: An East Coast State of Mind | MarryMEmagazine.com

I could take either #1 Son or TLC and go on about them for hours, because I think they are so terrific, however I won’t. But I will relate some responses about #1 Son’s email to me about the story being e-published and my putting it in an email as a link to just about everyone in my contacts that I know would enjoy seeing it.

Here is a sample of what you guys said.

“Wow! Great looking couple. Thank God your son takes after Ellen.”

Here is another self-esteem booster:

“Nice story! Good job in nurturing a Mets fan AND a successful writer. The positive influence must have come from your wife.”

I’m not a vindictive man: I just hope Santa Clause doesn’t come to your house this year!

There are more, but why bore you with such things that I know will only upset you.

LE RIVAGE

2012-01-20T00:00:00.000-08:00

New York City, and Manhattan in particular is and has been the place for opulence, sophistication and class since the Indians sold it to the white man. I have been to London, Paris and Rome, three very sophisticated cities, but they all are just part of the greatest city on Earth, NYC.

In the heart of the city, the theatre district, sits a little place, very French and very sophisticate called: Le Rivage, 340 West 46th St. New York, NY. It is a dining experience that one reads about, and is almost a secret. It sits in the middle of a street, with nothing fancy to lure you into its space. A simple blue and white awning hangs over an entranceway that cautions you to step down, and as you do, it is cosmopolitan Paris once again.

The restaurant is a narrow long layout that fits the bottom floor of an old apartment building, probably built at the turn of the last century. Cramped would be a good word to describe this very friendly place. The owner greeted us and we were promptly seated ahead of our scheduled reservation.

I have been to Le Rivage before, after other theatre dates, and each time has been a similar experience, the food was delicious, with saffron laced lobster bisque that was light, and a little different.

But the fun thing is of course observing people, and that is what I do best for my own amusement. Next to us was a very nice couple maybe our age. She was very talkative and he was very listeningative (Made that up) to what she said.

“Dear, maybe you should try the prosciutto with melon for an appetizer?”

And then again:

“Dear, do you think they can make your drink the way you want it, maybe you should order something else?”

The gentleman was intent on his prosciutto and his drink, a ‘side car’. He orders it and the young bartender, a woman goes behind the bar and immediately looks it up, and makes the drink and returns with the ‘side car’, places it in front of the man, who sips it. The waitress says: “I hope you like it Monsieur, I don’t know though!”

The gentleman makes his determination that it is “close” and merrily orders wine.

All through dinner I had an urge to lean over to him as we sat at adjoining tables and tell him to lose his long tie and get a bow tie. I wanted to say: You are a bow tie man; He just looked like he should wear one.

Our dinners were great, I didn’t order the escargot, I can’t eat a lot any more, but maybe next time I will forgo the soup and eat the escargot instead.

Then there was this couple sitting across from me. She too was doing most of the talking, and he, without a tie was doing all the listening. As she spoke in Gatling gun fashion, he tended to allow his eyes to wander around the room like he was half listening, but would throw out a responsive word every so often. All of a sudden, two lovely young ladies are seated next to his table, and suddenly he was focused, but not on his dinner partner!

The night was bitter cold, no question about that, but I love to get the sights and sounds of the big city as part of my experience in being there. At night, after sunset, it seems to come alive in another type of vitality; people are off somewhere to do other things, to end their day, but because it was so windy I would miss that. We decided since it was so cold, we would head back to the Waldorf and have a drink in the lounge. The wind made walking impossible and so I hailed a cab.

After a stop at our room we went down to Sir Harry’s Lounge on the main floor of the Waldorf. Sir Harry must be a very rich man by now, because the place was loaded with cheering football fans watching the Giants play the Green Bay Packers and the mixed drinks start at $21 a pop!

The place itself had these big double cherry wood doors with etched glass that read: Sir Harry’s Bar and Lounge. Inside, lining both sides of the long room were small sofas and tables with chairs, all owning little lamps and checkered top wooden tables, inlaid of course.

I think everyone should in their life time try to enjoy the finer things in life, make it special and damn the price, because I want to be laid to rest knowing I tried.

THE WALDORF AND ME

2012-01-19T00:00:00.000-08:00

A marriage made in heaven!

I had a master plan since it was so cold, we would take the subway and then strategically use it to get to the Waldorf from Penn Station. Caesar, or Napoleon, or Ike would have though the strategy brilliant, yet simple. Take the ‘E’ train from Penn Station, walk under ground to 51^st Street and cross the street to the Waldorf. Nice, simple and pretty direct. TLW didn’t want to pay for parking for two days, and so it was the LIRR for the weekend.

There was one tiny problem when we got to the token booth. No ‘E’ trains were running because of work on the tracks! Being it has been years since I rode the darn thing, I make a big mistake and take the ‘C’ train which leaves me off across town, and now we have to walk across town, but not without paying a price. TLW (The Little Woman), wanted to take the subway, I offered the taxi, but no, it had to be the subway.

We enter a crowded subway car and the train does 95 mph on all the sharp bends, while I am awkwardly holding onto a crossbar with TLW holding onto me. I wrenched my knee from that experience, which I felt the next few days!

Not realizing how long the walk in the cold was, we trudged through the Sunday afternoon pedestrian traffic, joggers, baby strollers and cabs manned by retired Kamikaze pilots while people on suicide missions wishing to do it in their cars on a Sunday Morning in Midtown Manhattan.

Finally we arrive at the Waldorf, on the Park Avenue side of the hotel. Entering this place is like entering a grand palace, with tuxedoed attendants all over you, just standing there! Large vases, gold gilded trim, marble floors, inlaid mahogany covered walls and more gold, and that’s just the revolving door!

We finally find the registration desk and sign in. The gal behind the registration desk then begins the process and discussing the rules, what I get and how I get it, what is available and the magic of the key, like getting the elevators to work. By the time she is done, I’m seriously wondering if we should book the room for an extra night since this day was being shot to hell with this registration process!

We get into the elevator and the doors close on two country bumpkins. We push the 41 floor button, but nothing is happening! I push, then TLW pushes, nothing. Suddenly the doors slide apart opening for this woman and a fellow in a tuxedo shirt (guests) who enter and TLW states our predicament.

“Oh! Did you use your room key?”

Me: “Room key?”

She pulls hers out and in it goes and asks what floor and does it again for us.

“Where are you guys from?” she asks.

I hesitate and want to say ‘Port Washington’, not ‘Holbrook’. (After all, this IS the Waldorf, and HE is walking around in a tuxedo shirt)

I figure “Hey, we’re old, let them get over it”. We part and I find our room. We enter and this place is beautiful, there is an outer room with a bathroom bigger than my den to our left, overlooking the north side of the building with its large waist to ceiling window, on our right is a wet bar, with gold fixtures and shelves and mirrors with silk wall paper and them we enter our bedroom with a window on the north side and one on the east side, overlooking what else, but the east side of Manhattan, and you can see the east River. This is on the 41^st floor, a view that knocked my socks off that evening.

We check it all out and I realize we need to leave now for the theatre to see Mamma Mia at the Winter Garden.

WE were suddenly royalty!

MAMMA MIA!

2012-01-18T00:00:00.000-08:00

As they say in Italiano: “Mamma Mia!”

On January 15, 1970, TLW (The Little Woman) and I got engaged, and that was 41 years ago. We climbed aboard the LIRR and off we went to the greatest city on Earth and enjoyed some the great things the city offers 41 years later. One of those was the Broadway production of Mamma Mia, at the Winter Garden.

The Winter Garden dates back to 1850 and has burned down several times only to be resurrected by different owners through the years.

Since 2001, this lively pop musical featuring the songs of the Swedish 70’s super-group ABBA has been playing to enthusiastic nightly standing ovations for more than a decade. The show is just down right enjoyable, with such great music and music stylization, and a leading lady with a voice so powerful, so beautiful and so dynamic that you must see it to believe.

The score of 23 songs includes mega-hits "Dancing Queen," "Knowing Me, Knowing You," "Take A Chance on Me," and, of course, the irresistible title song, are all rendered to the point that it will jerk a tear.

There is one scene where the Mother of the Bride is combing her daughter’s hair, and sings this beautiful melodic rendition of a mother’s love, a beautiful moment.

One scene as an example: http://www.entertainment-link.com/broadway/musicals/mamma-mia.asp

This is the kind of production that surprises you, and the music takes you away, and when it is finished, you want more. Three and three quarters hours fly by, the intermission becomes an annoyance since it interrupts, and the show itself keeps your interest until the last note!

By when the last note is sung in the story, the cast comes out for the traditional bows, and there starts the real show, the singing, lifting the audience out of their seats and into the aisles, singing and dancing! Something you rarely see even on Broadway! Its like a religious revival!

Mamma Mia was a gift to TLW from me, we had the best seats in the house, 10 rows back from the stage, in the center, perfect seats. You might say they were the equivalent of being on the 50-yard line! She deserves these seats after 41 years.

I think TLW didn’t expect such a production, and was pleasantly surprised by the show and just how good it was.

The Winter Garden is a beautiful theatre inside; the detailing is very old school and ornate, with sculpture based relief allegories and fine old world designs, with special balconies and lighting.

Although the theatre is not very deep, it is very wide, so having the seats we had was important. There is a balcony that overhangs the orchestra, so there is room for a large audience.

If you haven’t seen it, please do so; it is special.

OLD FRIENDS

2012-01-17T00:00:00.000-08:00

There are friends, and there are ‘old friends’, not from age but from longevity. They don’t need to say much to impress you, and when they do say something, well it can knock your socks off with their humor.

Lois "I can Cope with anything"

When TLW (The Little Woman) joined the Wanna-Be-Bank and Truss Co. so many years ago, one of the people that stood out was a lady named Lois. Lois over the years got to know us and we got to know her. She can easily be mistaken for her look-alike: TLW, and often when I call TLW at the Wanna-Be-Bank, Lois will pick up her phone because TLW is either with a member, away from her desk, or out to lunch.

I am not good at distinguishing voices on the phone, and so when Lois answers, I mistakenly go into my spiel. It might go something like this if I'm not careful:

“Hi Toots, since it’s our anniversary, what would you like for dinner?”

Toots II: “Whichever fancy restaurant you’d like to take me to, of course.”

“Well, I…”

Toots II: “Of course, unless you think it’s not so important, and want to open up a can of beans?”

“Well I…”

Toots II: “Oh, how inconsiderate of me, the gift is too big to carry around! Well we could open the gift when we get home. You can give it to me with the carrot cake from my favorite bakery in Philadelphia: which I love so much. It’s on Broad Street – 185 Broad Street, called Millie’s Cakes. You want the directions?”

OK, I got 2 Toots here, which one is which?

“Well… I, that is, uh…”

Toots II: “Boy, will all your sisters be proud when I tell them how well you treat me! And your Mother, she’ll turn her wooden spoon into toothpicks!”

“OK, whatever you want.”

Toots II: “Good, this is Toots II, I’ll get her.”

For years Toots II has tried very hard to get over her being over the age of 39, and all her friends would love to help push her over. She never makes a whole lot of noise, quietly going about her business and not getting involved in office politics or drama of any kind. The lunch schedule is never an issue, and if she does complain, all the employees of the Wanna-Be-Bank and Truss Co., get the list and try to rub her out.

Very few employees complain about Lois, except when in the Ladies room, where she does her imitation of Josh Groban. Once again, the good folks like to help her out.

Lois has become the master of getting to places without use of major highways. Yes, she can get to NYC, without use of the LIE, the Southern or Northern State Parkways, and has often said: “Robert Moses, who needs Robert Moses?” Her feeling is that if you have to merge into traffic, you might as well stay home.

There are many similarities that Toots I and Toots II share, besides looking alike, they went to the same schools, lived in the same area, and are both Irish, so with that in mind, there may be more of them out there!

Today, once again she will try very hard to get over the age of 39, but be kind, don’t say things like: Boy, you look good for your age, or, was that you driving on Main Street with your left blinker on doing 10 mph? No, it is her birthday today, so give her space, and ladies, if you work in the Wanna-Be-Bank and Truss Co., use the Men’s room today.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOTS II- we all love you!

HOW I HATE IT WHEN SHE DOES THAT!

2012-01-16T00:00:00.000-08:00

It was early in the morning, right before writing this blog in fact, that TLW (The Little Woman) came downstairs after getting ready for work.

“How come you don’t have the TV news on this morning?”

After 40 years of being married to her, I should know better than sit there and wait for what comes next. I should have put the laptop down and went to the bathroom with a newspaper to wait out the morning. But NO, I have to ask:

Stupid: “I don’t know, WHY?”

TLW: “There was report on the news this morning done by some insurance company, and guess who are the worst drivers?”

OK, we see where this is going; it is one of the following:

Men

Men in their 60’s

Married Men

Married Men married for 40 years or more

Men who use lap tops

Married Men who use lap tops

Just plain old me.

Stupid: “Who?”

TLW: “Men! 80% of the car accidents are caused by men!”

Somehow I feel compelled to apologize.

Stupid: “Well, that is because women aren’t married to women.” (Snappy comeback, no?)

