HELLO-MA? MA, IT’S ME!

Every now and then I get the courage up to call my mother.

Mom is called Olympia, and I just wanted to call her, after all, when someone is 93, they get cranky if you don’t call them!

“HELLO-MA? MA, IT’S ME!”

“Who’s this? Is that you Joseph?”

“Yes, Ma, how ya doin?”

“I’m doing just fine, how is everybody?”

“Oh, we’re fine, TLW (The Little Woman) got arrested for shop-lifting again, Michael robbed a 7-Eleven, and I mugged a priest for the collection money.”

“That’s nice give them my love.”

“Wait Ma, how is it going, how is your health?”

“Wealth? What wealth?”

“How is your hearing?”

“I’m wearing casual like I always do, I don’t get out anymore.”

“YOUR HEALTH-HOW IS YOUR HEALTH?”

“What do you mean??”

You seeing the doctor, do you go for check-ups?”

“Listen, don’t get so smart, you’re not too old or too big to get hit with a wooden spoon! Is your sister telling you to call me? I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone checking up on me. Besides I have Henry, he takes me everywhere I need to go.” (Her 87 year old boy toy), so tell your sister not to worry, I’m completely independent. I don’t need help or watching over. By the way, can you take me to a doctors appointment next Thursday, Henry has to go to one himself.”

AUTOMATED TROUBLE ON THE I-95

I was on my way to Connecticut’s newest resident, my great nephew Ryan in Enfield. Cruising the I-95, TLW (The Little Woman) decided we needed to stop to eat breakfast. There are some things I don’t argue with TLW about: eating is one of them.

We pull into a rest stop that says: “Welcome to Connecticut!” The place is teeming with people, and there are few places to park, by I persevere.

We all elect to go to the rest rooms and off I go into the men’s room and now have to wash my hands. In front of me is a young fellow who sticks his hands under the soap dispenser, then under the water tap and then off to the dryer, all work automatically, no touching! Wow! I think” “That was fast and easy!”

My turn.

I stick my hands under the soap dispenser and – nothing.

I wave them under the soap dispenser and still, nothing. I step aside to the next sink, another kid comes under the old sink, soap comes out and off he goes, I side step back to the old soap dispenser and still, nothing!

I try again and get the soap, but the water refuses to come out. I step aside again and try the sink next to me, no water. I’m thinking that Candid Camera is making a comeback, and I’m on it. Going back to the original sink it works, and so off to the dryer.

Now it looks like I’m trying to start a fire, waving my hands back and forth, under the nozzle of the dryer, nothing is happening. I wondering: “Where is the camera?” I look about for towels but there are none, somebody is using the dryer rather well, and runs off I jump in, just as it is ending the cycle!

Automation and me just don’t get along. My GPS is always yelling at me, and the automatic checkout at the supermarket now cries when I show up: it does not like me either!

OK YOU FAT CHEWERS!

Yes, this means you, are you slightly overweight, grossly overweight? It is a darn shame that weight has to be so important. Me, I like people who are weight challenged. Why, because they can’t seem to get a break.

My gosh, you spend your life paying taxes, trying to survive by making a living, follow all the rules of Christian/Judaic law, and you still gain weight, and can’t lose the damned pounds you gained. GIVE ME A BREAK!

There are people out there that walk around eating anything they want, and they are skinny! Do I hate them? YES!

My doctor gets so sanctimonious, pulling out a diet, meanwhile I’m sure he is going to eat well. “You are a patient, you MUST feel guilty and suffer.”

Now I hear that the new rule of thumb is to chew your food at least 40 times, and if you do you consume less calories!

Now I ask you, who counts when they chew? Why the hell can’t I at least enjoy my food? I do all these darn things and still, they find a new way to kill my fun.

I like beets, corn and carrots, guess what? All that is no good for me, because it all turns to sugar! FRIGGIN SUGAR! You hear me? Sugar, that stuff I don’t put in my coffee anymore because they told me it is no good for me!

Count to 40??!! 40?  Let me just chew as much as I like, not counting, just eating. Leave me in peace.

JUST ONE DAY

I was looking back over the years, as I sat at a birthday party for a young great nephew of mine. Across from me sat 3 of my 4 sisters, and we were talking about the old days. Someone from a younger generation was asking questions about the family way back when, and it evoked more questions, about family members, places and things.

