THE DEVIL MAKES ME DO IT!

Every now and then evil rears its ugly head.

We left church, and went to our favorite diner one Sunday morning for breakfast.

IF THERE IS ONE THING I HATE, IT IS RUG RATS IN A RESTAURANT WHERE I AM EXPECTING A QUIET AND PEACEFUL MEAL.

As they say in Brooklyn: “Furgeddaboutit!”

The day had started out with my deciding to tweak the pastor’s self-righteousness by wearing a Boston Red Sox cap. He is an avid Yankee fan (The model for the Nazi Party), desecrating his office with NY Yankee pennants on the walls.

Going to Mass that morning, I put the hat on the seat in view of the pulpit, hoping it would get his attention, and maybe annoy him. Turns out: the guy was away on vacation, from what I don’t know, he gets everything paid for and then a salary! Works for less than an hour, Monday through Thursdays, off Friday and most of Saturday, gets to hear juicy gossip in the confessional, and puts in a half day for him on Sundays. Any additional work like funerals and weddings he gets paid extra for!

I sit in the diner and sure enough, the waitress brings in these grandparents with two rug rats. You can always tell when the kids are going to be trouble, they carry toys to occupy them and that is supposed to make them quiet.

The brats are whining and they haven’t sat down yet. One of them stands in the booth and faces me. I stick my tongue out at him, and he drops down. TLW (The Little Woman) is blocking the grandmother’s view of me, so she can’t see me, and the grandfather, battered and shell-shocked from both the kids and the old lady is facing in the same direction I am, so he can’t see me either.

The kid pops his head up again, and again I give him the tongue. (No, not the finger, I have some class) Speaking of class, I had removed my hat when we entered the diner.

Next to us, across the aisle in another booth sits a young couple, and she is wearing a Yankee cap. I decided to don my Red Sox cap and see if I could get a reaction from her. No bite, not even a nibble. Darn, what is wrong with Yankee fans today? Then it dawns on me, they lost to the Red Sox the night before old C. C. Sabbatia was shellacked once again by the Sox.

So what did I end up with? One brat who wouldn’t look at me any more, one pastor in Vegas no less, and a shell-shocked, demoralized Yankee fan. None of these people could help and make my day!

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WHAT NOW?

Recently I discovered I have sleep apnea. I didn’t even know what it is until #1 Son brought it home one day and I caught it. Seems it is hereditary. Someone in my family had it and passed it down to me.

TLW (The Little Woman) told me one night I fell asleep, stopped breathing and woke up. I think the stopped breathing happened with her hands around my throat, but she denies it.

So off I went to a sleep study, failed miserably since I went home tired after the test and then went for an evaluation of the test study. A beautiful young doctor interviewed me, with these incredible green eyes, and beautiful face, dressed like a college student being nerdy.

“Do you have trouble at night constantly waking up?”

“Not really, falling asleep yes, maybe once no more than twice a night, if I do fall asleep, but when I do I toss and turn for hours.”

“Are your legs restless?”

“No, arthritis will keep me from falling asleep.”

“Do you talk in your sleep?”

“No, I’m afraid I’ll interrupt TLW!”

“Do you WALK in your sleep?”

“No, I’d call a cab.”

“Well what you have is sleep apnea, and you have 47 incidents an hour! You know it is hereditary.”

I go home and tell TLW the news.

“I wonder who I got it from, probably my father.”

“Oh, just ask your mother, she’ll tell you it comes from your father’s side.”

“Hmmm, that’s true, she would. All my bad habits come from his side according to her, #1 Son said I got it from him!”

I know, you can’t inherit anything from your children, so I think it may also be contagious, I could have very well gotten it from TLW! After all is said and done, she gives me colds, children and things to do, so why not this?

DON’T LOOK TOO HARD…

DON’T LOOK TOO HARD…

You may find something!

Recently, after hurricane Irene, I had a little time to kill and decided to see what lay behind our bedroom side tables, with the double doors. I never go into them, so this was going to be an adventure and maybe treasure hunt for me.

Getting down on my knees, I opened the doors and inside was some manila envelopes, and some interesting albums. Reaching for the thick white album, I immediately realized it was my wedding album.