TLW: “Yes, that is one of the stupid answers men gave, but they are the cause of most accidents.”

Men get into accidents, women cause accidents. They drive 20 miles an hour, talking on a cell phone, backing everything up. Men get frustrated and try to go around them and Bang.

Now I’m no chauvinist, some of my best friends know women drivers, but come on, I’ve been victimized by women more times than not. They stop behind cars in front of them for a light about two car lengths behind, so that when I’m behind her, by the time she sees the light has changed, manages to finally move and get by the light, it CHANGES ON ME, I HAVE TO WAIT FOR ANOTHER LIGHT!

OK, I admit that men are getting very bad as drivers, they do break the law too often, women don’t. Inside of one week I had two guys break the law and almost cause an accident, both times I could have been killed! That reminds me, anyone want to be my backup in case I croak?

There is too much arrogance going on, men are stupid when they drive, thinking they are the only ones who are entitled to the road. They take stupid chances and don’t pay attention. But these men are usually younger than 55 and should be stopped if possible, before a lot of innocent people are killed.

IT WASN’T VERY HARD TO DO

2012-01-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

Forty-one years ago today TLW (The Little Woman) and I got engaged. Cigarette commercials were banned on TV and Radio, and other than that, it was a quiet day in for the history books.

What started on the Long Island railroad, I though I’d finish on the Long Island Railroad. We had decided to marry the day after Thanksgiving, 1970 and on January 14^th, 1971 we went into the city to pick up the ring at the diamond district. To celebrate the occasion we went to the Riverboat restaurant near Penn Station, and I promised her I would give her the ring on St. Valentine’s Day.

I lied.

I could see she really wanted that ring, and she wanted it NOW! As for me, holding onto the ring made me nervous. That night I resolved to surprise her on the train and let her have it.

The next morning she joined me on the train and I slipped it on her finger. We rode with tons of friends on one car, every day and night, everyone knew us and we were friends with everybody. Up and down the aisle Miss Manning paraded, showing off her ice, flinging her bling, and I watched from my seat as people were really enthused about the event.

Every now and then I do something right, this was one of them. I guess you could say she was very engaging.

AND ANOTHER THING!

2012-01-14T00:00:00.000-08:00

Went to visit my 93 year old mother to show her #1 Son’s and TLC (The Lovely Courtney) wedding spread done by a magazine called ‘My Wedding’ a beautiful 4 page spread about the wedding in July. Being how Mom didn’t go to the wedding because she is physically unable to, I try to bring her up to date.

Before I visited her, I called her first.

“Hello, Ma! How are you feeling?’

“I’m feeling just fine.”

“Will you be home tomorrow, or are you going dancing again?”

“Very funny. How come I am honored once again by your visit?”

Not wanting to spoil the surprise of the magazine layout.

“Oh, I finally decided to bring you my 8^th grade report card, so you can sign it and I can turn it in.”

I arrive and ring the doorbell, and Henry, Mom’s boy toy and house boy answered.

“Oh! She’s downstairs in the basement looking for old buttons!”

“Hang IN THERE, Henry.”

Mom climbs the steps and says:

I found an old sweater, you know for the house, but it needed some buttons, so I’m looking with Henry to find some. You know, just for around the house.”

I show Mom the layout, she goes OOOOH! Ahhhhh…. She is so beautiful, he looks so handsome. Didn’t he wear a tuxedo?”

“Yes Ma, that’s a tux, it’s grey!”

Oh, my eyes are going, so where’s the report card you wanted me to sign?”

Mr. Romeny I presume?

“Ma, I was only kidding!”

“I thought it was kind of strange, I was trying to figure out how old you are and how long you would keep a report card from me!”

We all go to the kitchen, as Henry has made coffee and it is all poured.

“So tell me, what do you think about that Obama? And that wife of his, fighting with everybody! And another thing…the other one that Romoney, oh God, I hope they don’t let him win!”

“Ma, I assure you there will be no Romoney as president.”

“Well, I hope not.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Liz Manning-Gohlinghorst, my beautiful niece and a great mom!

I CONFESS

2012-01-13T00:00:00.000-08:00

The other day I happen to be going by the kitchen table and there was an index card lying there. Since I clean up a lot as a hen-pecked husband, I thought I’d check it out and toss it if need be.

As I read the card, the content suddenly caused me to sit down and wonder! The shocking accusations were true and finally someone was catching up to me after all these years! Yes, I was guilty, and I could understand getting it all down on paper. The charges against me were plain and clear. I though: “How interesting they do things these days! Put all your sins and misdemeanors on an index card for easy reference!

On the card were three statements;

1) I disobeyed my parents

2) I fought with my sisters

3) I lied to my mother

Well all the facts were there, and maybe there wasn’t enough room to list them all!

I started to imagine the file they would build on me with this method. All my transgressions were being categorized into simple statements and all I had to do was sign each index card and they could go on to others I victimized, all too numerous to even count, but it was a start. There was my older sister Tessie’s (much older) 40^th birthday, the time I told a business acquaintance who was to meet TLW (The Little Woman) for the first time that she was deaf in her left ear and her right ear was very close to deafness, and would he be kind enough to shout into her right ear so she could be part of the conversations. Of course I would need to sign the one about my Dad falling asleep on a lawn chair one summer day and my putting the garden hose that was laying in the hot sun all day in his pocket and turning the spigot on to a trickle, (he literally thought he was wetting his pants!) and I won’t even think about sloppy John the vegetable guy on Stone Avenue in Brooklyn.

I asked TLW what the card was all about, and if it was a confession I needed to sign.

“No, I am teaching my little second graders about confession, so I made up those sins so they can practice.” Sure she had to imagine them, I have to recall them!

“Oh! Well then, if you need any more sins, something more original, just ask.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY HANDSOME NEPHEW MARC DZICEK, Awonderful father and husband!

OUCH!

2012-01-12T00:00:00.001-08:00

I’m a New York Jets fan, and openly admit it. OK, so what? I’m also a Mets fan, and NO ONE should admit THAT!

I’m all caught up in the playoffs this year as the football season winds down, particularly rooting for the Giants, my team before the Jets came into being. Last Sunday, TLW (The Little Woman) went and got my daughter while I watched the Giants beat the Falcons. This Sunday promises to be an even bigger day as the Giants go to Green Bay to play the Packers.

So you ask yourself; “So what?”

Well, I got TLW tickets to the Broadway production of Mamma Mia, and it starts at 2:00 pm on Sunday. As they say in the hospital: “Ouch!” Right into the middle of the playoff season and I made reservations, bought tickets and everything! So I decided, since that is the day we got engaged 41 years ago, let’s really make it special, let’s book a room at the Waldorf Astoria, and find a nice fancy French restaurant to dine at after the show, and plan something for Monday. This will help take the sting away from missing the game.

Often as a young art director working in Manhattan, I would climb the steps at the 51^st street Lexington Avenue subway station and see the Waldorf. How often I told myself how wonderful it would be to stay there just once. One can get caught up in the glamour of NY City and the elegance it offers.

I would walk along Park Avenue, or come from the Pan Am building and see the Waldorf and wonder again about the elegance and splendor of the hotel. Once I went scouting for locations for a sweepstakes local to take photos and the Waldorf came to mind, but I settled on the Plaza instead. I often wished I hadn’t.

Le Rivage is the restaurant. It is located in the heart of the theatre district and is in a brownstone on the bottom floor. It is a small cozy place with elegance as the décor, spectacular food as the results and with a nice wine and/or champagne, I will revel in my luck in what I did 41 years ago.

I will miss the game this Sunday, but I’d rather spend it with TLW, while we are both healthy, and appreciate each other. This little trip into the city will be special, TLW is, so why not?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO A GREAT GIANT FAN: MY HANDSOME NEPHEW GREG SCHNEIDER, GREAT HUSBAND AND FATHER!

REST IN PEACE

2012-01-11T00:00:00.000-08:00

It was my first, and frankly I was nervous. Jerry Murray, my partner had done this kind of thing before, and so reassured me with visions of money dancing in my head. I peaked out the sanctuary door and saw people coming in, and yet the church was dimly lit, just what I expected.

When I looked at the altar-boy assignment sheet that week, there it was, Del Bloggolo/Murray –Tues. 8:00 am Mass, 9:00 am Funeral Mass. Reading it made me jumpy, a lump was in my throat, after all what does an 11-year old know about dead people, being in the same place with them and crying people?

I remember the last time I was at a funeral Mass, my first-grade teacher, old Miss Langon had died, and I went to the funeral parlor with my older sister Tess (Much older) on our way home from Our Lady of Lourdes School one afternoon. I went to the Mass the next morning to make sure that she was indeed dead and wouldn’t be yelling anymore, besides, I had to go because the school made us go. She was a cranky old maid about 150 years old, with a grey bun and thing legs in floral dresses. She carried a ruler around with her like a cop carries a nightstick, but used it more often on little first-graders.

Once the old witch accused me of talking in class, even though I didn’t and sent me to the wardrobe room and closed the doors on me! I was mad, and decided to strike back! On the shelf running the length of the closet, or shall I say my cell, was a shelf stocked with writing paper. I opened one package and began to crumple up the paper and stuff all the pockets of the kid’s coats. As the noon bell rang in the hallway, I was released and we put on our coats to march off to lunch. In those days you could go home to lunch, but had to be back at 1:00 pm promptly. As the kids put on their coats, they discovered the paper and the look of bewilderment crossed so many faces that day I never ever forgot it.

The experience of the old bags funeral has left me un-nerved, and every time I smelled flowers I think about the dead, and how horrific it would be when I had to face someone I loved dying. I may have been young, but my imagination was very active.

Finally Father LaTour appeared and got us in line to go out to the altar. Jerry had the large crucifix and I had a lit candle. Standing at the foot of the altar, suddenly I see the casket! My knees start to feel weak, my stomach is in a knot, and I am staring at the casket as it comes closer and closer. Behind is the grieving widow and a bunch of old people, slowly following the casket as it is led up toward me. Closer and closer it came, when suddenly I am in great shock and pain! Something is crawling down my forehead! Hot wax! The melting wax from the candle is running down my head, it hurts, and the dead guy is getting closer! Father signals me to go to the corner of the altar to get the incense boat, which I do and now I have to follow him around the casket! To alleviate my fears, I think about the money I would be tipped by whoever was going to tip me. I tried to figure that one out, but everyone looked like they had money, they were all wearing suits! This might be a problem, but then I realized Jerry might know since he did this before. After smoking the dead guy up, we turned and went onto the altar, and I hope that that was as close as I had to get to the casket that day. Finally, the Mass was over and once more, life returned to normal. The funeral director or relative of the dead man on wheels came back to where we were taking off the vestments and paid us both: $5.00! This was incredible money? I was rich, God this was wonderful!

I checked the assignment schedule once more to see if maybe I was on another funeral that week. For $5.00, bring them on baby!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO A GREAT GIANT FAN: MY HANDSOME NEPHEW GREG SCHNEIDER, GREAT HUSBAND AND FATHER!

TAG LINES

2012-01-10T00:00:00.000-08:00

She was sitting in her Wanna-Be-Bank & Truss Company shirt, the blue one with the logo she wears every Saturday that she works. She was quieter than usual, and it struck me that maybe she was ill. But no, she wasn’t ill, just not yet primed to discuss her day with me.

It was dinnertime and I had prepared a rib eye steak and Asian broccoli, her favorite veggie for dinner. She dropped the mail she was reading and got to the meal, and so I could write this pathetic line.

“So, nothing going on at the Wanna-Be-Bank & Truss Company?” said I.

Thinking she suddenly lit up, the juices were flowing I was in for it!

Well, the bank (Wanna-Be) has decided to make us add tag lines to our meeting with a member. Not only do we need to repeat the member’s name three times, we now also need to say: would you like to donate a coat, AND would you like E-statements?”

Being an intelligent man, ripe for conversation and articulate, I said:

“Oh?”

Realizing that she was in for an intelligent conversation, maybe more than she could handle TLW (The Little Woman) ventured forward anyway.

“Someone will come in, say they want to close their account because their account has been compromised, and I’m supposed to say: “Would like to donate a coat?”

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

“Really it is all so stupid!”

“Well with the warm weather we have been having for January, it is pretty lame!”

“That’s not all-the powers to be want us to push a checking account with every savings account we push! We are supposed to get 7.5 checking accounts for every 10 savings accounts!”

“I NEED ANOTHER DRINK!” (I was getting one anyway) “I can’t believe it! Do they punch you in the nose when you ask that? Besides, who owns a half of a checking account?”

“Oh, I could give them a checking account and they would never know it! I could get credit for it, but I try to be a moral person and do the right thing.”

“Well you did marry me, but still you keep on trying, Thats good! But here’s the thing, I’m a member too. You’ve been home almost an hour, and you haven’t addressed ME by my name once!”

“How do you pronounce it again?”

“Mr. Del Bloggolo.”

“Mr. Del Bloggolo?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Del Bloggolo, go shit in your hat.”

“That’s only twice but I’ll leave it at that. By the way, isn’t that your usual tag line for me?”

