I TAKE WHAT LITTLE I CAN GET!

Ona better day

After my first visit to the hospital to visit my daughter with the procedures that are now in place because of the COVID-19, the thought of having to go through it seems discouraging. You get online and someone takes your temperature, asks questions, and if you pass muster are given a paper sticker that says you have been screened and the date is hand-written on it. Then you wait some more as the competency level of the people you must now deal with varies from very competent and accommodating to total incompetence, holding up the line of people. Then I think about my daughter and the fact that she is so sick she doesn’t know I am there. But despite it all, I need to see my daughter.

Finally, I am on my way up to the 4th floor and the ICU where I am greeted by a plastic wall with a zipper I need to use to enter her room. A nurse greets me and tells me she was waiting for me and that I need to don a gown and gloves, along with my mask. I do as I’m told and enter, and there lies my daughter Ellen, an oxygen tube running from her nose while she is soundly asleep, and her mouth agape.

As I inch closer to her bedside, I see all the machinery that she is connected to, the numbers and progress lines lighting up the screens, monitoring, and keeping the staff informed of her physical being. She looks helpless, vulnerable, and sick and all I want to do is reach into the bed and hold her, telling her I love her that I will always love her that I wish I had her suffering and she was free to laugh and giggle once more. It hurts that I can’t do it.

Suddenly, she starts to move, her eyes still shut as she maneuvers the dark world of infections from unknown origin, restrictions of her hands so she won’t pull out the different pick-lines, and intravenous that invades her body. I look at her and I want to cry.

As she moves slightly, I call her name… “Ellen… pussycat… hey, it’s daddy!” Suddenly she hears me as her eyes flutter open, a soft smile crosses her lips, and acknowledgment of my presence. With great trouble, she lifts her head turning in my direction and opens her eyes a little. We have connected, for the first time since March 7th! My last visit to her at the hospital was two-days ago without any recognition or interaction.

I ask her how she is, I tell her I love her and that she is my baby. “You my baby?” She does something she hasn’t done in a while as she plays off those words and shakes her head ‘No’ just as she always did in the past. “You love me?” she smiles. “Are you a good girl?’ She smiles, “Do you love me?” She shakes her head ‘no’, but she is smiling. Suddenly my world is turned upside down, I forget about all the inconvenience that occurred to get to her room and am glad I did it. Her smiling at me, her shaking her head, her looking at me transforms my mood from one of despair to one of overwhelming joy. I won’t leave her while this is going on, even if I have to stay until the next day! It is special!

Then, just as suddenly as it occurs, she drifts off to sleep once more. I realize that I don’t want to make her upset, that if she is asleep, she won’t see me leaving her, making it easier for her and me. And so I remove the protection of the gown and gloves and quietly slip away into the rainy afternoon, but my heart is filled with the sunshine she has given me, and her greatest gift to me ever, her smile.

GETTING THE EYE BACK

With all that is going on and my need to write, I have been neglecting one of my passions in life, drawing. If you do like I did and stop for a while, then you can lose the eye that you need to draw. There was a book called ‘THE NATURAL WAY TO DRAW’ by Nickelaides (sic) and what it taught was that you placed your pencil down on the paper and you follow the object with your eye, never looking at the paper. This of course led to some very disjointed drawing but very beautiful line movement and composition that took you out of the realm of reality.

So a couple of weeks ago I took out my easel and propped a drawing pad on it and began to draw. The first drawing was not a happy result for me, so I decided I had to go back to the basics, and instead of drawing right away, I studied. I looked at the details of the subject matter, the relationship or juxtaposition of one element to another, and then drew, and I had some good results!

Drawing is a lot like life in that if you want to understand, you need to study the whole element. You need to know what you are looking at an what you are searching for, the results should be understandable, and how you get there is not as important as getting the truth.

Listening to the news and reading the newspapers every day, so much is thrown at you that you just accept it and move on, instead of looking for the veracity of the so-called ‘facts’ as they are presented to you.

Recently I discussed with an avid Trump supporter, accusing Democrats of name-calling, claiming she was not a racist and very open-minded, then proceeded to criticize people for their beliefs and calling them homosexuals if they didn’t agree with her. She is a very stupid person, hypocritical and so badly racist, misinformed, and unable to think for, herself.

Fortunately for me, I can select my subject matter and conclude, and the best conclusion to draw is to stay away from stupid people.

FIGHTING BOREDOM

With the restrictions of the pandemic, the day can go by slowly if you are not busy doing something. The need to pass time away is all-consuming and sad. To think we are wasting our lives sitting home and yet, so are we saving them by doing so.

One of the better things to do is to call people you haven’t heard from and catch up with their lives, it keeps you in the loop and it is something fresh.

For me, I’m lucky. I have a lot to do and no pressure to do it. I like to write and draw or create some new cooking ideas, something that rings in my mind as a recipe to try. I imagine things that would go well together and I do my thing. It is fun and I truly enjoy it.