Quietly in my mind I thought about one of the big days of my life, when I was first hired as a young designer for an advertising agency that shaped me forever. It was filled with characters that were so vibrant, so lively, so filled with interesting facets.

One of those people was a man named Fred. Fred was a copywriter, who could and should have been a lot more. He had a great mind, and a great personality. There was one problem with Fred, he smelled. His body odor was so intense that you had to stand away from him when you spoke.

One bright morning, I went into his office and he had the Friday morning NY Times on his desk, opened to the crossword puzzle. He started to talk to me, look at the clue and fill in the answer. He only went one way, across, because he finished it by just going across!

If you have ever done crosswords you know that Friday is the hardest of the week, and the NY Times is the hardest of them all! Not convinced, I decided to ask him if I could borrow his newspaper, later in the day. That afternoon I went in, asked for his paper, and he dug it out of his trashcan, and I took it with me. With a dictionary I spot-checked the answers to the clues: he was on target!

I thought: “Just one day I would like to think like he does-after a shower.”

WARNINGS COME FAST

Recently I went to a birthday party for a great nephew Ryan, who is one year old. He looked good for his age, and looked like he had plenty of good years ahead of him.

Being how this was the first time I was meeting him, he was being introduced by his grandfather, my brother-in-law Tom.

“Now this is Uncle Joe: you know what we told you about him!”

Then there was my sister Joanne, talking to little Ryan, giving him instructions while pointing at me: “try not to look at him, he is crazy, always try to look away.”

MR. RYAN DZICEK

Then there was my older sister Tess, (Much older) who just flat out said: “Don’t pay any attention to him.” meaning me.

I get the feeling these people are living in fear!

When we were younger and living under the same roof, my sister Fran was a constant irritant, always telling on my every move I’d make. So I devised my own form of revenge by simply looking at her.

“Ma, he’s looking at me!”

“JOSEPH, STOP LOOKING AT YOUR SISTER.”

Me: “I’m not looking at her.”

“Ma, he’s still looking at me.”

“THEN LOOK BACK, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

Joanne had her ways with her older brother too. She would just not disappear, instead constantly showing up and having me give her rides somewhere. These rides came from strict orders from on high.

“Mommy said you have to take me to twirling practice.” She would then smack me and I would chase her, until “I got you last!”

“Got ya last”: became a cry of triumph, where she threatened to smack me when I got married, being the last possible day of “Got ya last” you could do. From when I got up that morning until I said: “I do” I was on my guard. As I walked down the aisle after the vows, she tapped me, and I informed her that it was too late, I was married, it didn’t count, leaving her with an unfulfilled life ever since.

Tessie, the older sister (much older), still laments how much she aged in one evening when she snooped in my room in the dark, not knowing I was hiding in it, waiting for her to snoop. As she cautiously tiptoed through the room in the dark, I let out a blood-curdling yell, which left her permanently gray and clutching the ceiling! Ah! The good old days!

MY, HOW YOU’VE GROWN!

I remember the old days, when you entered the library like it was a sacred place. Everyone was quiet, and I was really impressed by the sheer amount of little index cards that tracked the volume of books that existed on the shelves. Not only that, but the way they could track all the borrowers.

I can recall Miss Goodnuff, sitting behind the desk in her horned rimmed glasses, hair in a bun and print floral dress with socks rolled down to the ankles wondering why she never married. She had the power: SHE was the librarian.

If you wanted a book, and books were about the only thing you could borrow, you took the book to the desk, where rubber stamps determined your destiny for the next month. In fact, I kind of miss the beaurocracy of it all. The stamping of the card, the cardholder that was pasted securely on the inside back cover that was the due date. Then they got lazy and used little stickers, one over the other until you couldn’t close the darn thing because of the piles of stickers.

Inhabiting the tables sat high school and college students, with open reference books and paper and pens, scribing what they researched, deep into it. On the easy chairs sat the pompous elite, reading the NY Times, legs crossed with penny loafers and reading glasses.