HAVING CONNECTIONS

2012-01-09T00:00:00.000-08:00

Since before the holidays, #2 Son has been home from school, and on occasion we will hear from him. He has established headquarters in his old room rent free, and has proven to have connections. Yes, he has connections. Me, I’m impressed and understand how important it is to have them.

But you must wonder, who does HE know? What connections could he possibly have at such a young age? Well, let me tell you, he knows me! Yes, that’s right, he knows me, and got the connections through his mother, who, by the way, knows me too.

The phone rings on morning-it’s TLW (The Little Woman) calling from the Wanna-Be-Bank & Truss Co.

Me: “Eee-Yellow?”

Toots I –“Hi, #2 called, and wants to know if you will drive him to the train station?”

“Isn’t #2 in his room right now, down the hall from me?”

“Yes, but he feels funny asking you to take him to the train station.”

“Why, does he owe me money?”

“No- just that he hates to bother you.”

“That’s silly, why should he feel that way?”

“He’s your son, ask him.”

“If I do that, do I need to call you to do that?”

“Will you take him?”

“Of course, all he had to do is ask – and if he owes me money pay it back.”

“Well will you tell him?”

“Of course-call him back and tell him -Yes”

“OK, but if the phone rings, don’t answer it.”

“Bye”

A few moments later the phone rings, it rings and rings some more. I yell-

“MIKE, ANSWER THE PHONE!”

And so goes life with #2 Son, TLW, and some blogs can write themselves.

IT’S BROOKLYN TIME!

2012-01-08T00:00:00.000-08:00

I’ve been seeing a lot of nostalgia lately as people use the Internet to reminisce about the simpler times in our lives, the fifties. If you lived through the fifties in Brooklyn, you know how wonderfully simple life was. There were things that could not translate in other parts of the world, and so I will lend you these.

The ‘Stoop.’

The word has finality to it. It was where three to four steps led up to the entrance to the apartment house. It was the place where you conducted Stoop Ball: a game where a Spaldeen (http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com) ball was used. Unlike the official sports of today, stoopball players have no ‘Hall of Fame’ just a lot of memories. The game was simple; you tossed it against the steps and caught it on a bounce, for 5 points. If you hit the corner, and it flew back to you on the fly, 100 points! The beauty of this game was you could play against yourself.

SKELZIES

Skelzies was a simple game where you kept all your bottle caps and used them in a game that required you to go through a series of chalk boxes drawn on a sidewalk. With your middle finger, you shot the soda or beer cap toward the boxes, before your opponent did. You worked the board until you reached the center squares. As many players as were available would play.

PUNCH BALL

Every kid played punch ball. Boy or girl, you were equal, no strength was required, just the ability to punch the ball and run to a base. No uniforms were required, no electronics, no uniforms, just a Spaldeen ball. http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com

STICK BALL

Look out Mamma, there goes your broom! Taking an old broomstick your mom had, sans the bristles, you taped one end with electrical tape and went to play. A simple Spaldeen ball http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com was put into play, and two sewers fly ball meant you were the next Duke Snider. First and third base were parked cars, as home plate and second were sewers. Most spaldeens were hit onto the roofs, and climbing those roofs and finding an old Spaldeen that had hardened from age saved many a game.

ROLLER SKATES

Not every kid owned a bike in Brooklyn, but most of us owned a pair of skates. Not the fancy leather laced tie on boot types, but the kid that fitted your shoes with a skate key. The sissies would wear the skate key on a string around their neck, but us real men about 6 to 13 years old kept it in his pocket. You would skate until the metal wheels wore out from the concrete.

Sometimes you needed comfort. So, instead of skates on shoes, we built skooters made from 2x4 and vegetable or fruit crates. Decorated with bottle caps, drawings and using skates, to move it along, we put one leg on the 2x4 and with the other foot we pushed on the ground to give us speed and motion.

HAND BALL

Find a wall tall enough free of obstructions and you had a game, mano a mano. You challenged your friend and it became a quasi tennis match, no racket, no net, just a wall, an opponent and a (you guessed it) Spaldeen Ball. http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com

KITES

Kites were special. We bought them from the candy or toy store for a quarter or less, and went out to either Callahan, Kelly Park or Highland Park and flew them in the early spring. Stealing rags or pillowcases, we attached tails to the end of the kit and flew till our hearts were contented. The kites came in thin envelopes that accommodated the two balsa wood sticks and the paper kite itself, or sail. A college graduate told this 7 year-old boy that the paper was not a kite, the whole assembled stick, and paper and tail was the kite.

THE HALLWAY

If it rained or was too cold, kids in Brooklyn hung around in the hallways and stairways of apartment houses. This was a legitimate playground since the rain and cold kept us inside. Kids in Brooklyn never took comfort unless they were with their friends and playmates. There was no such thing as a play date, and if you didn’t go out and play, your parents would kick you out, or send you to bed because they thought you were sick!

JUMP ROPE

A girl’s sport, you either jumped by yourself, or you jumped from a line of girls, you recited a chant and counted the number of times before you missed. You could do this better than any boy could, unless he was a boxer.

THE BEST THING OUT OF BROOKLYN

since the 50’s; http://spaldeendreams.blogspot.com

Read it you’ll like it! Also read: http://jpantaleno.blogspot.com/ both are written by a grumpy old guy that I love to read and try: http://lbeeler.blogspot.com/, by the Grumpy old man’s beautiful daughter who will make you laugh, but doesn’t write nearly enough for my taste.

LEAVE A TENDER MOMENT ALONE

2012-01-07T00:00:00.000-08:00

As the song goes.

I was busily scanning in old slides one evening, trying to save as much as possible from the ravages of years of sitting in storage. I plan to put them all on discs and distribute them to mostly my sibs.

Some of the old photos are lost forever, and I will never know what was on then, some are damaged and some only slightly damaged. Those I can salvage a great deal of and people will have to live with what is left.

Our honeymoon came back to life once again, I see a young TLW (The Little Woman) posing in front of places all over Europe, boy were we young, and she was gorgeous then too!

I saw two grandmothers marching in a parade. One was playing a clarinet and one was flinging a baton, but they were so young!

I saw the graduations and the confirmations and days long gone.

My kids were back to the early days, two little tykes sitting on my knees, giggling when I tried to make them laugh, and when they got older, staring into the camera, wondering what Daddy would do with the picture.

But there was one picture that put me into an odd perspective.

LEAVE A TENDER MOMENT ALONE

There is this picture of my Brother-in-law John, sharing a tender moment with his infant son, about 39 years ago. He is in an infant seat and smiling, and my brother-in-law is smiling back. Looking at the photo, I felt that somehow, even though I took the photo, even though it was so long ago, that I was intruding at the moment I was viewing the slide!

If you have old slides store somewhere, they don’t last forever, get them on a disk.

HAVE FUN

2012-01-06T00:00:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook recently. It is designed so I don't have to think to write of today, so read and try it, but most of all, enjoy it.

If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world!

After trying the verses, a Frenchman said he’d prefer six months of hard labor to reading six lines aloud.

Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it’s written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation’s OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Fe0ffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation (think of Psyche!)
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won’t it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It’s a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough,
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!!!

English Pronunciation by G. Nolst Trenité

HANDS DOWN, IT IS PAINFUL

2012-01-05T00:00:00.000-08:00

Every year right after the holidays, I pay the price for celebrating. Some people can eat and eat and never gain an ounce. To you, go to another blog, NOW!

I miss you Grandma!

I work hard to stay within this slim boy shape but it doesn’t want to cooperate. I figure I’m close enough to death now that I should relax, eat what I want and not worry, you have to go sometime. Why not with a great meal or snack, you never know when it is time. My Grandmother used to say: “Joe Joe, you too skinny, mangia!” I loved Grandma!

But I of course put those concepts aside as I feel guilty, and try to analyze what I ate and think it into a logic that says: “OK DelBloggolo, when was the last time you ate like that, and when will it happen again?” But it doesn’t work that way, no sireee! I suffer from what I call ‘memory calories’ those are the worst kind of calories to have! What they do is stay, they don’t dissipate like they are supposed to. You see most calories attach, and after a while get bored and go away, thus the dissipation. Not mine, they stay, raise a family and invite other people’s calories to stay too.

I have tried all kinds of ways to fight calories. For instance, a common chocolate chip cookie should contain 60 calories. If you break the cookie in half, you now have two small cookies, and only 30 calories each. This should have a lesser shock upon your system, thus the calories should not take hold, these are broken calories, these calories shouldn’t work! I try to eat snacks standing or even walking if possible, this strategy should allow for burning of calories, (you may try this if you like, no need to thank me) so the calorie intake is minimized.

"Don't do that!"

I have to go to my doctor next month, he will get mad at me for gaining a few pounds (He feels he needs all the patients he can get so they can wait in his office for him to come in, an hour later than planned and talk politics. Then he can build his vacation coffers.) Meanwhile I noticed lately that he’s been building a little padding himself!

Then comes the salt attack, the tradition breaking salt attack.

You must be wondering what that is.

Every year, in the hood, we all get together with permission from our probation officers and celebrate the New Year. We gather at our neighbor Carol’s home and bring something, either an appetizer or dessert, depending which side of the street you live on. We talk about the past year, show off our post office photos and eat Chinese food. Well, I love Asian cuisine, and there is a high salt content in it. It all goes to my hands that swell up and hurt. It takes a couple of days for it to go away. I could discuss it with my doctor, but he is the guy that said to me once when I said I couldn’t lift my arm over my head: “then don’t do that.”

NEW YEAR – OLD MEMORIES

2012-01-04T00:00:00.000-08:00

Recently I purchased a scanner to do 35 mm. slides. Slides that date back to the 60’s, covering things like parades, artwork, family and friends. Scanning in these old memories remind me of how simple life was back then, yet so complicated. I wanted to put everything on DVD before they completely fade away and I lose them.

There are few pictures that I own of myself since I was always behind the camera. The camera was complicated; it had a thing called film, Ektachrome, Kodachrome and Tri-X, depending on what you were shooting. Being how photography was part of my major, a great deal of time and money went into learning about it. You owned a light meter, tripod and even developing equipment, all part of the package.

A young skinny kid

My first job out of college landed me in Manhattan. Working for Lawrence G. Chait & Co., my first accounts were American Airlines, Lufthansa Airlines and P.H. Harnischfeger, an earth moving equipment-building company. Boy was I excited! Sitting way up on the top floor of a skyscraper, corner office, (they loved me) and fancy lunches and dinners sometimes on the same day! My days were filled with being happy I was finished with college, the long harrowing experiences of getting to school, paying for it and attending classes, sometimes so hungry, I had headaches, but needing every penny to pay my way through. Not only tuition, but books, art supplies and photo equipment as well as train fare needed to be paid for. Dad had no money to give me, I had to do this all myself. So I went to work in my Dad’s plant and at night in Hill’s supermarket when the chance was available, and floated a school loan for the rest.

Some hot babe!

There were a lot of young ladies there, when I entered the new job, and being single and unattached, it was a wonderful hunting ground for a young guy to meet girls, or ladies as I started to call them. My boss was a great guy who let me fly by myself, meeting clients and making decisions. I bought my first car, and brand new Chevy Camaro, with bucket seats and all the things that made me feel cool.

Riding the trains to and from work, I met even more girls, and that is where I met TLW (The Little Woman)! But life was more than just girls and cars and work, it was freedom, and I was looking to find an apartment in Queens or Manhattan, to assert my independence further, and move out of my parent’s house. I was reading the apartments to let section of the NY Times and had circled a few places I would visit that weekend when I met this lady on the train that I took an interest in. For some reason, I decided to hold off after I made a date with her. I never looked at apartments!

My first paying freelance!

Of course there were other slides that I found, like my first paying job for someone. A children’s clothing company paid me a handsome fee to illustrate the store itself with a mural. I found old painting I did and tons of things that I forgot all about, but now the memories are flooding back. Enough so that I have a few blog to write!

GYU-KAKU

2012-01-03T00:00:00.000-08:00

Or ‘Happy Birthday’ #2 Son! On December 29^th, as is the family tradition, we take #2 Son into Manhattan for his birthday.

This past birthday he wanted to go to the Museum of Natural History to see if he has any claim to cave man. This is at my suggestion since I got a view of his room one day while the door was open.

The place is huge, with long lines waiting to get in and once in, some of the patrons should be in the exhibits! Artifacts, carvings, tools and utensils are all part of the exhibits, as are life-like figures showing off ALL their stuff, if you know what I mean, both female and male, and rocks, lots and lots of rocks.

On top of the museum, #2 wanted to bring his girl-friend, a lovely young woman named Kelly AND he wanted to visit a Japanese restaurant in the heart of Manhattan on Third Avenue and 50^th Street called: GYU-KAKU, which is Japanese for ‘Cook it yourself and leave me alone’.

First they make you wait a long time and then they come and get you, sit you in very cozy seating that lends a lot of privacy and intimacy. The kicker is the hibachi that sits in the middle of the table. This follows a long history of traditional Japanese culinary innovation. There was Sushi, the raw fish experience, Benihana’s sitting at the table and being entertained while the chef did an outstanding act of knife and spatula flinging while he cooked your food, and now, the GYU-KAKU, the ‘Cook it yourself and leave me alone’ culinary experience for people who have cash they would like to cook.