Slowly I turned the pages of 40 years ago, and suddenly I was living in the past once again, remembering the old days. The bride was beautiful, too beautiful for the groom, who resembled Woody Allen with his thick black-framed glasses that were the rage of the early ‘70’s. Paging through, I saw my grandmother, parents, family and friends, all gathered to wish the newly wedded couple luck in their lives. Closing the album, a thinner one with a blue cover sat ready for my inspection. The cover gave it away somewhat since it said: ”It’s a boy!”

In the cover was a sheet that had a baby’s footprints and mom’s thumb print.

“Ah!” thought I, it was from when #1 Son was born. There was no name on the paper, so I decided to go through the book and read about #1 Son. The memories started to roll, quickly, like coming attractions in a movie theatre: the baseball and basketball games, the games of catch in the yard, the fun at the kitchen table as we joked and I told stories and he laughed.

Then I started to turn the page and the birth date caught my eye. Something was wrong, the birthday was wrong. It read 4/6/79! A knife immediately pierced my chest, taking all the air from my lungs and leaving me numb once again. Those little footprints belonged to my son Joseph, the book was 32 years old, and there were no memories to fill it with. Just like the last sentence’s period, the period this time was loud and resounding, echoing the fact that it was an empty book, and a very short life it noted. There was even a little envelope attached to a page that said: “A lock of baby’s hair”. I lifted the flap to peek inside, and it too was empty. The pain increased and I was forced to close the book and put it away.

I drifted to the piano and toyed the keys, playing a melancholic melody, which I had no control over, and then realized: the world was waiting. I needed to laugh once more, and maybe make someone else laugh, even at my expense.

You know, basically I love to live and laugh, poking fun of myself is easy, and it doesn’t hurt anyone, but behind it all seems to be a big fat hurt, that says: “Don’t go looking too hard, you may not want to find anything.”

BITTERSWEET

I stood in the funeral parlor, and gazed down at an old friend. We knew each other from our years spent together at an old company, and now it was time to say goodbye. My mind drifted to those years past, a calmness overcoming my mind in a serene setting. It seemed like he was telling me, “I’m done passing through this world, with all its pain and anguish. I’ll see you someday on the other side.”

Suddenly from behind, this arm gently wrapped around my shoulders, it too saying: “I’m sorry Joe, but he left ME so too soon! It will be alright.”

It was of course his widow, the woman he was leaving behind, the one person who loved and cared for him. I looked into her eyes, and I could see the hurt and pain, I could feel the sorrow and disappointment.

“He left me on our anniversary!”

I tried to get the words up to say how horrific it was, how it could not be possible, how sorry I truly was. I said nothing, but I think she understood. I mentioned how we first met, the day seemed etched in my mind, it was over 29 years ago, but I saved the memory, I guess, for this moment.

As we hugged, my mouth started a flow of words, and gently I expanded the story, jogging her memory of sweet days gone by, of little details that seemed to dress my memories, give them validity and finality and a gentle laughter started to pour from her lips, her eyes lighting up, and soon we were deep sweet conversation.

Suddenly this sweet white haired little old lady came up to us, her Mom, and suggested that maybe I should move on because there was a long line suddenly building behind us to pay their respects!

It’s never easy to go to a funeral parlor or visit the bereaved, I mean, what can you say? How do you cut away their grief, how do you make it easy to discuss something so sad as a death?  Maybe that little bit of reminder from her Mom was symbolic of a message we do need to convey: Yes, it is ok to move on: life is waiting in the wings.

MR. GEIGER I PRESUME? Part 2

Well the committee once again got its act together as we set out for our cruise, and of course we needed one important part of the class of ’64. That component came in the person of Mr. Ken Geiger and his widow, the lovely Nancy.

If you look back to: http://delbloggolo.blogspot.com/search?q=GEIGER you will read Part 1 of the Ken Geiger story, and the joy when one of our classmates resurrected him and restored him back to life! 

