EXCUSE ME, BUT…

Now that I am home by myself for most of the time, I’m finding it hard to accommodate others in the family when it comes to disrupting my routine and my way of doing things.

The other evening I found #2 Son’s books on the kitchen table, along with some of his clothing. I asked him to take his stuff away, which he did but left me with his hat and his ID badge laying on the very same table! I think his clothing and stuff procreate right under my nose.

When we run out of tissues or paper towels, you can be sure that someone will replace the item, in fact you will find it right next to where it should be. I usually take it the rest of the way and think: “So close and yet so far!” Used glasses and cups rest right over the dishwasher, not in the dishwasher.

I have a huge amount of room in my front hall closet. The reason is that it is easier to put the coat or sweater on the backrest in the kitchen, then to stop and open the door, select a hanger and hang up the item. I for one am very guilty of that, but when I do that, I at least let it sit nicely on the backrest, while #2 Son makes it look like someone was tortured in the coat on the chair!

Excuse me, but I think we all get kind of lazy without thinking, and that includes myself. When I worked, my office was very neat and well organized, and everyone would comment on the order of things yet my studio at home looks like a dumping grounds. I guess I need to impress myself first, and stop complaining about everyone else in the house.

OK SABO

You ever need gold; I can find it for you. Sometimes I just get lucky that way, and find a gem. I’m not really talking about real gems, but auto mechanics. You say “So what, mechanics are a dime a dozen”? Well here’s the catch; he’s honest! Yes I said it, “honest” a man who is still in business for over 20 years, so successful because he is honest, not your usual auto crook.

When I first met Mike Sabotini I was looking for gas one morning while on my way to work. I stopped at this gas station, filled her up and did it every time I needed gas. When I needed inspections and repairs, where did I go but my man Mike at OK Sabo.

Since those days, he stopped selling gas and concentrated just on service. His station is like family, a messy oily smelly family that you just have to love. He had a big fellow named Joey who was his #1 assistant; a real wise guy but you loved him. He would always kid me, and I would kid him back. One day I was waiting for TLW (The Little Woman) and Joey was standing by the window. “Hey Joe, your wife is here. She’s waving a finger, maybe she means you’re number one?” Funny, very funny.

Joey was a big guy, with a huge appetite for Entenmann’s Cakes, donuts or what have you. He never bathed, being grease stain from top to toe, with dark t-shirts, black genes and shoes. The shirts were usually filthy and had a hole in them, but Joey worked like a dog, helping Mike run his business. One day I got Joey good as it gets. TLW and I were walking one day for exercise, (She was, I was walking to keep her quiet) and I mentioned as we past OK Sabo that I wanted to arrange a time to bring in my car. Who is at the counter but Joey, ready to raze me and I was waiting.

Me: “Joey, how ya doin?”
Joey: “Eh, how’s it goin. See you brought in the better half.”
Me: “Yeah, right, when will my car be ready?”
Joey almost faints, becomes flustered ands hems and haws.

Of course TLW gave it all away on me, trying to be friggen nice as usual, talking away my little pleasures.

TLW: “Oh Joey, don’t pay attention to him, you don’t have our car.”

One Sunday afternoon in June, TLW and I went to a church sponsored bazaar, and who do we see there but Joey with his little kids in hand, a proud papa if ever I saw one. Joey was scrubbed clean, maybe even sandblasted to remove the grease. His clothes were clean and he had a big smile on his face.

Then one day I went to the shop for my car, and asked: “Where’s Joey?” Joey was dead, died suddenly in 40’s, with little kids and now a widow left behind.

Then there was “Pop”, Mike’s Dad. A happy jovial retired gentleman who sat in the shop all day and when you entered, would greet you with a hearty “hello” and ask you all kinds of questions to make you feel at home. You could look forward to the gentleman’s greeting, just a good guy. I wondered how this man ever disciplined his children, or if he could.

Pop too passed on and now my family is getting smaller.

ELLEN (PART2)

It was a Tuesday morning in March, there was residual snow left on the ground from the weekend snowstorm, and I was happily if not a little nervously sitting in my office of my first professional job as a graphic designer.

I was awaiting my boss Jack Stern to come out of a weekly Tuesday morning meeting when my phone buzzed and the receptionist said that my wife was on the phone.