You select what you wish to eat, they bring it out raw, and YOU have to cook it! The waitress puts the food down and says: “2 minutes each side” or “ no more than 45 seconds each side” and so it goes, depending on what you order. I’m thinking; “And we tip her for what?”

Sitting with #1 AND #2 Sons, TLW (The Little Woman) and the lovely Kelly, I don’t stand a chance. They all put their stuff on the hibachi and I’m left standing in the cold. THERE IS NO ROOM FOR ME! I try to push something over a little and TLW elbows me away, I try again from another angle and #! Son fends off my attempt with his tongs. I’m sitting on the end of a bench that holds two people comfortably, but I’m #3, and I’m sliding off the end, no place to put my hat and I’m sitting on my coat, the zipper biting my tukus!

I think the next Japanese experience for me will be Hari-kari.

THE HOOD...AGAIN

2012-01-02T00:00:00.000-08:00

Don't ask!

They were hanging on about 11:30, but just barely. Watching Dick Clark and Brian Seacrest (or is that Seabiscuit?) on the tellie. Some were in a near catatonic state from watching Dick Clark, some were just talking, and there was one sicko with a wig on.

Bill my neighbor’s son (BNS): “Joe remember that wig from the labor Day party?”

“Wig! What wig???”

“Oh you know, the one you wore and I took a picture?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I also have a picture of you wearing balloons under your shirt.”

“Oh God!”

“Yeah, and there are even more of you doing funny stuff on the slide show!”

“Oh please God, take me now!”

“Yup, I think you were trying to act like Madonna”

"No, those were balloons,NOT cones!"

Apparently my neighbor has a large archive of photos of me at different Hood events where I tried to disguise myself for obvious reasons. TLW (The Little Woman) had suggested that I do that since we go as a couple. This way if people remark about what a nut I am, she can agree with them without having to admit she married me.

A rather large slide show was in progress, and every so often I would appear in it, and when I did, I wondered why I didn’t stay home, or at least beg for mercy.

THE SKY IS FALLING!

It was earlier that morning, and TLW (The Little Woman) was on her game.

“Joe, can you do me a favor and go to the store for me?”

“Sure.”

“Joe-can you read this?” Handing me a long list of handwritten items for the grocery store. Reading out loud for her, I actually go through the list without running to the pharmacist to read it to me!

Off she goes to work and off I go to the store. Finding items for TLW in the store is like looking for needles in a haystack, good luck!

I start out and enter the early morning Stop and Shop and select the easy ones first. One at a time I am going through the items and starting to get very nervous. Perspiration is dripping from my forehead and my arm pits are starting to create friction. I am getting everything on the list and now my legs are growing weak!

People are looking at me and wondering what’s wrong, the store manager is circling me wondering what’s wrong. As for me, I am starting to think the ceiling is about to collapse, in fact I’m sure it will. I AM FINDING EVERYTHING! No substitutes, no ‘not sure’ items, nothing but what she asked for!

And so, for the first time in our married life, I got everything on a list with three items or more! Mom would be proud of me.

I bring the stuff home and TLW arrives later in the day.

“Did you get everything?”

“Yup!”

Everything?”

“Ditto yup!”

“Did you get me an 8 ounce container of sour cream or a 16 ounce, the container looks kind of different from what I usually use.”

My world was quickly shattering, my joy put asunder. “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” Whoever wrote that hadn’t met TLW yet. Immediately I refer to my hand written list.

‘YOU WROTE-8 ounce container!”

“Oh, I know, it IS my fault, I should have written 16 ounces.”

And there you have it, I manage to get it right and someone else screws it up for me!

WHAT HAPPENED!?

2012-01-01T00:00:00.000-08:00

To 2011? I recall being able to final master writing 2011 on my checks! Now I have to learn all over again.

I hope you all have a very happy and prosperous new year. I know that some of us will visit tragedy, some of us will be heart-broken, and some of us will be untouched. It is all part of the human condition. I hope you all go untouched.

Another year begins and I have to think about what I will do this year. What new adventure will I unearth or give a shot. #1 Son and my beautiful daughter-in-law Courtney hopefully will be in there new home soon. #2 Son will make us proud as he finishes up school, and my daughter Ellen will remain healthy. My deepest hope and concern is TLW that she remains healthy and happy. We have shared many New Years days together, and I am excited to spend this one too. Over the past 41 or so, many things have happened, both good and bad, and my assessment of it all with TLW is that I am the luckiest man alive to have her in my life. Sometimes I take her for granted a little, then something happens and I realize how blessed I truly am. Thanks Toots! As for me: what will be will be.

I have a number of projects under way and hopefully will complete most of them. I will be taking out the pen and the brush, and doing what I love most, creating. I can’t ask for more than that.

This blog will be more day by day and spontaneous, as I have found that doing too many in advance is not to my liking so much, and therefore I am wishing I had been a little more current.

I will continue to laugh at myself, and tease TLW and have a good time with it, as I will tease you guys too. You have all been very gracious when I do and I am grateful to you for your sense of humor.

I wish to thank you for all your loyalty and those of you who comment; please do more, and to you that don’t, please do.

So, stay healthy please. Don’t stop reading and let me have it once in a while: I love to hear from you. If you notice I don’t or rarely comment back, so whatever you say will NOT be edited as you can’t edit what I write. Remember this is mostly to be fun and occasionally a point of view.

Thank you so much, and Happy New Year, I love you all.

END OF THE OLD YEAR!

2011-12-31T00:00:00.000-08:00

It seems like yesterday that I wrote about the end of 2010! The year 2011 has been very eventful, and in many ways rewarding.

First of all, #1 Son made a great choice and decided to marry a great gal, Courtney is her name, if you hadn’t heard from me. She is the culmination of a great year for my little family and me.

#1 Son, (Anthony) is writing for the Big Bang Theory on TV, and is currently looking for a house to buy. How great is that?

My #2 Son (Mike) as he likes to be called, but we at home call him Michael, is soon to be finishing up college and heading out to make his own life. That is what life is all about.

My beautiful daughter Ellen is doing very well physically and for that I am grateful, happy and blessed.

Then there is TLW (The Little Woman), Ellen, my wonderful wife for over 40 years! She has remained beautiful, caring, loving and makes me very happy and I am proud of her. I don’t know how I managed to marry such a great gal! Thank you sweetie.

So life has been good for 2011, Mom is doing well, and my beautiful sisters manage to live their
lives with me as their brother, but they do it gracefully. I have about a million nephews and nieces, and new addition in Aubrey Schneider, who joined the world this year and is gorgeous, just like her great uncle, only prettier!

My wife’s family continues do well, and we see them from time to time, and I hope they all remain healthy, and prosper.

And then I have a great gift in your friendship, your readership and am finding new friends all over the world! Over 700 read this blog, in the USA, Canada, England, Germany, Russia, South Africa, The Netherlands, India and Australia! WOW!

My hope for 2012 is that all the countries in this world will be at peace. That the children of this world will not suffer, that no one goes to bed hungry, and that the politicians and leaders of this world understand it is not about them, but about the people who inhabit this world. Children should be our priority and focus, making this world a place of peace and prosperity. If no one is in need, then no one needs to fight. Let’s share this earth.

2012 promises to be interesting, since I have no idea what will happen, and what will I say about that? Please remember that what I write is for the most part amusement and fun. I like to poke fun at myself first and everybody else. Why? Because we live in a world where we are too quick to judge others and not ourselves, both individually and collectively.

I hope you will continue to read this space. My biggest wish is for you to comment, and put it on the table, and take a few shots at me.

Friendship is the most important element one can have in this world of coldness and sometimes brutality. Emotions get in the way and we say things we really don’t mean. I have tried to value every friendship I ever owned, including family, neighbors, old acquaintances and new ones too. Maybe the casual ones can grow into lasting ones.

To all of you: Have a healthy, happy and prosperous new year. May it be filled with only peace and happiness, and may your house be blessed with friends to visit you, care about you, and do for you, and it be filled with love.

I love you all.

SANTA GETS IT

2011-12-30T00:00:00.000-08:00

It was a week and a half before Christmas Day, and my first of two nights to play Santa. My trip this evening was to a home for residents with developmental disabilities, about 8 to 10 people, all adults and in all types of physical crises.

I stand outside the door and ring a strap of little bells and someone opens the door and lets me enter.

“HOHOHO!”

“Santa is here! EVERYBODY, SANTA IS HERE!”

I enter and the house parent greets me with a camera flash, I’m blinded!

“SANTA, you know that last week you didn’t take a picture of Debbie on your lap! You must have been very busy and forgot! Debbie felt very bad.”

Feeling like a heel, I sheepishly enter seeking out Debbie. Debbie is a short white haired lady, one of the multitudes of forgotten people in our large world.

I realize that I am Santa Clause, so I am paying for some other Santa’s mistake. I just hope he didn’t rob a bank, too.

I take Debbie by the hand and escort her to the room where I will be distributing presents to the residents. Some of the residents are already giving me a rundown as to what they want, and some will not leave me, a look of hero worship in their eyes.

Debbie has a large smile on her face, being escorted by Santa, she feels special.

You know you don’t get opportunities to help people feel good often. Sometimes opportunity knocks but you don’t answer. Sometimes you knock and people slam the door in your face. Working for people with disabilities is the greatest of opportunities, because there is no reward for you except what Debbie felt those few moments with Santa. It is a great feeling!

EERIE IS EERIE

2011-12-29T00:00:00.000-08:00

Right before Christmas, TLW (The Little Woman) and I go to the cemetery and visit the graves of our son Joseph, my dad and TLW’s parents. We buy blankets made from pine or firs, and they are decorated minimally.

This year we went as usual and after visiting the grave of my son we went over to my in-laws and since we are the only ones who live in the area, we are the only ones who visit. This year we found a small Christmas tree on the double grave! This surprised us and we wondered who could have done this?

At my father’s grave there was a greater shock. As we arrived to place a blanket on his grave, there on the ground were not one, but two blankets. I immediately thought of my older sister Tess (much older) and her daughter Laurie Ann, or maybe my other sisters. But one sister has a husband buried near-by and there was nothing on his grave yet, the other sister was in China at the time. No one seems to know anything about the blankets! Not Tess, not her daughter, no one!

Although it feels eerie to be greeted like we were, I am glad that someone remembered my Dad.

YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT

2011-12-28T00:00:00.000-08:00

I haven’t been myself lately! No, I’m just not me, I’m a shell of my former self!

Many years ago, when TLW (The Little Woman) still loved me, I used to get foods that I love, dishes like French Onion Soup, where we were both introduced to it in Paris, and one of my all time favorites: baked macaroni. Then one day she introduced the three cheese baked macaroni, I went crazy for it and from that day onward, I never saw it again!

The years have been cruel to me. No French Onion Soup and no three cheese baked macaroni.Whatever she likes, I make, but some stinker had to mention that cheese is not good for you, so she doesn’t make baked macaroni anymore.

But then you must ask: “What about pizza, brother Joe, that’s got cheese!”

Yes, it does, and I have to eat it every Friday night, but NO, and I mean NO baked macaroni, no French Onion Soup, NO NOTHING!

You stand in front of a camera, and what do you say? You say ‘Cheese’. Not ‘low-fat cheese’ no, you don’t. I bet if #1 or #2 Son said: “Mom, I love baked macaroni, with three cheeses!” the kid would get it three times a day for seven days.

I bet her second husband will like cheese and gets it.

Now you might ask: “How come you don’t make it yourself?”

“Oh, I could make it myself, but it wouldn’t be made by the woman who used to love me so many years ago! It’s just not the same.

Often at night I take walks around supper-time, and can hear the happy voices of husbands as they thank their wives for baked macaroni or French Onion Soup, and I think back to those golden olden days, when life was good.

WHAT IN THE NAME OF SELMA SALOWAY!

2011-12-27T00:00:00.000-08:00

Bellport at the height of Rush Hour

On Friday nights, while in High School, Ernie ‘Butch’ Mancuso and I would meet at his house, all slicked up and ready to go. Where to was always the question. We would play the latest 45’s and talk about classmates and then off to Patchogue we would head. We usually caught a ride from someone, or else we hitched it into the big town. Coming from a small town like Bellport, the only thing going on was stoplight on the 4 corners. It did change into two different colors, so we would bet on what the next color was going to be. Sometimes we won and sometimes we lost.

Holiday traffic during rush hour

But going to Bellport High School was an experience. There was the Boy’s Room Choir, Miss. Auchtolooney, the Biology teacher from Hell and Scotland, Miss Wagar the school nurse, Mrs. Keiller the librarian and our favorite: Mr. Gabrellian, the social studies teacher.

Miss Auchtoloonie was an exchange teacher from Scotland, and when she was finished with us as students, fled back to Scotland where she must have joined an Anti-American cabal. She had a high rate of student punishment. It seems whenever one of us was caught talking or not doing what she wished, she sent us off to the library for punishment! Soon you could find the 3^rd period Biology class gathered in the library, happily chatting away, with Mrs. Keiller trying to maintain quiet and discipline. There was a song out then called ‘Tequila.’ Whenever the old girl went by, under our breath we would exaggerate: “Tequila!”