What no one knew but everyone suspected, Mr. Geiger (Ken as we called him when he was alive) is a real cutup! As you can witness in the photo, he leaves no opportunity to mug before a camera. In fact, we found out later that the reason why the ship photographer was missing through most of the cruise is because he was tied up in Ken’s room, shooting one-handed pictures of Mr. Geiger! Obviously Mr. Geiger had to book the next cruise out to review all the photos on the wall on the 4^th deck! (Someone was wondering why he was bringing back food to his room.)

Well, we had a great time, having the balance of silliness and fun with memories and great conversations with Mr. Geiger, Nancy and the gang. We hope to bring him back (After sunset) for another excursion or two, or maybe some kind of reunion to satisfy the mad appetites of the class. Thank goodness I show some restraint.

 

SETTING SAIL

It started early in the morning of the Class of ’64 Cruise to Canada. The phone started ringing as classmates called for info to give and to get. Excitement was felt as the day had finally come.

Soon fellow travel mates started to arrive and things were for real. Princess Pat of Foxwood Points and the Wanna-Be-Bank and Truss Company, and her husband Bill, Pat and My Cousin Vinnie, and Pam my business partner of Russell’s Tour & Event Planning also arrived to park their cars and wait for the mini bus for 24 passengers to arrive.

Soon we were on our way, and as I stepped onto the bus I had the feeling that I was transported back into 1964, boarding the bus after a long weekend, as all my classmates greeted me. The whole crew and spouses were there, Michelle and Nick, Judy Hunter, Sista Tangerina, Aggie Toronto, Joanne ‘Z’ Zukowski, and Joanne Tew. Yes, 2 Joanne’s: Joanne One and Joanne Tew!

We picked up the long lost Mr. Geiger and his lovely wife Nancy, who did wonders straightening him out to fly right! We were heading for the boat! Not so fast! In fact slow up. Oh, we started out like: BATS OUT OF HELL AND WIND UP AS BATS HANGING FROM THE CAVE WALLS! The biggest traffic jam in LIE history decided to take place to initiate our trip.

We decided to liven up the trip while we suffered the fluctuating temperatures of the bus from Arctic to sub tropic ranges. It seems Sista Tanj had to relate a story, which in itself was not important as much as her poor choice of words. I managed to get her to talk about it to the whole bus. It seems the reaction to a story she was hearing at a lunch with fellow students made her react by saying the following: “You sure he wasn’t giving you a blowjob?” What she wanted to say was: “You sure he wasn’t giving you a snow job?”

It seems all through that particular luncheon, she kept repeating: “Boy, I’m sure glad Joe isn’t here!” If I was there, she was afraid I might write about it on the blog! I guess she was just lucky.

TOMORROW: “MR. GEIGER, I PRESUME?”

GOODBYE TO SOME GOOD GUYS!

I have been down since yesterday. It seems that my past is taking another hit.

A few days ago I learned about a sweet woman, one I mentioned in a blog a while ago, and today is her birthday (3/23), who passed on from cancer. Her name is Marlene: she was a lady, a woman of substance, and a class act, my classmate. We called her Molly after her Mom, because we were crazy high school kids, doing crazy things. I last saw her in June of 2010, at a diner with her husband and TLW (The Little Woman) for breakfast. We met because I was helping TLP (The Little Partner) Pam, preserve some photos, and Marlene did TLP a favor by bringing them to me while Marlene was visiting one of her children in my hometown.

On June 12th, 2010, I wrote about Marlene, and our last visit. The last paragraph went like this:

“We talked about classmates, who looked good and who did what and lived where, and as we left the restaurant and stood in the parking lot for one last; “Goodbye”, I stuck my arm out one more time, and she pinched. It was an enjoyable reprimand from a lovely lady!”

She pinched me at the memorial for classmates that had passed on, and for our high school that burned to the ground one awful day back in March of 1963, a day that changed a lot of my classmates and myself.  Marlene pinched me and I asked her why. “For all those times you teased me back in high school” she said. So every time I saw her I stuck my arm out for her to pinch me one more time.

At the diner that Saturday morning: she and TLW chatted and seemed like old high school buddies themselves, having gone to two different high schools. We lingered long after breakfast in the restaurant and then in the parking lot.