I have found the YouTube is a boon for me as I can play any song I want from the past, see things I never saw before, and learn things. Every day I create a new joke with an Italian accent and a list of characters to go with the jokes. Using Italian words for punch lines and last names seems to be a big hit with the readers who, like me, are cooped up all day.

Most days I get unsolicited phone calls from companies, so I turn that into pleasure also. They ring, I answer and they ask for me. I tell them I’ll get him and place the receiver down while the guy or woman is asking: “Hello?” “Hello?” “Hello?”

Today being July 1st, it has been almost 4 months of quarantine, 4 months of staying at home, and wearing a mask. I visit parks and beaches more often now at a safe distance and have already had dinner out in a restaurant. It’s something a little closer to normalcy.

IT TOOK SO LONG

As I entered the ICU to see my daughter, she lay there in her hospital bed mouth agape and oxygen tubes running from her nose, it took me aback. Since March 7th, I have not seen her, not seen her beautiful smile, her laughing eyes, and her happy aura.

Lying there is did not move, did not acknowledge my presence, just tried to breathe and survive, one breath at a time, slow almost measured breaths.

There I stood, admiring her beautiful black hair, naturally curled framing her alabaster skin, a naturally beautiful woman just as she was a naturally beautiful child, once.

I don’t see the woman, middle-aged now, I still see the child, my child, the first child that bore the family last name.

When she was born at Southside Hospital in Bay Shore, I took Mom up to see her in the room where they kept the newborns. Mom looked at her pink bundle and being a grandmother several times already, she said: “This is the first Del Broccolo baby!” It hadn’t occurred to me but she was right, the other grandchildren were from her daughters, this one carried the family name.

After 48 years of life, mostly sweet but challenged, she is facing another set of rules that her frail body must follow, ones that say can’t feel well, you can’t live normally, nor can you eat like others or understand what is happening, you must suffer.

So, I visited her in her hospital world, and she didn’t even know I was there. I couldn’t wait to see her, after all, March 7th is a long time ago to miss someone you love.

INDEED

Do you know how old you are? Ask.

“Does it seem that most people causing violence and tearing down history went through school during the Obama Administration?”

The above is the question of the day. I think I should start a blog called ‘THE QUESTION OF THE DAY’ and we can all profit from the wisdom we gather from it daily. Maybe we could also have a ‘BEST OF THE YEAR’ question, or better still, once a month and at the end of the year we all vote on the best!

Now, I may be wrong but I suspect that the genius posting this question above on FACEBOOK may be a FOX Newsreader or maybe even Sean Hannity himself. Without a doubt, he is a ‘conservative’ red-blooded and patriotic American, who believes in all the American values the Orange Plague in the White House believes in.
I mean, how American can you get when you want to end immigration, to embrace COVID-19, know that Black lives won’t matter if we can get more guns in our hands, and oh what fun to watch those little kids being sent back to their native lands without their parents, fear and badly treated separated long ago by our genius POTUS. That wall? How is progress? We get enough money from the Mexicans yet to pay for it? Probably they will benefit from the wall as they open little concessions that sell small American flags, with souvenir photos of POTUS and a greeting that says: “HOLA AMIGOS! ENTER TEXAS POR DOS PESOS UNDER THE FAMOUS GRINGO WALL, AND GRACIAS SENOR PRESIDENTE TRUMP”

But, getting back to the question: “Does it seem that most people causing violence and tearing down history went through school during the Obama Administration?” This is what is the result of reading to people who have never been to school with their ears, eyes, and minds opened. The question implies a lie, it makes assumptions, and to qualify to be posted by the particular individual who did post it, be stupid.

In response to the question, and to help “Make America Great Again” here is something to think about, I hope someone can read it to him:

Yes, this is Obama's fault. I have checked them all as I know you have and their school records indicate they went to school during Obama's administration! Thank goodness you mentioned it!

Sean Hanitty: helped make America sound stupid

GETTING SICK OF IT

I have been reading postings by people that seem to ascribe to the idea that everything is a hoax, a conspiracy, or a deep-rooted plot to deceive and subvert life in America.

I read some of the garbage put out and I can’t help but think that these are people who are too lazy to think for themselves: that if you label something a hoax or conspiracy you don’t need to investigate it. Just copy a link and presto, you have ‘facts’ to spread to show the world how well-read you are, how deep you can be. After all is said and done, copying a half-baked idea and posting the link is hard work. Welcome to the Valley of the Stupid!

Speaking of the Valley of the Stupid, have you caught the latest POTUS campaign for president ad? It

touches on what the orange imbecile claims are Biden’s fault, the granting of a most favored status for China, the loss of 50,000 jobs, and the closing of factories that led to unemployment! The very issues we have today, all due to the Orange Stupid we call POTUS.

It seems that the ad reminds us in part of the current state of affairs in this country, just add a pandemic and you have it. I have a feeling this is not what the jackass should be selling. But then again, what ideas he has if God forbid it, he wins re-election? He has not shown us anything new, just stupid. He avoided that question when his lapdog, Sean Hannity asked about it.