Miss Wagar was an elderly woman, slight and grey, and it seems we as students made her greyer yet. If anything, she probably loved kids but was very strict about the rules. One day my buddy Rich Scaretta was in a gym mishap, and flew off the ropes we were swinging on. He went flying off the rope at its height and slammed into the concrete block wall. We all watched in amazement as he literally slid down the wall with a lump on his forehead. The coach immediately took concern and told me to take him down to the nurse. Miss Wagar asks him how he felt and what happened. Rich says he was tired and let loose of the ropes by accident. She looks at Rich and says: “Did you have breakfast this morning?” He replies: “No.” She says: “What would happen if I didn’t put gas in my car, how would I get to school?” she inquired. Rich looked up at her, in all sincerity and said: “You’d take a bus?”

In the course of all this was an emotional gentleman who loved to teach. He was a teacher’s teacher, but he had one flaw. He cried easily, and with that had a rather large proboscis. This was the famous Mr. Gabrelian or Gabe or God forgive us all: “The Beak”. Once during a PTA meeting at the high school, a set of parents came up to a few students who were standing in the hall and asked; “Can you direct us to Mr. Beaks classroom?” Without forethought they did, and hung around for the intro’s.

But the boys’ population started with your name and led the charge to insanity or should I say your mother’s name? What I mean is you were called by your mother’s name, if you were one of the guys. Picture a 6’5” bruiser named Mary! Now picture him responding to your calling him that, civil like, followed up by his calling you by YOUR mother’s name, if you are a guy.

For four years they tried to get out of me my mother’s real name, but couldn’t. It is such an odd name that I had to hide it. Someone went into the phone book and found my Aunt’s name, which was Tessie. They called me Tessie, but it was a lot better than what they could have called me.

P.S. Selma Saloway was an inside joke between me and Ernie Mancuso!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIG BROTHER!

2011-12-26T00:00:00.000-08:00

He’s the youngest of 4 brothers. Never really knew his Mom, but was raised by his father. From what I hear, his dad was a hard working immigrant from Poland. His Dad set the table for his children to know the value of hard work, a clean and wholesome life, and having only met three of the brothers, they were gentleman.

John, married my sister. If I were to select a husband for my sister, he would be the man. He is kind, loving, worked hard and has brains. He is in his early 70’s now, but when I met him some 48 years ago, he moved into all our hearts and minds, we all love him. He has been living in our hearts and minds ever since, rent free.

Sometimes he has his days, when he is crotchety, cantankerous and darn right ornery, and then he has bad days too!

Last year I wrote about John: Sunday, December 26, 2010. I did a lot of teasing him, and of course, the gentleman his is, I am still alive.

I never had a big brother growing up, but I do have one now.

But my big brother is in trouble, he is battling an insidious disease, and he could use your prayers, he doesn’t deserve the pain, or the agony. Cancer affects more than just the victim suffering from it: it affects the whole family. There are various kinds of cancer, and some can be beaten, but we never know. He will fight, and he will be gracious and accept what he has to accept. THE LINGERING QUESTION IS CAN I?

I worry about my sister, and her children and grandchildren, their dad and granddad is under siege, and so are they.

His life has been good, but has also experienced tragedy. In the good times he is gracious, in the bad times he was always concerned about the comfort levels of others. He is a good man. He has many friends, and most go back many years. If you needed help, he came running, never asked for anything but maybe a scotch.

Today is his birthday. Usually he goes out and buys everyone in his family a present. He’s been doing this since he was married with children. This is the kind of guy I am asking you to pray for.

Thank you.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

2011-12-25T00:00:00.000-08:00

Today is a day of peace and love, joy and giving. It is a day that is filled with such wonderful memories of Christmases long ago and recent.

Many years ago, as a child I looked at Christmas with trepidation since Santa was always watching me my mother told me. I would pray to the Baby Jesus to intercede for me with Santa, until one day my teacher; Miss Goodsight (yes, an old maid) told me that Christmas was Jesus’ birthday, that Santa was only a tag-a-long. This took me by surprise since I was worried about the wrong guy all along!

Mom kept harping on Santa watching and knowing what I did when I did it, and he was keeping a list. Mom was lying! My mother was lying to me; her only son was being fed untruths!

“Mom, Miss Goodsight (The old maid) told me that Christmas is really about Jesus, not Santa! I thought you said that Santa watched to see who was bad?”

“Yes, Santa makes the list and keeps track, and tells Jesus. Actually, Christmas is NOT about presents, it is about giving, and GOING TO CHURCH!”

I ended the conversation real quick, I was NOT going to go to church ALL DAY!

Of course, I still use Christmas as the real name of the holiday; I don’t think I need to be politically correct. In fact, no one is asking to rename Chanukah because it is insensitive to Christians. (ACLU where are you?)

Still Beautiful

To TLW (The Little Woman), thank you for all you are to me. I know there is no one that could make me happier than you can. I wish I could make you as happy. Thank you for your love, your help, and the wonderful times we’ve had. Thank you for being there when we needed each other, never once have you called me anything but by my name, and most of all, thank you for all our children, they are ours, and we can love them forever-together.

To all you wonderful readers-MERRY CHRISTMAS, enjoy your family; enjoy the day for what it really is, both a religious day of love and joy, and peace and goodwill to all of us. My present is the need to write to you each day, and to read your occasional comments. For me that is a one-way street. Thank you all, I love you.

If there is one thing I would wish for, that would be that Christian or Jew, Islamic or whatever is floating your boat, that we can enjoy everyday in peace and harmony, that the children of the world be safe from all and any harm in the world.

Joe

SHARING

2011-12-24T00:00:00.000-08:00

For over 40 years now, TLW (The Little Woman) and I have been sharing things with each other. The other morning went something like this:

“Morning Toots, I think I got your cold!”

“I don’t HAVE a cold!

“I know, I’m going to give you this one.”

Sometimes these things can’t be helped. It was two weeks after that she did get the cold, and she was quick to acknowledge it to me.

“I feel lousy!”

Me: “Oh, what’s wrong?” (Like I didn’t know.)

“I got YOUR cold!” she said coldly.

“Now what makes you say you got MY cold, you may have gotten it from one of your co-workers! Didn’t you mention that Morticia was hacking all weekend? And what about Mortidella, she was running after her nose from what I hear.”

“Noooooo – I got YOUR cold.”

I recall years ago with two young children in schools, getting everything they caught from their little friends. My daughter particularly would share her illnesses with me. I was always playing with her, trying to amuse her or squeezing and kissing her to try to get her to be responsive. Then there was #1 Son. He and I were always handling a ball, a smurf basketball or football so we could play in the living room, and so, his cold was my cold.

Then at the holidays, the dreaded stomach virus appeared, right after Santa at the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. The kids got sick, then I did! Such sharing you wouldn’t believe! Usually two days before Christmas Day, I couldn’t move, eat or doing anything but feel the sick stomach as I watched TLW and the blessed little tykes frollicking around the house, filled with energy, Christmas cookies and the holiday spirit.

Actually, the sharing started when one day not long after our honeymoon she said:

“I think we’re pregnant!”

Many is the time when we go to dinner or even at home, and she can’t finish what’s in her plate, she cuts off what she can’t eat and places it in my plate.

“I can’t finish this Joe, here, you have it.”

Being a good husband, I try not to argue, because you can lose points that way.

But then, after I finish it I start to wonder:

1) Why am I gaining weight while she doesn’t, we eat the same things

B) Would she be willing to share my calories?

I just thought I’d share this with you

I'M ALWAYS IN THE DARK

2011-12-23T00:00:00.000-08:00

I was finishing up my telephone call with Mom, who said: "And everyone is OK at home?"

"Yes Ma..." when suddenly the lights started to flicker in the late afternoon gloom. The phone line was static and the TV was gone. I was alone in this world, life would be different for however long it would take to see the light of day(?)

I thought to myself that maybe someone had hit a phone or power pole. Since it was already getting dark, I gathered two candles and placed them in the den, and found a newspaper to read by the candlelight. With 2 candles burning, it was becoming a religious experience. Fortunately, no one was around to deliver a sermon. I knew that if that had happened, I'd want breakfast too. It would really screw up my day.

Grabbing my cell phone, I called the Little Woman (TLW) to advise her about the phone situation (She planned to call me later). I call the Wanna-Be Bank & Truss Co.

“Wanna-Be Bank & Truss Company, Morticia speaking, how may I help you?”

“Uh, Hi Morticia, this is Joe Del Bloggolo may I speak with TLW?”

“ I’m sorry, she’s away from her desk! I’ll try to find her.”

“No Morticia, could I just leave a message? Just tell her we have no electricity or phone.”

There is a long pause, then Morticia comes alive.

“Are you on your cell phone?”

It makes me proud to know that the Wanna-Be Bank and Truss Company has someone like Morticia in the wings waiting to take over for the CEO!

FOR A GOOD GUY

2011-12-22T00:00:00.000-08:00

I make jokes about Mom being 93 and having a “Boy toy”, but in reality, it is a wonderful thing called friendship they share. To me friendship is the essence of life. True friendship means that someone is connected to you, will protect you and expects you to protect them.

I have had the best friend (Phil), a guy could have outside of his wife and mother, so I am blessed, we don’t think about what we did for each other, because we are too busy doing for one another.

Henry, Mom’s friend, is just that, a good person who cares for others, not himself so much. He has quietly become part of our family and as such we all love him. He has taken my mother to countless doctor appointments, helped her get around, and protects her privacy. He always worries about how she is feeling and tries to think along the lines of her self-pride, what she will tolerate and what she will not.

Since he is so kind and we are so appreciative, I decided to go to the local Italian market and with money some of my sisters have chipped in get him a gift. We are buying Henry for Christmas $200 worth of meals that they can share. The meals will be individually wrapped and all they have to do is unfreeze them and microwave. They can then just cut them in half and eat. This comes in handy when they are tired from a visit to a doctor’s office at the end of the day.

In this stinking world, we need to take care of each other. We need to know when someone is alone that they may need help, which we can’t always think about ourselves. Henry lives alone, he has no family, so when he goes to the hospital, we go and visit. He comes to all our family get-togethers, and is expected. We do this for all those we call our friends, all those we trust and come to love.

There are people in this world that can’t accept that kind of friendship. Maybe they think there is some underlying motive, or some kind of obligation, or maybe they just can’t appreciate that love from friendship should hold no bounds or requirements other than to accept. For them, they usually die alone, abandoned by all, children, parents and friends. They see only for themselves, too bad.

REGIS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING!

2011-12-21T00:00:00.000-08:00

It has been brought to my attention that Regis Philbin has left the show! An iconic figure, not to mention a case in ineptitude will no longer grace our TV screens.

So the quest to replace this giant of daytime TV is in the works.

It will be hard to replace Regis; first of all he has no talents, listens too much to women and is always defending himself. Where can you find someone like that?

I Know!

Me!!!

Yes I am a no-talent, inept, listener of women, who is always defending himself. I even have a niece who looks like Kelly Ripa! Kelly is sick one day, doesn’t want to come in, my niece covers for her, and no one knows!

Of course when it comes to stories, I have a bunch, can relate to all kinds of things that may go wrong. Taking Regis place my wife will have something additional for me to do during the day.

Kelly or Katie?

My ineptitude is legendary. I even have a Christmas story I can tell about an apartment I shouldn’t have been in. Then there was the time I skidded across Lake Weeki Wachee in Florida, and came face-to-face with a crocodile or alligator. I was too scared to tell the difference, it just looked like a hungry pair of expensive shoes! Of course if the world needs more, there is the time at the Delaware water gap and my ride to oblivion in a rubber tube. Once I got mixed up with an old neighbor and the church organist in Home Depot, and suddenly TLW (The Little Woman) kept her distance from me as we exited the store! The list goes on, but who’s counting?

I know I can drink coffee and listen: I am very ambidextrous that way, and I can definitely cut articles out of newspapers to make a point. I can give a good accounting of my weekend, and have plenty of children stories the blog hasn’t even heard of yet. There are my adventures on vacations that start in Paris and the room service, and continue right up to my last vacation.

A lot of the tight spots my Dad used to get himself into before he passed on, I have inherited, and hope when I’m gone to pass them on to #’s 1 and 2 sons. Well, the show MUST go on.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BROTHER-IN-LAW TOM!
I will try to remember all the words to the Polish ditty: 'Buy me a pork chop'! Katie is Tom's daughter!

Try my new aports blog: http:www.joenellen.blogspot.com/

IT GETS LONGER EVERY YEAR!

2011-12-20T00:00:00.000-08:00

Recently, I sat down to write my Christmas cards, and ‘Holiday Greetings’ to my non-Christian friends, it is a big job now!

Writing cards used to be easy, TLW (The Little Woman) did them. Now this chore has been trusted upon me, and takes out a half of a day. I can be forgetful, distracted and hungry, and when that happens things occur. I can send the wrong card in the wrong envelope, or I misspell a name that I am known to do. (Right Michele? Or is that Michelle?) I wish she’d make up her mind. I know Carol, or is that Carole has an issue too. Fortunately Elen doesn’t have that problem.