Today, as you enter, the first thing you notice is the swarm of children that populate the place, followed by legions of laptop users, some just to get away from their wives, some to read magazines, and few to borrow books. Our library has a food store/cafeteria where you can buy sandwiches and coffee and over sized and over priced cookies. If you ever took a cup of coffee or cookies into the library when Miss Goodnuff was in charge, she would have given you a stern reprimand, and tossed your ass out into the parking lot. (If you ever saw Miss Goodnuff, you knew chances were she had kept the cookies)

Today I did something queer, I borrowed a book! Queer in the sense that no one borrows books anymore. With electronic books, who needs one of those bulky things to carry around? Most people borrow movies, or tapes or books on discs, games on CD’s and DVD’s including music. Old Ben Franklin must be rolling in his grave.

I bring my book up to this old gentleman who takes it and places it on a flat bed about a foot square. Looking up into a computer monitor, he looks confused. He lifts the book up and places it down again, but still no read. He palms up his hands and shrugs his shoulders. I ask: “Does this mean the book isn’t heavy enough and has to go back to the shelf?

Old Miss Goodnuff would have stamped that sucker crazy and sent me on my way!

IN THE GUTTER

 I happened to have a little garden. Nothing special grew there, just some weeds and little plants that the birds dropped while flying around. The garden had perfect dimensions, in that the length was about 50 to 60 feet, and about 6 inches wide. No, that is not a mistake, 6 inches wide. It happened to be my gutters on my front lower roof of my house.

Today I had a tree trimmer come to the house and remove a lot of branches that seemed to suddenly be sitting over the roof line of my house, causing me to fear that a squirrel would nest in my attic. When the branches were removed, there stood the garden! Three different trees contributed to the coverage, and it now explains why my home was so cool in the dead of summer!

Someone had to now climb a ladder and clean out the gutters. Who could that be?

I got out good old Uncle Eddie’s ladder, and laid it next to the house. Suddenly, the roofline was getting higher. Taking a plastic bag and a rubber glove, I take on the first rung and think: “Is this a good idea?” I think: there are plenty of old guys who climb onto their roof, so get your sissy ass moving and climb,”

Slowly I climb, one rung at a time, the ground getting further and further away from me, I try not to look down, but the ladder tends to bend inward as I climb. I think about past diets, and envision the undertaker trying to close the lid down on me and having to cut a hole in the top so it will shut. Did I need all that ice cream? Didn’t I realize that someday, this day would come and I would have to climb a ladder to clean gutters?  

I get to the top, and now have to climb off the ladder and get on the roof, a very awkward thing to do on a slanted roof. I feel the footing is not very steady and my balance is suspect. I take baby steps and move very slowly, lowering myself to the roof without losing my balance. I look out over the roofline down to the ground and think which bones I will break when I go tumbling off.

I decide to survive this attempt, I need to crawl along the roof, or at least drag my ass along and scoop out a hand filled at a time. Balance is still a problem as I don’t want to get too close to the edge, slip and go falling off, cracking open my skull to reveal a family secret: there is nothing in it!

The beads of sweat start to pour, little bugs flick on my arm nose and face. I can’t respond to any of it too quickly, fear is taking over.

Finally I am done, and realize getting up on the roof is easier than getting back on the ladder and going down the first few steps! Edging back to the ladder, I make a few awkward attempt, getting my foot stuck in the rung at one point. Slowly I head down, imagining the ladder sliding away to my right with me on it. No one is home, TLW (The Little Woman) is working, #2 Son is working, and I decided to do this by myself. NOBODY IS HOME!  I could be lying there for hours, waiting for someone to come and get an ambulance.

I can see the grave marker:

“HERE LIES J. DELBLOGGOLO, 

BECAUSE OF SQUIRRELS AND GARDENS."

THE BIRDS

Today, I was alerted that a bird was dying on my front lawn.

On occasion, a squirrel will be found dead on my driveway. I died years ago and forgot to lie down.

So where does this all lead us? To a question, or maybe two, 1) why are animals dying on my property, and B) why am I the one who always has to take care of the carcass?

Not since poor Dominick hit the skids way back when in the doctor’s office have I had to deal with the demise of something other than my youth. (See Tuesday, August 10, 2010)

Now I have a 23 year old who really lives in my house, I feed him, house him and pay for his cigarettes and beer, do you think he would dispose of the dead bird? Ha!

TLW (The Little Woman) refuses to go even go out side!

“Oh, I’m not going out there, there is a dying bird out there!"