She soon got sick with the cancer that eventually took her.

We will never get together again, no breakfast in a diner, no dinner at my home, I am sorry that she is no longer here. I wish I could feel her pinch one more time.

But this blog does not end here.

Yesterday I got an email from an old co-worker from an old company, informing me that another fellow co-worker I particularly enjoyed and liked knowing had died suddenly of a massive heart attack! His name was Spin, that’s what we called him, but his real name was Elliott. I first met Spin back in 1981, while he was delivering the office mail I believe, or some kind of documents through the creative department. The company filmed a TV commercial, and Spin appeared briefly in it. I kidded him that I was going to be his agent, and we would make money on his talents. Spin then ran into some terrible luck, getting an aneurism in his brain, which left him confined to wheelchair and incapable of working. There he would be the rest of his life.

Often I would find Spin on the Internet on Facebook, where he was always doing one of those projects, a farm a building, whatever, and I would chat with him. He would comment on my pictures. I would chat with him, and he would ask that I be patient with him since he could only type slowly. Whenever I saw Jan, I would ask about Spin, and her beautiful eyes would light up and tell me details.

After the shock of realizing Spin had passed, I immediately thought of his lovely wife Jan, a woman who spent all her free time with Spin. They would take an annual vacation to Disney World in Orlando, and she adored, took care of and love Spin until the moment he no longer was alive. I know she will continue to carry Spin in her heart, and will do it with much love and reverence for him.

Goodbye guys, I will miss you both.

CRISIS, CRISIS, CRISIS!

Being on the Carnival Glory, you do get a sense of being away from the world. You could be on the moon for all you know, since there is nothing surrounding you but ocean. A sense of relief comes over you until you look up. There, larger than life sits a massive TV screen, tuned in to the Communist News Network (CNN). What you hope to get away from comes at you big time, and before you know it, you are being sucked into the world of ugliness once again.

The week of August 22 to August 27 was filled with constant breaking news! The ongoing revolution in Libya, where Khadafy was on the fly, to the earthquake in Virginia, where it was felt all the way into NY, news was flooding the airwaves. Then there was the threat of hurricane Irene, looming ever so large as we started to head to port. Starting out as tropical storm, it grew to the size of Texas, then Europe, and promising devastation to the whole Eastern Seaboard of the US!

In the beginning of the cruise, we hardly noticed the occasional rock of the boat, but once the news that Irene was for real, we started to notice every little creak, every little normal sway the big ship would take, magnifying it in our minds, thinking: “It’s hurricane Irene!”

Then the wind picked up to the point that we could not go topside to the upper most deck, because the wind was so strong. I went to the railing on the next highest deck to look out and enjoy the sea, and thought I better take off my glasses, for fear that they would blow off and go into the water, and I would be walking around like Mr. McGee! Sponges were floating by, and I could see large fish or whales under the waves swimming by the ship. A sense of excitement was overtaking my simple mind, but I was enjoying every bit of it. I always wondered what it felt like to be at sea in a storm on a large ship, the dangers outside of the ship opposed to the security and safe haven of the ship itself. I really would have loved to witness the ships bow crashing into the waves and riding up and down, spraying the air and disappearing once again under the waves. I can’t help but think of the opening scene in the book Shogun.

As we came closer to New York, the news about Irene became all consuming to everyone on board, as rumors started flying, and the news that we would put into port sooner to discharge all the passengers earlier than they planned. Not only was the discharge earlier, but also the procedure was changed to help expedite getting us off sooner. But why the rush, the hurricane was not due to hit until the next day? Because they the cruise line wished to get the ship ready for the next cruise, where they were heading out to sea that very afternoon, to ride the waves of the storm! Yes, if you were going on the next cruise, you were going in the hurricane, and were leaving two hours earlier to boot.

Entering NY harbor, at 6 am, we saw the city at it’s best, lit up like a woman going to a formal occasion, bejeweled in lights so fantastic, and buildings so majestic, as the “BIG TIME” city that does indeed; “Never sleep” welcomed us back to America.

WHEN THE HELL DO WE BOARD?