As this crisis of a virus, coupled with the crises of lack of national leadership become a confluence of dark and stark reality. This country is in deep crisis, as the amount of Covid-19 cases rises while all of Europe is decreasing, you wonder how long we must deal with the idiot and the likes of Bitch McConnell and Linseed Graham? And if someone removes the moron and Pence becomes in charge, will he walk back his ass-kissing praise? The leadership of our ‘President’ has contained the virus!!!!!!

REMEMBERING

It was so long ago that it happened, and as I walked to his gravesite I paused for a moment and read some of the headstone dates that defined lives lived so long ago. I particularly try not to read them for I am afraid I will find one or two that indicate an infant under the grass beneath the stones. A life not lived is life not all, and children need to live. It still grabs me by the throat when I do, and a little sadness swells in the heart as I imagine the poor parent’s pain of such an occurrence.

This past Father’s Day I made my usual pilgrimage to his place of rest. His birthday and anniversary are the other days for sure I will visit, and when I visit Mom and Dad or my in-laws, or my brothers-in-law, I stop by and I talk to him. Then a sudden stillness hits, my mind retreats to the day he was born, the day he started to walk, the days he smiled, all the days of his young life, only to be terminated too soon, and I ask myself: why? I know that I will never forget him, that he is alive in my heart and soul and right now, he is helping me see my way through another child in crises, my daughter Ellen.

In the middle of the night our home phone rang, I didn’t hear it but my wife did. She answered and quietly dressed as she made her way to the hospital where my wife was once again, like she always is, by a child of hers in need. When I awoke from my sleep I showered and dressed then went downstairs to begin my day. There was a note sitting on my chair, and I knew immediately that something once again was wrong, one of my children was in trouble and mamma was there for the child.

Her note explained that only one of us could go to the hospital because of restrictions, only one of us could be there to assure our child that no matter what happens, we will be there, and once again, some part of us will be taken away, bit by bit, until someday there will be nothing left for us to give.

We don’t know what is wrong with my daughter, her blood pressure is way down and she is vomiting, other issues need to be addressed and we won’t know anything until probably, tomorrow. Pray for her.

BREAKING FREE

Recently, my wife Ellen, and I celebrated 49 years together. Being it is a national stay at home order, we found the event somewhat watered down. No party or joyful experiences that occurred outside the home, as we anticipated, then they went into phase two and the r4estaurants were seating people outside at their venues.

49 years is a long time to be with someone but it went fast, in spite of deaths, illness, and schisms that have evolved over the years. The joy and rewards of being with my wife far exceed anything else. So, how to make an anniversary festive, if it is already meaningful? I brave the new world of COVID-19 and adjust to the new normal. I make a reservation for a favorite restaurant that is seating outside as it fights to come back to the reality that it needs to be working to survive.

In the sleepy little village of Bellport, NY, the home of some celebrities and my home town, there sits on Main Street near the four corners an old building. It was once called the White Horse Inn, and as a young man, I often fantasized about dining there. I got married and we did, then, over the years the ownership and name changed. It is now known as Avino’s Italian Table, and it has on the past visits, either lunch or dinners been spectacular, so, off we went.

Our reservation was for 5:00 PM on a perfect sunny afternoon under a tent. The sun shone brightly, the sky was clear blue and a gentle breeze made our stay exhilarating as we sipped cocktails and talked, mostly about anything except our children since this was a night off.

Dining outside can be a pleasure as we experienced that evening. It was the first time under the restrictions and we wore our masks to the hostess and remove them once we were seated. The staff however wore theirs and did a tremendous job of seeing to it that we were happy, which we were. The only thing I found disheartening was the main course as my wife and I experienced disappointment. Their usual fare at Avino’s was sub-par. It taste4d like they are resorting to what many restaurants that go out of business do cut corners, and it tasted like it.

I hope they can clean up their act and make everything fresh as it should be. I don’t know if the chef had a bad night or the pressure of serving food under new conditions it the reason.

HE WHO CONTROLS THE REMOTE…

Has all the power!

TLW (The Little Woman) and I watch a lot of TV with this shut-in pandemic. We watch things that we record on our cable DVD, on Optimum, Apple TV, and Amazon Prime, along with what we record from the TV itself.

Usually, we watch what is recorded while eating dinner and haven’t eaten at the kitchen table in quite a while. Just the two of us affords us a casual attitude about dining. Such shows as; The Profit, Last Tango in Halifax, Billions, and what not, has made for some interesting TV dramas.

Being she is a woman, TLW usually controls the remote, starting, pausing, and fast-forwarding as needed. But she does have a heavy thumb that can at times fall asleep at the stop button, or move forward at the speed of light beyond the point necessary. When I experience this, I usually call out, in a very helpful way, calling her attention to her poor and unprofessional way she handles the remote.

“WHOOOAAAA, you went too far! Back, more, more, whoa, a little forward!”