I often wonder, what would happen around here if I should croak? I mean, who does the honors with the untimely death of a mouse, a bird or even a squirrel? Not to mention a rat. (See Saturday, July 24, 2010)

I can see it now, “Go dig up your father, there is a dead mouse in the skimmer!”

Believe me, the woman will slap me alive to deal with it!

BOXED OUT

Our cablevision provider, who is slightly more important than our primary care provider, has found a way to make more money on my sedentary behind. Yes, they can make money while I sit in my chair, watching the idiot panel. (We used to call it the boob tube, and the idiot box, but with flat screen TVs we need to come of age.)

The thieves will now be making it a requirement to have a box for each TV you have in your home. The one in the den will not suffice anymore, no: you need one in the bedroom too. Do you have one in the kitchen, the bathroom, perhaps in a basement or extra bedroom, then; each one gets a box. You ask: “Do you pay for each one?” Does the Pope like beer and pretzels?

If you are a TV lover, and need one everywhere I mentioned, then maybe you should plan on enlarging your home to accommodate all the room the boxes take up in your home.

I have decided that what is now happening is a simple case of breaking and entering. Simple in that the cablevision company can rob me blind, I don’t see them doing it, and they have more of my money! They steal and break my bank account by entering through the wires! (Ok, maybe I do stretch things a bit)

Somehow I feel that with lap top computers, you may not need to have the idiot panel anymore. People will start to think, why get cable boxes and big screens when I can have my own personal entertainment center on my lap. Once people realize they don’t need these bums charging for the air we breath, maybe, just maybe they will go out of business and never be heard from again!

Except for a ballgame, I don’t watch TV, find it a disturbance, and I get all the news I need on the Internet. Internet news is much more current, you can research an item, you can choose to cut through the clutter AND there are no commercials!

What the cablevision people should do with their cable box is: bend over: (Hey!) pick it up and throw the darn thing out the window, along with their dishonest attempts at my money.

BUT WAIT FOLKS - THERE’S MORE!

The bastards are charging me 65 cents a month for the remote as it is, they will now charge me $2.00 a month for the remote! If I lose it, they will charge me an additional $19.95! These are thieves This s thievery at it’s worst! You realize that once the batteries go, they don’t send you new ones, and if they did, the sob’s would make you rent them too, as an additional charge!

I don’t think Jesus is happy with them.

MR. MARX, I PRESUME?

The other night I was driving home #2 Son, the Karl Marx of the family. Mr. Marx and I got into a discussion about property ownership and possessions. Mr. Marx thinks that no one should own property such as land, but you can own a toothbrush. Not only is he magnanimous, he is hygienically welcomed.

“Now property ownership is outrageous! Owning the land that we share with the animals then charging someone to use it!”

Me: “I own property, I shouldn’t have any?”

“That’s right, we should change the whole system in this country, the poor people don’t have etc., etc.”

Me: “Ok, let me get this straight-no one should have property?”

“Yes it is money making, it is capitalism!”

Me: “So, if I were to die, I should will all my property to your brother, after all, I wouldn’t want to offend you.”

“Well, maybe not land, just corporations shouldn’t own property. YOU can own property.”

Where are all the good communists these days?

OOOOOH, AAAHHH

OOOOOH, AAAHHH!

The email came from the photographer, the wedding pictures are on his website.

“Joe! The photographer just emailed me, the wedding photos are on his website!”

“Oh! What took him so long? We’ve been married for 40 years!”

“Remind me to call your mother and tell her how sorry I am.”

“Funny, she says the same thing about you!”

“You have to tell me how to do it.”

“Just pick up the phone and …”

“No you … Anthony and Courtney’s wedding pictures. How do I access them?”

“Well, first…”

“Never mind, I’ll figure it out.  OOOH, OOOOH, OOOOOOOOOH!!!! These are beautiful! Go on your computer and look.”

“Yes dear.”

TLW and #1 Son

I hit the slide show button and start getting all the pictures.

“How did you get those pictures before me? How come you can get those and I still am on the first ones? Huh? Hmmm? How come?”

“Well I…”

“Don’t get smug! Oh! I look skinny in this one. Oh, look Joe, there you are, we should order that one!  There’s one of the two of us! Remind me to order that one, Oh! I look skinny in this one too! There’s one of #1 Son and TLC (The Lovely Courtney)! I’m going to cry!”