This year as in the last few, we had our cards printed with our names, and added our return address on the envelopes. (Well pardon me!) So what I do is buy labels and put on the addresses that I am sending to. Then I get the cards, address labels and write something clever like Happy New Year too! I of course put the Dear Whoever in my hand, and hope to not put the card in the wrong envelope.

I’ve decided that the whole process, by the time I’m done spitting on the flap to be too long. I need help. What you can do Dear Reader is send me an insulting email that will force me to exclude you from my list. I can even give you a sample email on what to write. This will help you also, since I won’t be sending you a card, no need to send me one.

Oh course you can just not end a card, and that would save me the trouble of telling you what to write. If this is too late, just try to keep it in mind for next year.

One other issue on my plate.

Recently I got an email from my buddy Ken Geiger (Mr. Geiger I presume) about something of interest that we can all be part of.

Subject: Fwd: Christmas Cards (Reminder) A GREAT IDEA!

CHRISTIANS EVERYWHERE:

What a clever idea! Yes, Christmas cards. This is coming early so that you can get ready to include an important address to your list.

Want to have some fun this CHRISTMAS?

Send the ACLU a CHRISTMAS CARD this year.

As they are working so very hard to get rid of the CHRISTMAS part of this holiday, we should all send them a nice, card to brighten up their dark, sad, little world. Make sure it says "Merry Christmas" on it.

Here's the address, just don't be rude or crude:

ACLU
125 Broad Street, 18th Floor
New York, NY 10004

Two tons of Christmas cards would freeze their operations because they wouldn't know if any were regular mail containing contributions. So spend 44 cents and tell the ACLU to leave Christmas alone. Also tell them that there is no such thing as a " Holiday Tree". It's always been called a CHRISTMAS TREE!

And pass this on to your email lists. We really want to communicate with the ACLU! They really DESERVE us!!

For those of you who aren't aware of them, the ACLU, (the American Civil Liberties Union) is the one suing the U.S. Government to take God, Christmas or anything religious away from us. They represent the atheists and others in this war. Help put Christ back in Christmas!

** Suggestion: Pass this on to your church, co-workers, family, and friends. What do you have to lose but 44 cents, what do you have to gain --- more than you may ever know possible.

Thanks Ken!

MY PHARMACY LIES

2011-12-19T00:00:00.000-08:00

Every three months I go to the doctor to renew my prescriptions. This is a simple task, three 30-day supplies where I phone in the last two renewals. Simple, no?

No.

I’m dealing with people from another planet when it comes to my pharmacy.

As I pack my weekly supply in my pill container, I notice that the pharmacy didn’t give me enough pills for the 30 days needed. I’m supposed to take 3 pills a day so that means 90 pills. I look in the bottle and it seems like very little, so I check the label. 45 pills! I pick up the phone.

“Thank you for calling Friendly Drugs. If you are a physician calling in a prescription, press 1. If you wish to speak with a pharmacist, press 2. If you wish to fill a prescription, press 3. If you are lonely and just wish to talk press 4.”

I press 3 and get this gentleman on the phone.

“Give me your phone number please.” I do that and he says: “How may I help you?”

“My prescription for Metoprolol is short by half!”

“That’s what the prescription says.”

“Well, I should have had twice as many, not half.”

“Hang on while I check it out, please.”

A young lady comes to the phone.

“Give me your phone number please.” I do that and she says: “How may I help you?”

“My prescription for Metoprolol is short by half!”

“That’s what the prescription says.”

“Well, I should have had twice as many, not half.”

“Hang on while I check it out, please.” Returning she says:

“You still there?”

“Barely.”

“Yes, I see that we should have given you 90 and we shorted you.”

“Do I get the pills?”

“Do you want them?”

“It WOULD be nice.”

“OK, I’ll have them ready for you, just take your time getting here, and when you do, they will be ready.”

Two different people tell me something that was not true!

WHEN DOES THIS ‘STUFF’ END?

2011-12-18T00:00:00.000-08:00

The other day, TLW (The Little Woman) was home from work, her occasional Monday she gets. On the counter were some cans and packages for the ingredients for Tacos.

“Oh! We having tacos tonight?”

“Joe, don’t touch that stuff, and don’t touch this stuff’, gesturing as she opened the refrigerator door, and then pointed to the vegetable drawer and said: “and the stuff in the drawer here. All that stuff is for my Christmas luncheon at the Wanna-Be Bank and Truss Co.!”

Being how I was tired of being bossed around, I put my foot down and said: “OK”. (Good thing she didn’t pursue it further or I would have REALLY told her off!)

As I walked away, I noticed a box, about 4” x 6” with lollypops in it, and on the kitchen table were bags and packages for her little heathens for Christmas as she teaches every Wednesday night about God. More stuff.

TLW was busily shuffling enough papers to make the FBI nervous and, more files to make the IRS jealous, again for her little heathens! More stuff.

Stuff is good, it comes in all forms, big, small, important and sometimes called; “Mine”. Everyone should have ‘stuff’; it means we have carved out a niche in the world. I don’t have stuff. I am stuffless, I own no stuff. Oh, I have things, but no stuff.

Just as well, since I’m looking for the “Right stuff” anyway.

WHEN WE SAY: “THANK YOU”, WE MEAN IT!

2011-12-17T00:00:00.000-08:00

I got in touch with my sibs recently to discuss getting a Christmas gift for my mother, and her boy toy. All joking aside, Henry has been just a wonderful find, keeps a 93 year old company, they share meals at night, and he takes excellent care of Mom. When she doesn’t feel well, Henry cooks for her.

We came up with the idea that we would buy my Mom’s cell phone service for one more year, and for Henry, we thought we’d get him a special gift too. We decided to purchase $200 worth of separate meals from an Italian marketplace where we live. Each meal will be individually wrapped and frozen, and each meal is enough for the two of them to share. They don’t feel like cooking one night? Easy, just pull out a meal and pop it in the microwave and they are done!

So off I go to Mom and sit down with her and ask what Henry’s favorite foods are, and what to avoid.

I ring the doorbell and after a few minutes, she answers, wearing a patch on her right eye. She had mentioned to me days before about it, so I knew what to expect when I saw her.

“Come in, come in!”

“Hi Ma, is Henry here?”

“No, we can talk. Go sit down.”

“OK Ma, here is the menu, let’s go over things and see what we can order him.”

“Now what’s this for, his birthday?”

“Ma, when is his birthday?”

“April.”

“Ma, this is for Christmas, me and some of the girls thought it would be a good idea to give Henry something nice and thoughtful for all he does for you.”

“That’s nice! You notice anything different?”

Pretending not to notice, I say “New curtains?”

“You know Joseph (my official name) you’re just like your father. Henry will eat anything, except beef, we are not big beef eaters!”

“I don’t want to say anything Mom, but if he does like beef, we should get him some, no? It IS his gift! New rug?”

Getting a little piqued, she says OK, but won’t promise me he will eat it. So we don’t mention beef anymore, even though she is out of range of a wooden spoon!

I get up, kiss Mom goodbye and say:

“By the way Mom, don’t go joining any pirate ships until after the New Year.”

THE YABERDASHER

2011-12-16T00:00:00.000-08:00

It was a great game for college. Ohio State and Michigan, a seesaw battle at halftime. TLW (The Little Woman) entered the house with #2 Son and proclaimed…

“Joe, I’m going to the mall, I need you to come.”

Climbing into the car, I inquire why I’m needed.

“Because your son needs clothes and he won’t shop with me. Says it embarrasses him to shop with his mother!”

“Yes, I see how that…”

“WHAT?”

“Yes, I can see how that tree is shedding all its leaves!”

Into the mall we head, the place is jammed with shoppers and little brats, all running into me as I look like Tony Dorsett, eluding tackles.

I don’t shop, especially for my son’s clothes that has always been TLW’s job. So I am seeing what they are buying for the first time. It shocks me to see that what they are buying they also wear!

A T-shirt that says: “I Don’t Care.”

I go a little further and see jackets that look like the Viet Cong wore them after hiding underground from a B-52 bombing! They look worn and faded and tired!

I finally come to a shirt that has some old lettering on it, looking like the type of signage one would see on an old ad painted on a turn of the last century building. Some of the letters are fading away, and some are only slightly discernable.

“Toots!” I yell, “I found something that will save us a lot of trouble!”

“What?”

“This shirt, it looks very old, it might make sense to buy it, you buy, bring it home and throw it out, you don’t have to wear it, it looks over-worn already! Boy, what will they think of next?”

Of course, we can’t just buy clothes for #2 Son. No, every purchase or consideration comes with: “Do you think he will like this, Joe?”

I see a nice shirt, with a few polo players on the chest, comes with a matching hat, TLW laughs at me.

I start to finger a coat.

“He won’t wear that, he says it will make him look fat, besides, it's leather, he won't wear leather. Has to be Faux leather!”

I wonder to myself if he uses real cream in his coffee or Creamola?

“And what is wrong with fat? It’s in now.”

I see another shirt.

“Here’s something nice, Toots!”

“NO! Too big, he wants small!”

“Small!”

“Yes, nothing that makes him look fat.”

One more try and I find what I think is pay dirt; a grey double pocket shirt, small and dull looking rag.

“He’ll love this Toots!”

“WHY!?”

“Because it makes him look like one of the unwashed masses, needing a union, and living in a refrigerator box under an overpass on the LIE!”

“Yes, he will!”

It’s hard for me to understand why but I notice all the smalls are taken up already. They have XLRG, LRG, MED, and very little SM. All the mothers got there early and grabbed them all. SM stands for; Smart Mother.

I remember when style made you look good. You went into the store, and the item called you, spoke to you, seduced you. Now, I see the stuff they are selling and it looks like it came from Goodwill, and needs to be ironed, desperately!

MEATBALL ART

2011-12-15T00:00:00.000-08:00

All my life, meatballs were a big part of it. Mom would make them on a Sunday morning, and I learned at an early age you need to dip into the pot and get one! We had a weekly Sunday visitor named Mike who came to the house and paid a visit. Mom would have the pot of meatballs permeating in the sauce and Mike would get a folk and help himself. I would watch this ritual every week and wished I were tall enough to dig into the pot myself and get a meatball.

When I was tall enough to help myself, Mom started to place the wooden spoon on the handle of the big pot as a deterrent to proliferation of the meatball population. This was intimidating since the spoon had been stirring the hot sauce.

Finally I got married and realized that with a plan and an inexperienced meatball maker, I could possibly pull it off, or in the case of meatballs, pull one out! TLW (The Little Woman) had faithfully replicated Mom’s recipe and was leaving the pot unprotected! The possibilities were unlimited! After a few times, I started to get sloppy and leave telltale signs of meatball theft. (I think I wanted to be caught) Although TLW never said “No” to my taking the meaty wonders, she would remark when there were signs. Often she went out to the store or church, opening up my chances. Sometimes she would say: “Joe, would stir the gravy while I’m gone?” It was like asking a horse thief to lock the stable door.

Recently, she interrupted my Jets game with an odd request.

“Joe, will you do me a favor and taste my meatballs?”

“I’m sorry, would you repeat that?”

“Yes, I tried a new recipe and I’m afraid it is too spicy. Go ahead, try one, you can even try a sausage if you want!”

It wasn’t April 1^st, I didn’t see any readable traps, and I know she never made explosive meatballs before, and so I took one. It was no fun. Having permission to take a meatball without the art of stealing it, is not the same.

Putting on her coat, she leaves me to the whole exposed rack of meatballs. Feeling somewhat disappointed, I wondered if it was the recipe or the lack of routine. I take one more, taste it and think: “Better, much better!”

Funny thing is I left the sausages alone; there is no tradition in it.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO A MEATBALL FROM CONNECTICUT, #2 SISTER, (NIPPY) FRAN!

HISTORICAL TRIVIA-DIGYANO?

2011-12-14T00:00:00.000-08:00

Because I love you, and the fact that someone sent me this…

Did you know the saying "God willing and the Creek don't rise" was in reference to the Creek Indians and not a body of water?

Benjamin Hawkins wrote in the late 18th century. He was a politician and Indian diplomat. While in the south, Hawkins was requested by the President of the U.S. to return to Washington. In his response, he was said to write, "God willing and the Creek don't rise." Because he capitalized the word "Creek" it is deduced that he was referring to the Creek Indian tribe and not a body of water.

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In George Washington's days, there were no cameras. One's image was either sculpted or painted. Some paintings of George Washington showed him standing behind a desk with one arm behind his back while others showed both legs and both arms. Prices charged by painters were not based on how many people were to be painted, but by how many limbs were to be painted. Arms and legs are 'limbs,' therefore painting them would cost the buyer more. Hence the expression, 'Okay, but it'll cost you an arm and a leg.' (Artists know hands and arms are more difficult to paint)

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As incredible as it sounds, men and women took baths only twice a year (May and October) Women kept their hair covered, while men shaved their heads (because of lice and bugs) and wore wigs. Wealthy men could afford good wigs made from wool. They couldn't wash the wigs, so to clean them they would carve out a loaf of bread, put the wig in the shell, and bake it for 30 minutes. The heat would make the wig big and fluffy, hence the term 'big wig... ' Today we often use the term 'here comes the Big Wig' because someone appears to be or is powerful and wealthy.