One thing I like is to be able to have control in unfamiliar circumstances. Sometimes that won’t happen. As we piled out of the mini bus, the Class of ’64 needed to check in their luggage before boarding the boat. This is on the NYC Pier for the Carnival Cruise line. As we gathered around the porters, one of the porters starts to ask for a $2 fee for taking our bags. In the confusion of getting there, and the excitement of the big ship looming behind in the background, we gave him the money! We did not have to, and in fact if you travel Carnival, do not pay this crook.

We were heading for the boat! Not so fast! In fact slow up. Oh, we started out like: BATS OUT OF HELL AND WIND UP AS BATS HANGING FROM THE CAVE WALLS!  (Did you read that somewhere before, recently?)

Ushered into an elevator, we were herded into different lines, lines that ran continuously side-to-side to reach a certain point to register. The building was enormous: with high ceilings and large poles, all painted blue. The Class of ’64 was scattered, in different parts of the lines, and in different sections! On all the blue poles was painted with the #1. My cell phone rang, it was Pam, later to be known as Miss Pa Mella (Another story). “Where are you?” My response was a clear: “Under a blue pole marked #1” A second call: “Where are you now?” My response, a dishonest: “I’m fiddling with the door key to my stateroom!” I was miles away from there. It took almost 1 and ½ hours to go through the line! Either the security precautions are really taking over, or they just don’t know how to organize.

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As we waited on the line, my partner, Miss Pa Mella flips my the “L” sign as she goes by to board the boat!

A STRANGER IN THE NIGHT

As I sat in my chair, I started to doze off, and TLW (The Little Woman) admonished me.

“JOE! You really want to stay awake.”

Being it was 8:30 PM, I got a bowl of ice cream to wake me up a little, but I was beat from a long day, and the day was nowhere near over. At 9:00 PM I planned to drive to my local sleep center for a sleep study. It seems TLW thinks I have sleep apnea.

As I drove in the dark to the center, a storm was blowing in; complete with thunder, lightning and wind, and in the dark it seemed ominous to say the least. Although no rain had fallen yet, you could smell it coming.

Arriving, I entered the old 1726 building and checked in with the technician (Teckie) for short. Teckie, like one of those old Dracula movies led me to my room.

I filled out about 5 pages of questions, signed it and waited for Techie to return. As I wait, to amuse myself, I start looking into the drawers and on the shelves and just snooping from boredom. Techie reappears and suggests to me that I should go to the toilet before we begin so we can deal with a full night’s sleep, not interrupting the study, but if I did need to again, he showed me a button that would get him and he would unhook the paraphernalia.

30 electrodes are connected to my legs, body and head! Wires are coming out of the kazoo almost, and I wonder how much of a good idea this is. Never having been a good sleeper, I was concerned.

Techie tucks me in and in my Jamie bottoms, I try to fall asleep, it is 10:15 PM.

By 12:30 I fall asleep, discovering: Yes, you CAN turn on your side without getting electrocuted, and you can do that at 1:30, 2:30, 3:30, and 4:30 AM as well, the circular ring around the camera lens, not withstanding.

Teckie joins me and begins the process of disconnecting me from the electro world of sleep study, tearing off the little sensors that are taped and glued to my hairy legs, chest and head (not so hairy, follicle challenged would be a better description). He leaves and I get dressed, and peek out the test room door, and on my right is a bank of about 9 monitors, one of which is my room. So much for snooping, good thing I’m honest!

Leaving the sleep center, I realize just how tired I am, and wonder if they really got any results from the test!

Well, I going for a little nap, see you later.

P.S. I have to go back in a week for the results, and I'm afraid that will keep me awake at nights!

MAGNET

Some people just have a knack for it. Some people have to acquire it through hard work. And some people like #3 Sister Mary Ann, it just falls at their feet!

#3 is a flight attendant on JetBlue, she does those silly things before takeoff, pointing to exit doors and pretending something fell out of the cabin ceiling, telling you to put yours on before your kids get theirs.

But #3 has provided a new service for JetBlue customers, she is a revivalist, not a hallelujah kind, she knocks you off your feet, and then brings you back to life! Funny thing is if you meet her, she is a beautiful gal who could knock any man off his feet, but insists on flying high and having beautiful grandchildren.