“Please don’t, the computer is not water-proofed.”

“Oh, OH, there is my family pictures! Oh they look great!”

“Hey, where’s my family?”

“Oh, don’t worry, your family is on there too. God forbid if they weren’t!”

“Well, my side is dressed nice, we all had shirts and shoes on.”

“Joe, you have to send out emails to everyone so they can see the pictures.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you want your family to see them?”

“Well I …”

“And by the way, send the address to my sister Maureen, my brother Kevin and Sara, and Dennis and Angela, and don’t forget to send it to my niece Elizabeth, and Megan, did I mention Megan and maybe young Kevin (He’ll be old by the time she finishes) and Christine and don’t forget Joyce and Stephen and oh yes, my nephews and how could I forget Dennis and Angela-is there anyone on your side you’d like to send to, you need to get the email addresses and why don’t we send a nice note with that and I wish my parents were alive, you could send to them too. Maybe you should take the time to describe each photo, after all, they don’t know Courtney’s family, and doesn’t #1 Son look handsome there, and so does #2 I swear he looks just like my Uncle Julius, and make sure you check the chemicals in the pool, and there is some pork chops in the freezer for tonight.“

“What a good idea!”

STAMPING OUT SATURDAYS

The Postal Regulatory Commission, the overseer of the post office, is hosting hearings into the United States Postal Service request to suspend mail delivery on Saturdays. This past July 14^th, hearings were begun to consider what it means.

What it means is if you mailed something on Thursday, allowing for coffee breaks, losing it and dog bites, you won’t get it until Tuesday.

It seems that the Internet, email and texting has shaken the USPO at the roots! There is literally less volume of mail in the system. Volume of First-Class mail has dropped 15%! The funny thing is the package purchased mail end of it has increased due to Amazon.com and other on-line purchases that have increased in volume.

Uncle Sam would like to save some money, get an increase from a 44 cents stamp to 46 cents. So if you do the math: less hours, less efficiency and more cost to you!

I wonder how many more people will start to use the Internet to pay bills on time, mail out electronic cards for the Holidays, and birthdays?

Many businesses need the post office mail delivery on Saturdays to operate effectively. They seem to be opposed to the idea of no Saturday deliveries.  

So what will happen if mail is suspended on Saturdays? The Post Office estimates it will lose $7 billion this year. With the changes they wish to effect, they figure they could lose even more by just taking a day away, an this could help them realize their ultimate goal: even longer weekends.

The famous unofficial postal motto, that mantra, that little saying you learned from your post man when you plied away Fido or your kid sister from the postman’s pants leg will have to be revised to:

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds Monday thru Fridays.”

OMG! WHAT ABOUT SPECIAL DELIVERIES? You ask.

They won’t be so special anymore.

WHEN ART MEETS TECHNOLOGY

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone-Starring Daniel Radcliffe

http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi3115057433/

The other evening, as I was rolling into and then out of a stupor from the day’s events, I opened my eyes and there on the TV was a sorcerer! The fellow looked like he meant business and got my attention.

What was on was a Harry Potter movie, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, a special presentation. It was around 9:00 pm, so this was not a kiddie’s presentation.

As the story developed, so did my interest! This movie, and I am sure all the Harry Potter movies are alike, took on a magical feel, the story, the sets and the wonderful actors, all creating a beautiful story book feel! I felt like a kid, mesmerized and totally into it. The movie had great art direction, color, feel character development and I will look for more of the movies where I can.

It is great to go away as a grownup (That is what I am legally) and become a kid once again. I took some moments from the heat, the worries and the cares and was 7 once again. I really recommend your watching or at least reading the books. A tremendous amount of wonderful imagination went into these stories, and the acting is really superb. Just think of how great the scenes will be in your own mind!

Years ago, when #1 Son wrote for a children’s’ show called “All That” on Nickelodeon, there was a spoof he helped write called; “Harry Potty” and the kid who played the lead was very much like the main character of the real thing! The show was for young teenagers and was a sketch comedy that had a Saturday Night Live feel.

I CAN’T FIGURE IT OUT

Why do I even watch baseball?