Now you would think my coaching would be helpful, appreciated, and yes, even welcomed? No, it is scorned, put to flight, dissed.

Every now and then, I get to operate the remote and the pressure can be overwhelming, as I must be diligent or else I will get what I so lovingly give but get instead, “I am really enjoying myself tonight, now that YOU have the remote!” Then: “WHOOOAAAA, you went too far! Back, more, more, whoa, a little forward!”

Well! This puts me on a higher alert, more diligent than before, more at the ready to pause when needed or fast-forwards as needed. As the show went on and I practiced my trade, I notice she hasn’t commented anymore, so I snuck a peek, and sure enough, all that caution and diligence was all for naught, she looked like Ingemar Johansson at the end of the second Patterson/ Johansson fight.

Women.

CONSPIRACIES, TOILET PAPER AND OLD ADAGES

There is a conspiracy going on under my nose and it involves toilet paper. Yes, those little rolled 2-ply white squares we all love so dearly is part of a plot to make me nuts.

There is a raging debate out there about how the roll should hang. Does it hang from the front of the roll or (hmmm) behind? Now I know we all have an opinion on which way to hang and in my family, someone is expressing that preference.

I am usually the person in charge of providing the rolls and seeing that there is a backup roll (hmmm) behind it. By all rights granted in the marriage license, I should be able to determine if it is outer or (hmmm) behind. I don’t ask for much, just that the toilet paper hangs right. I know it is right because while I read a newspaper, I notice it more convenient to rip off one-handed with the overhang.

But lately, I go in and when I reach for the paper, IT IS BACKWARDS! I correct it, come back the next time, it is wrong once again!

But it doesn’t end there! No, there is more going on. I am also the one that usually goes into the garage where we store the paper that is purchased in large numbers and packaged and sold. So there should be a large package of rolls there. I go into the garage recently and I don’t find any.

“Toots, when you go to Costco get toilet paper, I just took the last two rolls!”

“Are you sure??? I thought I just did recently!”

“Amazing how time flies when you are having fun!”

She gets up and comes out with a new unopened package! She must have been hiding it and was waiting for the opportunity, so she can have me declared insane, find a young stud, and go discoing every Saturday night!

Mom had a few things to say when she asked her kids to get something and they said there was none. She would get it herself and announce: “None are so blind as they that will not see” (Probably Corinthians), or her favorite: “IF IT WERE A SNAKE IT WOULD HAVE BIT YA!” (Definitely Granma Mary)

HOW’D THEY KNOW???!!!

I have been getting emails on a regular basis explaining to me how to deal with poopies, and peeing, let alone indigestion and flatulence!
“Stanford researchers have discovered a simple tweak to your breakfast routine which can have a dramatic effect on how often, how easily, and how fully you empty your bowels.

 In fact, Jeremy used this to eliminate decades of constipation in just 3 days when nothing else worked…

 Along with 4 pounds of “stuck poop” that made him feel bloated, fatigued and heavy.”

Now, I swear I have been closing the door when using my toilet, so this is all coming as a surprise to me. POOR JEREMY! Decades of held up poop in just three days! What was the cost of the plumbing???

There was one email about “Perfect poops” something I really haven’t been paying too much attention to, however, it does count. Am I being anal enough about this?

“My good friend Alex was devastated the day her mother nearly died.

 But she never could have guessed that battling this traumatic experience would cause her mom to suffer from humiliating “pee leaks” for years.

 Her mom felt like she wasn’t in control of her body anymore.

 She was ashamed.

 Frustrated.

 And embarrassed to be a woman.

 Alex’s strong confident mother was now struggling to even want to leave the house.

 And Alex was heartbroken.

 That’s when she decided something had to change…

 And she dedicated her life to finding a solution.

 But she never would have guessed, that this search to help her mom would lead her to discover the shocking secret that is causing most women to suffer from involuntary leakage...

 And a strange upper body stretch that would not only help her mom, but thousands of women around the world to stop peeing their pants.”

I’ve taken ‘leaks’, but they are all voluntarily taken, no surprises. Did Alex change his mother’s washers or tighten her screws or better yet, change out her ‘O’ rings to prevent the leakage? Being I’m old I make sure to never pass up an unoccupied toilet. I go before I leave the house and when I return, and in each case, it is my decision and not an accident.

“Recent studies are now showing how a simple tweak to your bedtime ritual can have dramatic effects in shrinking fat tissue while reversing the signs of premature biological aging every time you fall asleep.

 In fact, John & Lisa used this 2-minute hack to finally rid themselves of 116lbs of "stuck" belly fat, which not only resulted in a reversal of Lisa's Type 2 Diabetes but also forced them to buy a whole new wardrobe!”

Now I have nothing against John and Lisa, but I hear now they can separate the two king-sized beds they were sleeping on and each can now sleep separately! Good for them!

“After SIX months of being completely SOLD OUT of our first batch, my BioTrust partner Josh and I are very excited to announce that our breakthrough Ageless Glow™ skin rejuvenating serum is available once again... but hurry, our first batch sold out in a few days and this "second chance" opportunity likely won't last much longer.