 

Recently #3 inside of a few days had developed her reputation on two separate flights. The first one involved a drunk, who passed out, falling against her back on a red eye flight, and her scream woke up all the sleeping passengers, then because she believes that once you do it, you gotta do it again, a passenger on a subsequent flight passes out from a heart condition on a subsequent flight, right on her feet!

MARIOOCH, WHAT’S GOING ON?

To quote her from FaceBook:

“Another exciting day in the air...less than 72 hours from the last one. Some guy 30 years old walking towards the lav in the back, as I am coming up the aisle, passes out and falls at my feet. Got him to come to....emergency medical landing..turns out the guy has a heart condition. The crew nicknamed me "magnet" in light of the fact that 2 people manage to pass out on me in less than 72 hours...I'm exhausted and feeling the affects of all this”

 

Maybe it is something in the water? Maybe your demo was exhilarating and passengers are euphoric from learning what the possibilities are if they crash?

 

If you ever decide to fly JetBlue, (which DelBloggolo endorse as the best in the business before they hired sis) and as you arrive at the airport not feeling so well? Just Ask for #3’s flight, tell her: her brother sent you.

THE RESOLUTION

It happened every year, the start of the school year I was resolved to NOT draw in the margins of my notebooks, NOT have to re-write my notes that needed to be handed in for a grade, and to attack each subject with zeal, vigor and dedication.

By the second day, I had drawings with technique that I had not tried before, drawings of teachers and classmates, and torn out pages for love notes to girl friends!

Of course, I would vow, the next notebook would be the neat one. Yes indeed, the next one would be it. Pristine and by golly neat!

Then there was the text book issue, of covering the books with brown craft paper, with all the folds, and nothing on it but the name of the book, neatly written in pencil. I would look at the finished product, and realize: The penciled in name of the book doesn’t really pop! So I get some colorful pens, usually one of those all-in-one pens that have a black, blue, red, and green ink cartridge all in one barrel. But what’s a book cover without a little color and illustration? But the next book cover, ah, that would be neat and clean, with nothing on it, just wait and see.

Of course clothes were always new. New shirts, pants, shoes, sneakers for Gym and gym uniforms, all new, the start of the school year came every year.  I would take care of them all, the gym clothes coming home on the last day of the week of class.

After a few weeks, when you opened my gym locker, there stood my shirt, shorts and what have you standing up straight, next to the socks, which stood tall too. The what have you probably never went home until June, in which I would just take it out to the back yard and bury it, then spend the summer listening to Dad wonder why the grass was dying in that particular area of the yard! 

Mom would periodically ask: “Did you bring your gym clothes home?” Then she started to say: “BRING YOUR GYM CLOTHES HOME SO I CAN WASH THEM!” To finally, “Please don’t bring those smelly things home without putting them in a bag!” Mom’s nose knew.  

In my old dotage, I have been on a tear, resolute in my beliefs that things need to be straightened up, fixed and categorized, in other words, I will be organized.  I fear something is wrong with me, I haven’t strayed from the plan yet, but with your prayers and good wishes maybe, just maybe something will get me off track.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

THE MARRIAGE REF

As an on-going public service to you dear reader, DelBloggolo is recommending a TV show called: “The Marriage Ref.” After all the reality and CSI shows, this is a hilarious welcomed relief.

Basically, the show has a panel of three comedians, and couples come to duke it out. Then the comedians decide who they think is right, but the audience ultimately decides the winner.

For instance: TLW (The Little Woman) and I would come on and we would present our case.

TLW: “He is always turning the heat down on me and putting on the A.C., and this goes on four months out of the year. Doesn’t even tell me he is doing it, forcing me to get a blanket and/or sweater!”

Me: “We argue like this every year for four months out of the year, from June to September!”

Being married for over 40 years, we can carry that show for many years.

TLW: “I like to fix things, even if they don’t need fixing. My mother had her own tool drawer and now I have mine!”