Here I am a Mets fan, I root for the bums and they find ways to get hurt, miss half a season and lose. They wear pinstripes too, just like the Yankees. I think the pinstripes should go horizontal, like they play: DEAD.

It seems everybody and his uncle is a Yankee fan. Everybody likes the Yankees, and I mean everybody.

I don’t know anybody personally on the Yankees or Mets. Yet I root for one of those teams, and hate the other! There is no logic to rooting for a team other than to identify where you may come from, why the loyalty? What do I really get out of it? Why do I get nuts in the fall and root for the Jets? Again, the blood pressure goes way up and I get agita.

I could just as easily root for the Boston Red Sox, or the New England Patriots. They are at least in a pennant race or playoff every year. I get “Meaningful games” hopefully in April: then it goes down hill from there!

Well, no more baseball. No more sitting for 9 innings and openly sobbing, wringing my hands and trying not to call them what I think they really are. I’m going to go for some therapy, some help and have my head examined, once the World Series is over. Maybe I’ll wait for the end of Spring Training, I think Johann Santana is back pitching.

THE CAST OF CHARACTERS

One of the things about getting older is the memory storage bin you have, and how much fun it is to pick through it all.

In the Bushwick section of Brooklyn where I came from, there lived a great many characters, some were nice, some not so nice: all were colorful.

It seems the streets were a lot larger than they are to day, and the people loomed even larger. They made a statement in my mind, and all lived day to day.

There was John the vegetable store man. John was a cranky old man, gruff, large and mean. His store smelled and so did he. His saving grace was he was an easy target for 7 year olds. His store spilled out onto the sidewalk and his fruits and vegetables were always fresh. He often eyed me with suspicion since I was one of the little “Bastards” that stole his wooden basket covers and used them as shields in sword fights that we all played. He would swear at me in Italian as I ran by, causing him to give chase.

There was the “Crazy Lady” who lived down the street. She would walk down our end of the block, holding out her skirt and stopping from garbage can to garbage can, and look inside each! My older sister Tess (Much older) would say she was looking for her husband!

There was the couple that lived across the street from me on the top floor. They would sit all day long looking out their window. Usually these windows that faced the street were bedroom windows, so they got the name “the Lampshades”. Once, my friend Anthony and I staged a fight for their benefit, causing them to leave their windows to come downstairs and break it up. The problem was that when they left their ‘station’ we disappeared from the stage!

On the corner of the street stood a bar. The had three entrances, one on the east, and one on the south of the building, and one on the corner of the two sides, next door to Sloppy John’s vegetable store. We would load up our cap guns, run into the bar, guns blazing while the owner would pick up the same language the sloppy John used: “Get outta here ya little bastards!”

When we got home, not a word was ever mentioned. Mom and Dad had no idea their child exhibited such anti-social behavior, and if they ever knew, well, you would probably be not reading this now!

WHEN YOU’RE GOOD!

As I was drifting off to No Man’s Land (a nap), the phone suddenly came to life, shattering my calm and my happiness. It was only 2:45 pm so the day wasn’t a total lost yet: there was still time to catch up.

Reaching for the phone, I wondered who it could be on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of a heat wave. Could it be Publisher’s Clearing House, telling me I won $10 Million, #2 Son calling from the Netherland’s telling me he had eloped, or maybe it was someone inviting me to dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Del Bloggolo?”

“Yes”

“Hi, this is Serena Richardson from Seamless Seal, we did your driveway last year.”

“Yes?”

“We were wondering if you’d like to have it done again?”

“Oh!, Naw… you guys did such a great job, I don’t need it.”

“?!!! Oh!?”

Next thing you know, my barber will call after giving me a haircut, to ask me if I want another one!

I’ve been getting a lot of phone calls from charities lately, and frankly, I hate to say “NO” like I do with solicitors, the guilt takes over.  So I devised a new way to deal with it. I mean how much can you give, before they are all at your doorstep or on your phone?

“Hello, Mr. Del Bloggolo?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, my name is Kathy, and I’m with Wives Against Flatulence, and we are collecting donations to send a wife to the country, would you be willing to help out?”

“OK, I’ll help out if you are willing to give to the AHRC Suffolk Chapter to help children and adults with developmental disabilities.”

“Oh! Well… er… I can’t do that over the phone.”

“Neither can I.”