 That's right, we’re searching for men and women who are “over 40” and suffer from visible signs of aging—like crepey “chicken skin” on your neck, face, arms, hands, and chest, crow's feet, laugh lines, sun damage, dark spots, or bags under your eyes. If you meet the criteria please read this email completely and reply immediately. Inventory is very limited, and I'm certain all of our new bottles will be claimed within a few hours.”

Nothing personal with this notice of concern except the email subject matter was: “Turkey neck” and like a bad restaurant, I get ‘chicken’ in the body of the missive.

So, with all due respect and yes, even appreciation that these people are concerned about my body functions, in spite of the fact that someone is ‘leaking’ or trying to, my bathroom conventions, I respectfully advise them to: PISS OFF!

I DID IT THE HARD WAY!

Me

This is 'GUESS WHO'

This is #1 Son looks related!

Over the years I worked hard to get older. I took care to press the wrinkles on my face as they appeared and always kept an eye on my grey hair. Aging is an art, not to be trifled with, and given the results: it makes you look like your age.

Aging gives you the ability to drive with your left-turn blinker on and do it while being slow, not only in your walker but also in your car. You don’t feel like opening a heavy door? Look pathetic and someone younger will open it for you. Do you shop in a supermarket? You are allowed to leave your shopping cart in the middle of the aisle as you read the contents of something you are not buying. While at the market you go to the self-checkout, hold the product in your hand, just stand there and some employees will come running over to do it for you, quickly and efficiently.

You awaken in the morning and if you feel a nap coming on before getting out of bed, you can do it without hesitation or guilt. You can put on your TV, see the bonehead in the White House and be free to yell: “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” This alone is beneficial since it releases internal pressures somewhat like an oral fart. Senior citizen's rates always apply.

Recently, I got a posting from #2 Son, who shows a photo of a familiar-looking younger man than I am, but older than #2 Son is. Under the photo, he writes: “Do you know who this is?” I reply it looks like him, and I am told that I am right. He had gotten hold of a way to make him look older. It saved him the trouble of getting married and having kids.

This disturbs me because he is young, has everything before him, I don’t. I had to work hard to get that senior discount, that door opened for me and even help to carry things, why should he get it without working? Next, he will have a parking permit for handicapped parking, something even I have my eye on.

JUNE 16,1991

It was Father’s Day, a day my family celebrated every year that I could remember since childhood. Dad was to barbeque and Mom got the day off from cooking. It was a tradition to give Dad a wrapped head of lettuce with a bow tied around it since he loved salads. But his biggest present was the presence of his children and their spouses as we gathered to celebrate dad.

Dad would get himself into comical situations like falling off a pier while getting excited about a crab that was swimming toward him while I held a flashlight and the crab was led into Dad’s net. One evening, in particular, a hot and humid summer night, as we crabbed at the dock in Patchogue, NY, a larger than usual crab started following my prompt. Mom was sitting in the car and cooling off while everybody else was at the dock’s edge crabbing, with an extra-long pole and flashlight. We were veterans even as children equipped to take on the biggest of crabs.

I called Dad’s attention to the incoming crab and he got excited!

“Ooooh! Oooooh-ooooh-oooooh!” he said, then there was a big splash! Right into the Great South Bay Dad went! There was some Italian spoken from the wrong side of dockside and my little sister runs to the car to tell my Mom.

“Ma! Daddy fell in the water!”

“Well, tell him to come out!”

Mom couldn’t swim and damned it all it was comfortable with a nice breeze from her sit point. Meanwhile, I’m laughing hysterically while trying to help Dad out of the bay. Dad is getting angrier by the moment, increasing his use of Italian swear-words, some I had never heard before, and the more he swore, the more I was laughing.

In 1991, on June 16th we spent a rather sad Father’s Day, as Dad was laid to rest the day before. I suddenly held the tools to the food on the grill and feeling like I was in the wrong place, or with the wrong people as an emptiness filling my body. All I could think of was that Dad was no longer here! I thought how shallow it all felt, but there were other fathers in the group so we went through the motions. From that holiday, that lone Father’s Day, all the holidays that followed all failed to measure up to the past ones we celebrated. Suddenly Christmas Eve, Dad’s favorite day, the day he sat at the head of the table in his flannel shirt, a glass of wine and lobster and spaghetti was no more. Now it was in another place with a buffet set-up, no seats at the table but find a place to eat. It would never be the same again.

I recall going to lunch the next day as I returned to work and suddenly feeling this overwhelming sense of panic, Dad was gone!

During his last twenty years, Dad and I became very close, we were no longer father and son but two people who loved each other. To this day I am grateful that it was so when he passed.

And now I want to celebrate another father, Dad’s namesake, namely #1 Son, Anthony.