Me: “Her tool draw consists of a screw driver from 1946 with a splintered wooden handle, that she uses along with an old butter knife. Once she changed a battery in a car while I was at work. Turns out it was the wrong size, and although it worked, I couldn’t ever take it out of the car because she had wedged it in!”

Of course I’m at fault too, putting the spoon on the wrong side of the dish, stuff like that. She says I exaggerate, which is a lot of bunk, if she’s said it once she said it 40,000,000 times!

Sometimes we do argue, I’ll say the sky is blue, and she’ll say it is green. “Yes dear, of course, you’re right!”

I’ll say I’m hungry, she will say: “No you’re not!” “Yes dear, of course, you’re right!”

So if you can, try to watch the show, and get a great insight into whether you or your spouse is the one that is right!

WHY DO I ASK?

I saw an ad on the TV for a law firm, advertising that you can sue now if you get bladder cancer and you take Actos. I use it because my doctor prescribes it for me.

Off I went to Dr. Strangeview for my annual physical, and afterward thought I’d pose the question about the commercial.

“I told the witch doctor I was in love with you
I told the witch doctor you didn't love me too
And then the witch doctor, he told me what to do

Me; “Doctor, I saw on the TV that Actos can cause bladder cancer, is that a fact, and should I continue to take it if true?”

He said that ....

“Ooo eee, ooo ah ah ting tang
Walla walla, bing bang
Ooo eee, ooo ah ah ting tang
Walla walla, bing bang...
Ooo eee, ooo ah ah ting tang
Walla walla, bing bang
Ooo eee, ooo ah ah ting tang
Walla walla, bing bang”

No, he didn’t say that exactly, but said that all medications, when you read the little paper with the little bitty type, say that all kinds of things can happen, you can even die!

“I told the witch doctor you didn't love me true
I told the witch doctor you didn't love me nice
And then the witch doctor, he game me this advice
He said to ...

Don’t go by what the lawyers say, they are destroying the medical profession, to the point that I may have to give up my practice, it is so expensive!”

“Now, you've been keeping love from me
Just like you were a miser
And I'll admit I wasn't very smart
So I went out and found myself
A guy that's so much wiser
And he taught me the way to win your heart”

He then proceeded to give me an example:

“Let’s say you own a car. (I think a jaguar he means)

Now you drive that thing to get you somewhere. If you or the car malfunctions, you can die.  Does that mean you shouldn’t drive a car?” (I think a jaguar he means)

“My friend the witch doctor, he taught me what to say
My friend the witch doctor, he taught me what to do
I know that you'll be mine when I say this to you
Oh, Baby ....”

Then he decided I needed more comparisons and one after another, until he finished writing my prescriptions, drawing analogies, one after another.

“So I may have to give up this business because the lawyers are thinking of no one but themselves, to make money! I may some day have to stop, Some day, maybe.”

I doubt that, gas is high to fill a Jaguar with. He may have to cut back to a Mercedes, but he will hang on.

Next time I go to Dr.Strangeview, I’m going to talk politics, and at least he can only go one so much, the election will be over by then!

EH? YOU SPEAKA ITALIANO?

Growing up in Brooklyn in the 50’s was an education in itself. The learning on the streets about such things as the origination of Brooklyn (According to one 7 year old friend it came from a big brick someone found laying around) to the crazy lady down the street who would peek into garbage cans (Looking for her husband, as the legend goes, according to Tessie, my older sister – much older).



Rumors ran wild about teachers and nuns and brothers that taught us by smacking us around until we got it right, or the private life of Sam the owner of the corner candy store. All of this was an education in itself. But there was another education I got from my parents and relatives and Italian neighbors!

“Speak softly love and hold me warm against your heart
I feel your words the tender trembling moment start
We're in a world, our very own
Sharing a love that only few have ever known”

It was not enough to grow up a Brooklynite; you also grew up with an ethnic identity to complete your personality. Italian, Jewish, Irish and German were predominately the cultures, then came the black and Puerto Rican influx, all contributing to the fabric of Brooklyn.

There were two basic Italians in the neighborhood: Neapolitan and Sicilian. I would think they co-existed in the hood in equal numbers.