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In the late 1700's, many houses consisted of a large room with only one chair. Commonly, a long wide board folded down from the wall, and was used for dining. The 'head of the household' always sat in the chair while everyone else ate sitting on the floor. Occasionally a guest, who was usually a man, would be invited to sit in this chair during a meal.. To sit in the chair meant you were important and in charge. They called the one sitting in the chair the 'chair man.' Today in business, we use the expression or title 'Chairman' or 'Chairman of the Board.'

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Personal hygiene left much room for improvement.. As a result, many women and men had developed acne scars by adulthood. The women would spread bee's wax over their facial skin to smooth out their complexions. When they were speaking to each other, if a woman began to stare at another woman's face she was told, 'mind your own bee's wax.' Should the woman smile, the wax would crack, hence the term 'crack a smile'. In addition, when they sat too close to the fire, the wax would melt . .. . Therefore, the expression 'losing face.'

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Ladies wore corsets, which would lace up in the front. A proper and dignified woman, as in 'straight laced' wore a tightly tied lace..

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Common entertainment included playing cards. However, there was a tax levied when purchasing playing cards but only applicable to the 'Ace of Spades...' To avoid paying the tax, people would purchase 51 cards instead. Yet, since most games require 52 cards, these people were thought to be stupid or dumb because they weren't 'playing with a full deck..'

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Early politicians required feedback from the public to determine what the people considered important. Since there were no telephones, TV's or radios, the politicians sent their assistants to local taverns, pubs, and bars. They were told to 'go sip some Ale and listen to people's conversations and political concerns. Many assistants were dispatched at different times. 'You go sip here' and 'You go sip there.' The two words 'go sip' were eventually combined when referring to the local opinion and, thus we have the term 'gossip.'

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At local taverns, pubs, and bars, people drank from pint and quart-sized containers. A bar maid's job was to keep an eye on the customers and keep the drinks coming. She had to pay close attention and remember who was drinking in 'pints' and who was drinking in 'quarts,' hence the phrase 'minding your 'P's and Q's'.

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One more: bet you didn't know this!

In the heyday of sailing ships, all war ships and many freighters carried iron cannons. Those cannons fired round iron cannon balls. It was necessary to keep a good supply near the cannon. However, how to prevent them from rolling about the deck? The best storage method devised was a square-based pyramid with one ball on top, resting on four resting on nine, which rested on sixteen. Thus, a supply of 30 cannon balls could be stacked in a small area right next to the cannon. There was only one problem.... how to prevent the bottom layer from sliding or rolling from under the others. The solution was a metal plate called a 'Monkey' with 16 round indentations. However, if this plate were made of iron, the iron balls would quickly rust to it. The solution to the rusting problem was to make 'Brass Monkeys.' Few landlubbers realize that brass contracts much more and much faster than iron when chilled.. Consequently, when the temperature dropped too far, the brass indentations would shrink so much that the iron cannonballs would come right off the monkey; Thus, it was quite literally, 'Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.' (All this time, you thought that was an improper expression, didn't you.)

THE INSTITUTE

2011-12-13T00:00:00.000-08:00

All my life people have told me I have very nice penmanship. The reason could be one of two: one may be I am artistically inclined, or two may be because of my early years of education at Our Lady of Lourdes Elementary School on Aberdeen Street in Brooklyn. I like to believe that the later is true.

A whole morning was often dedicated to teaching each student the correct way to hold a pencil, with a pincer grasp, the slant of the paper on the desk, the posture and the correct formation of the letter being created. Up on the wall, surrounding the room, and under the pictures of Washington and Lincoln, who sat under the cross, was the famous alphabet with guidelines from ‘Aa’ to ‘Zz’. The pictures reminded us that we were American; the crucifix reminded us that we better pay attention or that would happen to us, and of course the alphabets gave us a clue.

The teacher would stroll the room overlooking your paper and try very hard to change the left-handers to right-handers, move the pencil from your middle finger to your index finger, straighten your posture and clearly and precisely as possible, form your letters correctly. Non-compliance meant that your ears might hurt.

TLW (The Little Woman) had the same kind of education as I did early on, with the same tools. Unfortunately, she was sick the day they taught penmanship, and so writes left-handed, and because of that, I’m not even sure that she legally signed the marriage license! As you know, I have to take her notes to me to the pharmacist to read back to me. I tried once to hold it up on a mirror, but the darn mirror cracked and she yelled at me to be more careful!

Aside from the penmanship lessons, the school taught me other things as well: deportment, God, and respect. It was a kind of Institute of higher learning. I learned that women were equal to any man, that respect for adults meant something, and that ‘Thank you’ had a meaning.

Mom and Dad also supplemented the institute, with rules such as: “If I hear that the teacher needed to discipline you at school, when you get home you will get the rest!”

It was an imposing building, three stories high and made of brick, which matched the church building and the rectory. There was a large multi-sectioned schoolyard and even a garden where the priests lived. The building had it’s own meaning aside from the classroom. It told me that there was where all I was going to be worth was learned. That was the place where they waited for me in the schoolyard and started to direct my education. They made me line up in a class, move by grade to my classroom, and like Pavlov’s dog, when to move and eat by the sound of a bell!

To Mom it was a happy place. For her! It was where she managed to maintain her sanity for a few precious hours a day, until I left the building and returned home. After a day with the brothers and nuns and frustrated lay-teachers, Mom’s wooden spoons seemed like a great place to be.

BIRTHDAY WISHES

2011-12-12T00:00:00.000-08:00

“A birthday is just the first day of another 365-day journey around the sun. Enjoy the trip.

Best wishes on your upcoming birthday!”

The Wanna-Be Bank & Truss Co.

Last December 1^st, I got this wonderful email from the Wanna-Be Bank & Truss Co. It is not often that a bank takes the time to recognize your birthday.

“A birthday is just the first day of another 365-day journey around the sun. Enjoy the trip.”

That is a very true sentiment, one that puts birthdays in perspective.

“Best wishes on your upcoming birthday!”

“Best wishes” How could you not love those words? Yes, it makes me feel special.

For myself, I feel honored that they took the time. When I think about all the people that I know who work there, Like TLW (The Little Woman), The Princess of Foxwoods Points, Toots II, I’ll Do It Doug, and the Bow Tie Lenny, I see their smiling faces and feel the love.

To all of you I say: “Thank you, I appreciate it.” To all of you I say: “Please, no presents?” To all of you I say: “Don’t bother about a card?”

But mostly I say: “My birthday isn’t until July!”

1955

2011-12-11T00:00:00.000-08:00

Life seemed to change in a big way every ten years for me. Something major would occur that marked a turning point in my life and stayed with me.

1955 was the year when someone asked my father: “Is that your kid?” and he was starting to answer “Yes” instead of “Why?”

Mom was coming to the realization that I was growing and started to buy bigger and heavier wooden spoons. She was happy and I was happy for her.

Around the end of the year, about a week before Christmas, we moved from Brooklyn and headed out to the burbs. I was going to be among the countrified, the genteel, the trees and birds and lawns that typified life on Long Island. My parents wanted to turn me into a sissy, not a boy from Brooklyn anymore.

We moved one Saturday evening and as I rode the Long Island Railroad train out to the country from the Atlantic Avenue station in Brooklyn, I watched the city fade away, and with it all I knew. I was going to a strange place, with strange people, and worse, a strange school. I was not happy.

As the train sped away, I could see the grimy, filthy brick and stone buildings, the congested traffic, the thousands of people milling about, the parked cars on the streets, the garbage cans with their deformed lids, and I was going to miss it all, as it faded into the gloom of evening and distance!

Beside my Mom was my baby sister, just a year old and learning to talk, not only fluently, but also - worse still, rapidly! My two other sisters were already out in the new place with my Dad who had to go in early. They could already talk fast, and I knew the odds against me were even greater now.

As we arrived at the Patchogue Railroad Station, we fell out of the train and into my aunt’s car, where she drove us into the still of the night, and the darkness of a strange new home.

As we entered the new house, Dad was relieved of total command as Mom took over. I was warned (precautionary as Mom would say) and given a place to sleep for the night.

The next morning two of my worse fears were confirmed.

1) My sisters were still there

B) We really had moved!

Dad had to go back to the city that Monday because he still worked on Canal Street in NYC, for the NY Laboratory and Supply Company, and so I was looked to do a little exploring.

“Joseph, stop teasing your sisters, I need you to find a grocery store.”

“Where am I gonna find a store Ma?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t need you now would I? And while you’re out there, see if you can find a church.”

Out I go into the undeveloped and foreign neighborhood of Hagerman, East Patchogue, or one of those places, and start down the street toward what I hope is civilization of some sort.

Not the Original Church

I was amazed by the lack of civilization, and quickly became worried that there was no TV in the area! All I could actually see was trees, dried winter grass, and old worn out gas stations, with big signs on them. After making the only turn heading west, I decided I would walk a while, and after no luck, would retrace my steps. I was missing Curiale’s and Butlers deli markets! Not even a Spinner’s in the area, this was the boondocks! My feet were starting to hurt when I finally came across a place that looked interesting. “Gene’s Supermarket”, the sign said, and I went in.

There standing behind the counter was this nasty looking old lady who eyed me suspiciously. I went to the bread section and got a loaf of sliced bread, and quart of milk and I think some baloney and mayo. She eyed me in her pink flowered cotton apron, watching my every move. Barely standing with her grey head over the counter. She must have thought that I was going to rob her. I was a stranger, probably one of ‘those city kids’.

No smile was emanating from the lady. No acknowledgment that I was a customer, and no trust that I was honest. Feeling very alone and strange, I placed the groceries on the counter and waited for her to tally it all up. Still no smile from grandma, as she rang me up. I tried smiling, but was greeted with a stone and stern face, and almost hostility. Paying her, I was about to leave, when I had an idea.

Me: “Do you know where the church is?”

Momma Mean: “What church?”

Me: “ Catholic church.” I replied timidly.

Momma mean: “Oh! Sure! St. Joseph The Worker, right across the street on this side of the road, honey!” She was now smiling! I had made a friend.

Thanking her, I told her how happy my mother was going to be!

When I returned home, Mom asked how I did.

“Oh, fine, the store is nearly in Brooklyn!”

“Did you find a church?” she asked.

“Yup! They knew I was coming so they named it after me; St. Joseph the something or other.”

“Yes, they did, didn’t they!”

COMRAD SON

2011-12-10T00:00:00.000-08:00

I was trapped! There was no way of getting out, and the oxygen level was dangerously low! It seemed like the ceiling was caving in on me and soon it would be all over, as my breathing was in short gasps. Fear was overtaking me and it seemed like there was no hope left. I even feared my body was shutting down!

#2 Son was sitting next to me and we were on our way somewhere in the driving rain and I was being questioned once again. It was conversion time, that time when the son who has all the answers is enlightening his father who has no questions and didn’t ask.

The idea of drinking while driving was starting to appeal to me: so was maybe closing my eyes and getting into a fetal position and going into the back seat to do it. The problem with that was #2 Son would then drive. The last time anyone saw driving like that was on the Indy 500 track, and the time before that was against a carrier in the South Pacific by a plane with a meatball painted on it’s wings and sides!

Sobbing has become a seasonal event, usually in the car where #2 Son has a captivated audience of 1, and that audience is named Dad. It seems that all of life’s experience can be gained on the campus of Purchase SUNY. There is no need to live life after that. Marriage, career, social interaction, all are meaningless unless you have spent time on the Purchase SUNY campus! Had I known this sooner, say 45 years ago, I would have attended and then decided there was nothing else to do, and would have gone into the mountains and wrote philosophy of life snippets for the unwashed and uneducated masses.

There was a bigger issue looming. The ride home! I thought at one point of abandoning the car and taking a bus home, or even walking the ten miles or so.

As I feared, the ride home was worse. The category selected by #2 Son was a continuation of the ride going: my politics. The last time he selected: Dad’s political point of view and the time before that was: talking Dad’s political point of view. So you see, the topics were wide and varied.

Suddenly, as I was contemplating abandoning the car on the road and just running back and forth across the east bound traffic on Rte. 347 the next turn to my voyage of the damned came up and I started to have hope. “Hang on DelBloggolo, only a few more miles to rest your soul!”

Finally we arrive, my head is spinning, and my ears ringing and no one is answering! TLW (The Little Woman) I blame her for junior Karl Marx looks at me and chuckles! Sure, she didn’t have to ride with him.

Oh death, sweet relieving death, where are you????

SPORTS FANS: Read my blog: http://joenellen.blogspot.com/

SELF-BRANDING

2011-12-09T00:00:00.000-08:00

Recently I attended a presentation on self-branding. The idea is to present the best face of a business or organization to the public, especially on the Internet. This was a few days before I took down a website I had planned to launch. It included some interesting concepts and along with another presentation on how to get your business found quickly, it made for some very interesting strategy.