Many years ago I had the happy experience of having a son for the first time. I didn’t know what life would bring me but I knew what I wanted for him. I wanted him to have all that I had, no, not my money, or house, or car, or anything that had a physical presence but what meant the most for me, the love of a good woman and children. If he had that, then everything else would take care of itself.

As he grew older I saw in him the need to recognize the truth and to speak out, sometimes he told me ‘what for’. He was always respectful, compliant, and loving, and so life went on.

He dealt with the misery of a sister with developmental disabilities and was a protector of her, and to this day like his younger brother Mike, cares enough to take time from his life to ask about her. There was the horror of losing his younger brother Joseph when he was six and I’m sure it affected him considerably and took a toll. But he had an undeniable spirit for life, to spread joy and make his parents laugh when we weren’t being proud of his achievements. He did so well as a young teenager into his adult life that I was afraid there would be a full and deep investigation where I would have to provide DNA to prove I was his father. I knew it wasn’t the mailman, he kept bringing me my neighbor's mail and George the mechanic was always under a car.

Then he graduated from college and went to work as a copywriter at my company and became known as; ‘Anthony’ Mr. ‘D’s” son to Mr. ‘D’ and his father. That was good because it put the pressure on him to behave like an adult, not me, anymore.

And now, after the tragedy that befell him in June of 2018, while giving birth to HIS first son, Bobby, he lost his beautiful wife Courtney while she gave birth. Left with a beautiful little girl named Darby, #1 Son has put together an amazing display, a playbook almost or primer on how to be a father, how to rescue lives in turmoil, and put his pain aside to raise these two wonderful children.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY Anthony.

Love, Mom, and Dad

FIFTY YEARS AGO!

It seems like only yesterday that I dreamt about going to college. To a young boy from an uneducated family beyond high school, the very idea of college was beyond my expectations for myself. Being we were a poor family and Mom and Dad struggled to make ends meet, and the fact that no one in my family had attended college until a few of my siblings and I became of age to do so, the college was a fantasy.

I recall discussing it with an aunt and uncle and their putting college aside as something you really didn’t need, because as they said and believed; “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know!” But I felt that is was a little deeper than that, it was” “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know with the right tools!” and so, I forged a plan to attend college after graduating high school.

Today, after a herculean struggle to graduate college because of the expense of my major and the distances I traveled, I marvel that I had the stomach or the strength to do so, in the face of hitch-hiking for miles, traveling the Railroad and sometimes because of a lack of funds, sneaking onto the train, I finally found myself with a degree and a very good job with a prestigious company. I had made it and it was my little triumph! Thinking back to the day of graduation, I remember my grandmother attended and how proud and overwhelmed she was, just like my dad was.

And now, I reflect on 50 years that have passed and the places, people and events that have happened, I can’t believe it did happen. One year to the day I was married.

AND STILL STANDING TOGETHER

Here I am, 49 years later after a trip down the aisle! I am still alive and breathing even if I am 75-years old in a few weeks.

In those 49 years I have lived with TLW, (The Little Woman) we have shared everything, money, home, cars, and love. It started with love and then she took everything else I own.

Someone at a wedding asked me what the secret of a long marriage was when they discovered we were the longest-married couple on the dance floor; the answer is simple, I keep my mouth shut. Early on in our marriage, I got that advice, and it is right, from my wife. She said: “Shut up!”

I love being married because I get to share not only the good times but the miserable ones, too. No matter how terrible things might seem, knowing your backup is standing next to you is a God-given gift, one that I cherish. We both enjoy being given children and grandchildren, and what joy grandchildren are! Our Darby Shea and Robert Courtney are true ‘Grand’ in all aspects of our lives. I can sit for hours just watching them do the things they do on videos and photos, and the wonder of Face time is sparkling.

Putting all that aside, there is a special time when ‘La Vita e Bella” and that is when we are alone, just two old people married a long time sitting, talking, eating, and watching TV together. When I married Ellen so long ago I pictured life with us being together and nothing else would be in the way. Of course, when you have children that don’t happen, especially after 9 months of marriage. Suddenly your attention, responsibility, and most importantly, love, are shared. It is beautiful, it is life, and it is what you want. Then one day after 4 children, there is an empty house, just the two of us once again, just as I imagined it, and I find the love connection adds another coupler, to reinforce what already is. It is our time, our reward for all we have gone through. Losing a child to death, to disabilities and emotional crises would kill most marriages, but I was lucky, she didn’t cut and run, she gave more than I did for all that.

Sitting in my chair during this pandemic one day I thought about the coming anniversary and realized something very important to our marriage, she took my last name as her own. She honored me and not only gave me that, but gave me 4 children whom I love dearly, and most of all her love.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, SWEETHEART, I LOVE YOU BACK.

WE DON’T FORGET

Today is one of the saddest days of my life, as it is ironically, one of the happiest. In 2018 two things happened simultaneously, my beautiful grandson Bobby was born, and my beautiful daughter-in-law Courtney passed. All this came to pass in one moment, together and inter-twined forever in my mind and etched in the family history.