“Wine colored days warmed by the sun
Deep velvet nights, when we are one

Speak softly love so no one hears us but the sky
The vows of love we make we'll live until we die
My life is yours, and all because
You came into my world with love so softly love”



You could say you were Italian, but that would only invite a question: What kind?



“You Italian???”



“Yup”



“Sicilian?”



“Nope”



Napolitano?”



“Yup”



“Thought so.”

“Wine colored days warmed by the sun
Deep velvet nights, when we are one

Speak softly love so no one hears us but the sky
The vows of love we make we'll live until we die
My life is yours, and all because
You came into my world with love
So softly love “

But even there, you had to explain it further.

What town? Of course if you were Sicilian you carried a knife, were a gangster, from Bari meant you ate cats, Calabria meant you had a hard head.

The issue of speech was a big one too. Each of the Neapolitan and Sicilian cultures had their own dialect, and people had trouble understanding each other. But say the Italian words: “Alto Italiano” (Classy Italian), and they all got up on their high horses to deliberate.

There was one way to resolve any issue amongst the multitudes: at the dinner table, a glass of wine raise: “qui è a voi” and all is forgiven, after all, you are Italian, no?

BERT AND ERNIE! WHO KNEW?

Last month on the nearly morning news was a story about a movement on the Internet to have those two beloved puppets, Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street get married.

Now let me state that if two people want to get married, it is indeed their business, not mine, I don’t judge, I don’t care. Like I said in the past, as long as I don’t miss a meal I’m fine with it.

Way back in the 60’s, when my beautiful niece Laurie Ann was a child, her and her childish Uncle would sit in front of the TV when Uncle had no class that afternoon at college and Laurie was visiting Nana with her mom, Tess. (My older sister, much older)

We would sit in front of the TV while Nana and Tessie organized the world downstairs. Laurie and I learned to count to ten and to read letters. I must say at first I was a little better at it than Laurie, but then once she learned how to talk she kind of jumped ahead of me!

Anyway, one of the parts of Sesame Street we both loved was Burt and Ernie, those two wild and crazy puppets. At the end of the day, the Sesame Street people after filming would put both Burt and Ernie away in some closet for the day.

Well, both Burt and Ernie are coming out of the closet! This is no joke, and not just another show: this is the BIG show, marriage! Needless to say, there is a whole lot of handwringing going on. The main issue is whether we should introduce to young children the idea of same sex puppet marriage. Will this confuse everybody at a young age?

If I can get close enough to a rug rat, I think I’d love to have one of my cracked reporters from DelBloggolo interview the little darlings to find out their thoughts about the whole thing. I particularly would like to know their views on homosexuality, and marriage between same sex puppets.

I see Pulitzer in my future.

You go into the closet for a pair of shoes and come out with a pair of puppets!

SMILE, I’M ON CANDID CAMERA!

The bastards! They found other ways to get my money!

I was driving #2 Son to work. As usual he was running late and I had to make up the difference. In front of me was this truck driven by Jose’ El Gato and his co-mower Miguel, for the Nonorinisume Lawn Service and Catering.

In front of the truck was a long line of cars, waiting to make a left hand turn. The red light turned green and the moron in the front took his time in moving. By the time I got into the intersection, the light was turning red again! I had to chance going through, the truck blocked my view of the light, and the dog ate my homework!

A few weeks pass and I get the mail. Only one thing in the mail, a traffic ticket! The bastards gave me a ticket for going through a red light!

TLW (The Little Woman) comes home from work.

“Any mail?”

“Nah, nothing.” It’s a Friday, so why ruin her pizza dinner. I wait for Sunday morning after all, I’m paying for her eggs over easy, bacon and rye toast, she can’t yell at me.

In the diner that following Sunday I lean over my scramble eggs with French fries extra crispy and come clean.

“I got a ticket.”

“Oh!”

Her reply takes me by surprise.

“Yes, I went and paid it with a credit card, on line. They give you a web site to see yourself doing the bad thing. There I was , watching myself break the law. I thought; you criminal you!”

“Is that it?”

 Sheepishly: “Yes!”

“Pay the bill so I can get out of here.”

“Don’t tell my mother, please.”