I decided since I don’t need the info for a business anymore, that maybe I would ‘Re-brand’ DelBloggolo! Yes, my feeling is that it should be used for something that will be helpful, not just something that ruins your first cup of coffee in the morning.

I seem to remember floating the idea of cups or t-shirts with the DelBloggolo logo on it, maybe a board game or maybe even a book on favorite DelBloggolo blogs. That is nice, but does it further a bigger and better cause?

So I am playing with the idea of taking the DelBloggolo merchandising idea and donating the money to charities that the readership (That is you) might like. Every month, we take the proceeds and from your suggestion, send the money there.

I would take one month and send it to AHRC Suffolk, one month to The Compassionate Friends, maybe one month to a Autism group. Every month I would pick a group from your selection and donate the money.

If this idea appeals to you (I promise the merchandise will NOT have my picture on it and will not contain anything objectionable) let me know and I will start the process of thinking it through.

COMING OUT OF THE CLOSET, HOHOHO!

2011-12-08T00:00:00.000-08:00

It’s that time of the year again, and yours, truly is once again playing Santa. There are two places I go to for the last few years, one is a home for developmentally disabled adults, and then 2 nights later I do their annual holiday dance. The home has only 8 people, and they love me! Who wouldn’t, I’m Santa after all. The dance includes over 400 individuals who get their picture taken and get to tell Santa what they want.

The dance usually takes over 2 hours with picture taking of each individual or sometimes his or her boy or girl friends included. The temperature in that suit reaches the point that I start to sweat, through the beard, the hat, and the suit!

But the worst part is the physical abuse your body can take. For instance, posing with someone very small or vary large causes you to strain your own body. Those that are physically disabled require extra effort to get into the picture with them.

But the best thing about playing Santa is that people believe. They express love, and I try to give it back. I work on my HOHOHO’s, and I try to image what Santa should do. It makes my holiday for sure.

There is a big closet at the end of the General Purpose Room where the dance is held, in there I dress and hide out until the curtain call. The live band plays and suddenly the MC makes the announcement, and the big wooden door opens and out Santa comes. Joe Del Bloggolo has disappeared into space somewhere, and Santa takes over. Once out that door, they charge Santa, grabbing him and hugging or kissing or slapping him on the back. God, that feels great!

If I had the power to give them a gift, it would be the gift of healing, so they would be home with their families, rather in a dance because they are disabled. I am grateful for the opportunity to do this kind of thing. It makes me do for someone else, besides myself. I truly believe that to attain true happiness, your actions should be the reason you smile, and see others smiling too. What I do to make people smile, make them laugh and more importantly, put them in the spirit of the holiday is my gift to myself.

PEARL HARBOR

2011-12-07T00:00:00.000-08:00

70 years ago, the world was once again, fully into conflict. In those 70 years, a lot has been learned and in the immediate past 20 years, and yours truly learned a lot too.

We as westerners come to view the attack on Pearl Harbor as a “sneak” attack. If you ask a Japanese what that was, he or she will tell you from the Bushido code, it is launching a battle, and surprise is the element most needed to succeed.

The Japanese people didn’t want war, and the raging conflict that existed within the Japanese government was between the peace faction and moderates opposed to war against the army and navy hotheads that eventually prevailed. The military even deceived the Emperor!

Many Americans think that Hiroshima was the reason for Japan’s surrender. It wasn’t! What made Japan surrender was the firebombing that the USAF conducted with impunity on the cities of Japan, threatening to wipe out the cities populations and cultures. They, the Japanese viewed the atomic bomb as just another weapon. The Emperor, Hirohito saw the destruction of the Atomic bomb and feared for his people.

The Japanese considered the atomic bomb to be an act of terrorism and a war crime, and had they won the war, General Curtis Lemay would have stood trial for war crimes because of the fire bombing, as well as the atomic bomb!

I personally do not wish to pardon the Japanese for what they did, especially in Nanking, Hong Kong, and Singapore, not to mention the Bataan Death March, or the callous disregard for prisoners of war. What troubles me is we were sending home skeleton heads of dead Japanese soldiers as souvenirs, a ghoulish act in anyone’s book.

So what we have is the sad fact that we wage war, make ourselves self-righteous and condemn the loser as the aggressor, the barbarian, and the war criminal.

I have always admired the Japanese race. They are culturally a beautiful people, dealing with the pleasures of life. Everyone writes poems that depict the moment or a character. The way they view nature, the simplicity in their art and their calligraphy, so beautiful that each character could be a design in itself, which it is. The Japanese food is some of the best in the world, and I am not speaking of sushi, although I love it. Their lives are interwoven with tradition that dates for hundreds and hundreds of years, unchanged, and yet can be adapted to today’s needs. Flower arrangements, tea ceremonies, sword making, lacquer finishing, their dress and utensils, all viewed distinctively as Japanese, and their art is special. They have perfected the art of brush painting. They have taken a war-ravaged economy and turned it into one of the best and most prosperous in the world. They are the leaders now in the auto industry and electronics.

It is too bad we need to fight among ourselves, there is so much to enjoy, so much to learn, and so much to give to each other.

Maybe someday we will all get it.

GETTING THE DROP ON ‘EM,

2011-12-06T00:00:00.000-08:00

Or scrambled Sunday!

We went to our usual diner for breakfast a few Sundays ago, after Mass. TLW (The Little Woman) in her never ending quest to get me to heaven tries every Sunday. In my quest to reward her for fighting such heavy odds, I buy her breakfast after each desperate attempt.

Seated in the diner, I waited for my chance. It was a usual Sunday and I needed to shake things up, kind of give the day a different twist. Looking around I spotted my ‘mark’, a young waitress heading my way!

Over came the young lady with her perky smile who was going to take our order. Bright and young as a new spring morning, with pen and order pad in hand, she stood before us ready to launch her greeting. But before she even took that first breath to do so…

Me: “Good morning! I’m Joe and this is TLW, we will be your customers today!” (This technique was actually developed by #1 Son a while ago, and I decided to add it to my repertoire of confusions.)

The young lady just stood there, tried to say something, and wondered why her world had gone so badly in such a short time.

Me: “I’ll have two scrambled, French fries extra crispy and rye toast.”

Her: “Huh… oh, er… No meat?”

Now she was really confused, someone had taken her routine and twisted it and was now NOT doing the ordinary, no meat!”

Feeling completely successful I replied: “NO meat, its meatless Sunday!”

She not once came over to interrupt us to ask if everything was alright!

OLD ACQUAINTENCES

2011-12-05T00:00:00.000-08:00

Last night I was bringing my daughter back to her home when I met an old friend of TLW (The Little Woman) and mine named Jack. Like us, Jack and his wife have a daughter with developmental disabilities like ours, she lives in an ICF (Intermediate Care Facility), and like us he and his wife care very much for and about their child. Jack is in his late 70’s and carries his burden in his face, as his age takes over his being.

As he was leaving the building with his wife, and I had pulled up I could see that they looked a little down. I decided to get his attention and say hello, and ask about his daughter. From the look on his and her faces, devastation had set in, once again. Parents like us have to deal with the possibilities of having a fragile child and bad news.

I asked about their health and they asked about mine. Then I asked about his daughter. For the first time his wife spoke up. “More tumors on her leg!” she offered. Funny how news like that can hit you. You think; “Thank God my daughter doesn’t have that!” then you feel guilty about thinking it.

“I’m so sorry!”

Jack looked up for the first time, and said: “Well, THIS time they got a great doctor, he’ll nip it in the bud!”

Somehow it didn’t convince me, so I said what I should have; “Good Jack, they have some great doctors these days.” We turned to go our own ways, and as I looked back at him and his wife, the mother of his daughter, a child of 51 in crises from the day she was born, and I hugged my daughter very close and very long.

With children like ours, we can’t afford to worry about tomorrow; we need to embrace the present moments that we have with them.

ALL OUR PRIORITIES ARE ALL IN ORDER

2011-12-04T00:00:00.000-08:00

The other day, I was out for a late afternoon meeting, and no one was home.

TLW (The Little Woman) came home from work and entered an empty house.

I got home and we had dinner. TLW made an announcement-that she came home to an empty house and realized she missed…

Well guess who she missed?

Go on, take a guess.

One of her kids… Nooooo.

Her husband who is there every night for over 40 years…

Noooo!

The FRIGGIN DOG! That’s who!

SHE MISSED THE FRIGGIN DOG!

The dog is dead.

Since early May, the dog has been gone. This is the same dog that greeted her in the morning when she got up with: poops, pee, and the night before’s dinner on the rug! That is who she missed!

Not her husband of 40 years who makes dinner for her every night, not the husband who unscrews the jars, fixes things, listens intently to her stories from the Wanna-Be-Bank and Truss Co! Nooo, The friggin dog she misses.

I’m thinking, maybe I should poop on the rug so she’ll miss me once in a while.

HO-HO, UH-OH!

2011-12-03T00:00:00.001-08:00

It’s that time of the year! That wonderfully magic day called: Christmas.

Oh, how I hate this time of the year!

As I get older, the joys I used to experience for the season to be jolly have now slipped me by. I have no little children to plan Christmas for, no grandchildren that I know of, so it is just TLW (The Little Woman), and me.

I remember Christmas morning with the kids, presents wrapped and the house decorated like it was vandalized by Santa!

It is also the time that I shop for TLW. I think for putting up with me for the whole year, she should and deserves a present. Maybe present is a little weak for what she deserves, but nonetheless, it is an issue that keeps me awake at nights.

IT IS A NIGHTMARE!

I can’t recall how many years I have had the same bad dream. It is Christmas morning, she gives me a gift that knocks my socks off, and I realize I didn’t get her one! The sense of failure, shame, guilt and remorse, the self-anger is all there, and I was a thoughtless husband, forgetting someone dear.

It is a motivator, big time.

Usually in that dream, the kids are still all living at home, and in my usual fashion, I am teasing them about the gifts they got.

Growing up in Brooklyn, I don’t recall Mom and Dad exchanging gifts for the Holidays. Mom cooked, Dad went out to buy the presents and I guess that was all that was needed. We had a tree, usually purchased on Christmas Eve that needed help, and probably should have been placed in a large bucket so it could catch all the pine needles that were falling off.

Maybe they exchanged gifts quietly, maybe not. I know we were poor so maybe they just had each other. They always made sure we had the same toys as our friends did, so there must have been some kind of checking with other parents as to what to get us so all the kids in the neighborhood had the same.

I know that I have mentioned this before, and I will mention it again… the best gift I got from TLW was our first Christmas. We were struggling to get started in life as a couple, and were married only about 6 months. I had a job and was on my way, but money was tight. My watch had stopped working and I was not using it. As a tradition we have stocking gifts, and in it goes little items, price is not the criterion, just that there be something in it. In my stocking was my watch, which I had forgotten about, repaired! It made me very happy to this day!

Avoid the nightmares-shop for your sweetie – TODAY!

This year I got her her present early! I have to intercept the postman so she doesn't see the bill!

WHAT DIES FIRST?

2011-12-02T00:00:00.000-08:00

There is that old question of: what came first, the chicken or the egg. It has been lingering around for many years and indeed, I once used it in a speech in Yorktown Pa. before the Direct Marketing Association convention.

The question seems to be arising in disguise this time.

My sister Tess and I were planning for the traditional Christmas Eve feast that many Italian families have of seven fish. Being Italy is a sea-faring nation, fish is a big part of their diet, and the seven comes from the: 7 hills of Rome. My grandparents brought that tradition over when they landed at Ellis Island. It was probably one of the greatest gifts, aside from their journey to this country, that they gave their children and grandchildren.

Tessie has taken on the tradition from my mother who at 93 will settle for a tuna sandwich on rye as long as she doesn’t have to cook anymore. My sister and I love the tradition, and looked forward to it since childhood. What the tradition really means to us is family. Getting together and keeping in touch with our sibs, cousins and aunts and uncles. Of course that has changed as we got older and now it is our children, and nieces and nephews.

This year sadly we will change the tradition a bit! Instead of cooking we will cater the Christmas Eve dinner. This is an unheard of departure form our beloved tradition, but Tess is getting tired as she approaches a rather big numbered birthday, and she also has a husband who is ill at the moment.

In catering, we have lost our personal touch, our statement that says we love each other, so we bother. That is the cooking aspect; the fish symbolizes our heritage and reminds us of our grandparents and the risks they took to come to this country, not knowing the language.

We still have the fish, without our touch, but we also have the most important ingredient in this celebration, each other. That we will hold onto for all our lives. What traditions are broken will be broken, but not forgotten and will dwell in our collective hearts.

I think like all families, we can have disagreements, but we do love one another, and that settles any dispute that may arise.

So to the family, to the friends we love to have join us, I know I am saddened and sorry we are changing. But walk into the house that evening, smell the food, see the lights of Christmas, and feel the true love that abounds in our hearts. Behind every greeting will be a genuine happiness that you are there, and that we will love having you, and will love you forever for joining us.

But to get back to the original question; What dies first, the person or the tradition, the chicken or the egg?