She was amazing, beautiful, generous, understanding, and fiery. She was a great mother and teacher to my beautiful granddaughter, Darby. She believed in social justice for all, put her actions to use, and taught her daughter Darby to learn to fight, too. Courtney was no ordinary person, she was oh so much extraordinary, she topped her graduating class in college, worked with children, did a TV commercial for Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and did it well!

Courtney saw to it she married someone with heart, substance, and likewise, belief in social justice. Anthony did much in his life to make us, his parents proud, but the single-most thing he did to top that list, was to marry Courtney Hyde. She raised the stock of us all, and she will continue, even in her absence as her children will fill the void as best they can.

Today is Bobby’s birthday, and he is unaware yet of how important he is to us, how much he is loved and will be loved. He is my first grandson, and my only grandson he is MY grandson, thank you, God. He is the living spirit of both his mother and father.

He is crafty, tough, yet loving, and very, very funny. He can be proud of his sister Darby and learn a lot from her. Darby is the clone of her mother and we will cherish that as she grows into a woman, the same wonderful woman her mom is.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOBBY!
Love,
Grandpa and Grandma

OFFICIAL ‘HOW TO GET AROUND THINGS’

Our great leader, the man who is going to make ‘America Great Again’ has had a slight setback, things are turning to shit. Oh, he’s tried but to no avail. He single-handedly defeated the Coronavirus in January, assuring us that it would quickly disappear, just a case then 15 and now 115,000 deaths and still climbing.

He has taken a stock market that was rising from the period around 2014 until this year where we have a steep downturn as we look, taking credit for what he thinks he did but didn’t, along with the horrible numbers in the unemployment world.

But this morning there was new hope!

There is an old joke that goes like this: Doctor, my arm hurts every time I raise it!” The doctor then replies, “Don’t raise it.” Or my neighbor complaining that his son is failing in class, he has a very low average for all his subjects, so he decided to raise the average by taking fewer tests. Then, there is one Donald J. Trump who feels that since we have the most testing and also the most cases of Covid-19 than anyone else in the World, to better the stats we will do less testing. Gosh, he’s a numbers guy!

When I read or hear about his plans, I see why he wants to make America great again he’s screwing it up!

My question is how does he get up in the morning with all he has faced, due to his own doing? He has the black community, the press, the virus, the economists, and now the military are all angry and his own staff scurrying about to undo his misspeaks. How does he face the 115,000 deaths he has the responsibility to deal with that?

As you can see, I am 100% behind him with my own Trump campaign poster.

E-WISE

He's asking for 51% of my TV and computer, and HE gets to pick all the shows

It was 1991, and the world was rapidly changing. I was in the throes of entering the computer world, and it was kind of exciting. I purchased my first home computer and it was big. The monitor was as big as half a house while the computer itself was the other half of the house.

As we progressed and I learned the various programs, all professionals, I started the phasing-in of the Internet with TLW (The Little Woman). Every morning TLW would go upstairs to the computer and yell down:

“JOOOOOOOE, CAN YOU COME UP A MINUTE???

The sound of her voice was like someone else wanted to strangle her as I sadly put my newspaper aside and went to her rescue.

My, how times have changed.

Recently we watched the show, ‘The Profit’ an interesting show staring a multi-millionaire named Marcus Lemonis, who gets involved in struggling businesses upon request and gives them money and takes 51% or more of the business. The owner will get upset but relinquish with a deal and as he scraps everything and starts over, throwing out un-used stock, material, and décor, sometimes with the owners still holding on while retaining their underwear.

So, yesterday, TLW started a conversation with a picture of Marcus Lemonis’ wife. A nice looking lady in her 60s and Marcus and her seem very much in love. Then TLW gave me a rundown about the man and all I could think of was the old days when she didn’t even know what a browser was, here she was flipping through links as she put them there herself. This has got me thinking, what if she starts looking me up?

Well, I have to go now, I need to get a hold of a paper shredder, erasers, markers that are black and delete some files, I’ll try to make it back by tomorrow.

LITTLE DARK SECRETS… USA STYLE

Arnold Air Force Base (Arnold AFB) is a US Air Force base located in Coffee and Franklin counties, Tennessee, adjacent to the city of Tullahoma. It is named for General ‘Hap’ Arnold, the father of the U.S. Air Force. The reason I mention this is to distinguish this General Arnold from a more infamous one with the moniker of Benedict Arnold, your traitor, and mine, in the good old American tradition. There is no fort, place, or utensil named after Ben, after all, who celebrates a traitor except the history writers.

If you scan the South you will see numerous military bases named after famous Confederate Generals who all led the insurrection against the United States. Camp Beauregard, Fort Benning, Fort Bragg, Fort Gordon, Fort A.P. Hill, Fort Hood, Fort Lee, Fort Pickett, Fort Polk, and Fort Rucker are honest to goodness Confederate Generals, all worst than Benedict Arnold, all leading troops into battle against their country, divesting themselves of their pledge of allegiance, their oath as both officers and men, yet they are ‘honored’ with forts named after them?

While I’m at it, let me ask a question that seems to trouble me, and yet no one has mentioned it. Why are the police resorting to guns to bring black men under control and so many unfortunately dying at the hands and knees of the police? What motivates the police? Is it the fact that many gun-toten hombre are running loose in the ghettos’ of the big cities firing indiscriminately, guns that are hidden on their person, and the fact that when they shoot, they aim to kill? If you read the papers in NY, there can be stories usually about gang violence where guns are fired. These guns are owned by young black men, and for whatever reason, either self-protection or for a purpose are indeed present.

Maybe what we need to do is re-educate the police and the young about the need to stop this all. The so-called Second Amendment Right to bear arms Republicans has to bear a good deal of responsibility for this whether they like it or not. The fact that people can get arms so easily, quickly, and use them so deadly needs to be addressed along with the problems of having the wrong psychological personalities on the police force, to begin with. If we want to solve the problem we need to go deeper than we wish to admit. The problem of distrust of the community by the police as well as the distrust of the police by the community needs all our full attention.

THE CORONA LADY STEPS OUT!

Since my haircut a few days ago, TLW (The Little Woman) has been dripping with envy over my new look. “GOOD for you!” she stated when I called from the barbershop that I was involved in a tonsorial event.

She made a phone call in retaliation and finally got her hairdresser, ‘Vita’ the stay-at-home hairdresser, virus or no virus. Virus Vita has been ahead of the curve before the Ebola crisis and so even though no one has shown up in three months at her place for her snipping, she hasn’t lost much of her touch.

TLW called and scheduled an appointment for Sunday at 8:30 AM, and in her joy, TLW announced that fact to me, rather enthusiastically.

“DID YOU HEAR THAT? SUNDAY AT 8:30 AM, FINALLY… I WILL HAVE MY HAIR DONE!”

Sunday morning comes and as she is fixing breakfast, asked ‘Siri’ to set the timer for 15 minutes. About halfway through

the time, TLW asked Siri how much time was left.

“SIRI, HOW MUCH TIME IS LEFT?” One must yell at Siri to get her attention and frankly, I don’t understand why what does she have that prevents her from paying attention? I’d hate to think Apple sold us a hard of hearing Siri.

“Do you mean how much time is left for HIM or on the timer? If you mean HIM, is he still around, if not about 8 minutes!”

TLW was getting closer to the time for departure for VIRUS VITA, virus or no virus. There was a special lift in her step, and a grove in her walk as she glided around the kitchen floor with what seemed to be the grace and timing of the Vienna Waltz or Blue Danube. Her eyes seemed to focus on something far away, the perpetual smile like a set of my mother’s rosary beads draped across her hands, this was big. Breakfast could not come soon enough, the magic hour of transformation close at hand.

The time came for her to leave me as I looked out the window and I heard the words to

Randy Van Warmer’s song: ‘Just When I Needed You Most’. As she disappeared into the Sunday morning sunrise I tried to console myself with a recorded version of Gunga Din, one of Dad’s favorite movies, he loved the character Gunga Din because he was an underdog and he loved the actor who portrayed him, Sam Jaffe, who in later years appeared on Ben Cagey. (Casey) Vince Edwards happens to be a cousin of mine on Mom’s side. But Dad’s favorite was not alone as there was Eduardo Ciannelli who plays the Guru, an “Italian Boy!”

 

But soon after the movie, suddenly at the main door stood the new Mrs.D resplendent in her new do, a smile on her face and Siri asking ‘sirious’ questions. I can’t flaunt my haircut anymore. How sad.

WHY CONSERVATISM HAS LOST ITS APPEAL

I am not a social psychologist, nor a medical expert, nor do I wish to be political. I like my politics to be neutral, that is, independent of any political dogma fed to me by yours truly. I have lived for a while now and seen the full spectrum of political behavior and feel I can conclude, the Conservatism as I see it today, has no place in normal discourse.
Fortunately, the concept of ‘Independent’ as a political banner gives me the choices I need to make. I refuse to believe in political ideologies and vote by party line whether I believe in or not their policies.

Who among us would want a child to go to bed hungry? Who would want a family to live in fear, or perhaps, a father struggling to feed his family who doesn’t earn enough to feed them or to housing in a safe neighborhood, and take them on a vacation? Shall we take away the need to heal with the denial of medical care because they are transgender or Jewish or Black? Is anyone that cruel? Who among us wants to discriminate because someone is both black and a woman? Who among us has the right to play God, and keep our brothers and sisters down? When does it become evident that it is time to take your knee off their throats?

Those Confederate statues of generals that led the rebellion against this country, if we ‘honor’ them with a statue that holds the belief that all men are not equal, that our fellow countrymen, men, and women who have died in the war, paid out taxes, and salute the flag like anyone else, or follow the law, should we not honor Rommel, or Beck, or Reinhard Heydrich also? Maybe we should erect a shrine to Adolf Hitler, brought to you courtesy of the far right?