Grabbing the receiver TLW (The Little Woman) said that she was at the doctor’s office for her prenatal checkup and that the doctor told her to go to the hospital to have the baby. It struck me like lightning, but what to do? The boss was in a meeting; do I just go, disturb or interrupt the meeting? Everyone around me started shouting: “Just go, I’ll tell Jack, just go.”

Flying out the door, I couldn’t get my legs to move fast enough, rushing to the 53rd street subway stop to catch an E Train to Sutphin Boulevard then to the Long Island Railroad. Racing down to the subway stairs I found the train waiting, with the doors about to close. Jumping on I figured from a schedule what time the next Train out of Jamaica Station would leave, and found I was keeping it very close. I would have to race from the subway stop in Queens to the railroad station in Jamaica and hope I could make it.

Panting and weaving through the noonday crowds that flooded the streets, I climbed to the platform for the Patchogue train that was being announced as ready for departure and fortunately the trainman let me on.

Jumping off at Bay Shore to go the Southside Hospital, looking around for a cab, one sights me and I ask; “Can you take me to Southside Hospital?” “No Problem.” Oh yeah.

Hoping in the cab the driver does 20 miles an hour, picking up first: a nurse, some lady and some worker from the hospital, the ride which was maybe only 5 minutes turned into 40 minutes with all the pickups. Guess what the cabdrivers tip from me was, if you still don’t know, look in your hand right now.

Arriving at the hospital I run up to the dingy old waiting room for expectant dads and assorted lovers. I start to pace up and down the long narrow unpleasant room, overlooking a corner of the parking lot outside that harbors trashcans. Finally someone comes to me to say TLW had a baby girl, and that I could go up to see her now.

Onto the elevator I go, and across the hall in another bank of elevators, comes out my little girl, in a pink blanket and looking really angry that she was ever disturbed, on her way to the baby room. I HAD SEEN FOR THE FIRST TIME A CHILD OF MY OWN, BY CHANCE!

Finding the recovery room, I looked for the most beautiful woman lying there, kissed her on the lips, and waited for her to wake out of her drugged stupor.

The moral: If your wife has a baby in Bay Shore’s Southside Hospital, bring your car to work, don’t take a cab.

MY DAUGHTER ELLEN

We were just married a few months when I accompanied TLW (The Little Woman) on a visit to the doctor. I sat in the outer office as she went in by herself, and when she came out told me I was going to be a Daddy! Not that she was pregnant, or SHE was going to be a Mother, but I was going to be a Daddy.

I strutted home and walked about with my chest out, with I’m sure a stupid grin from ear to ear, very proud and proud of TLW. The thought of being a father was not new to me, but it did seem strange. The first thing I did was to purchase a set of electric trains for the son I was sure to have.

His name is Ellen Mary, and he is a she, and like all my plans this one needed adjustment too.

She was the most beautiful baby girl I had ever seen, because she was mine. Her head was round, with pink rosy cheeks that accompanied a beautiful face and a full load for every diaper she wore.

As the year progressed after her birth, we started to notice little things about her, things that did not jive with normal development, her crawling at a late age, her walking, her not speaking, but in every way else she looked very normal. In two years, her baby brother was starting to surpass her in all phases of childhood development, and we knew it was time to deal with reality. We took her to a pediatrician and he guided us through the clinical ways of a doctor, with tests and evaluations and all the painful realizations a set of parents go through when these things happen.

I don’t wish to relive the memories, or burden you with the facts, and please don’t feel sorry for us. We can accept her mental retardation, and we use it to help us to help her, joining finally the Association for the Help of Retarded Children.

Every other Sunday we take her home from the residence that she lives in very happily, and feed her whatever she wants, pretty much doing all we can for her. She has a fantastic memory, and when she sees us for the first time on that Sunday, she jumps up and comes running over to us. Spreading her arms she turns us around and starts to push us out the door, to take her for a ride and dinner at home. She has a special shuffle and claps her hands, and becomes very, very happy.

Believe me, we are not special, we are just like you, but we have a daughter with a misfortune in her genetic development. Don’t tell us God choose us to be her parents, because it is just a way of saying: “I don’t know what to say.” There are thousands of families like us all over the country and they are no different than you, except for their handicapped child, put on this earth to help the human spirit to be more accepting, maybe to help us all to learn to be kinder, and above all to accept adversity as it comes.

Because of Ellen, TLW and I have given our time freely to help her, her organization and those who need services besides my daughter. When I visit her home, I take my hat off and say “Hello” to every one who is there that can respond; it is their home. The lonely but gentle people that sit mostly by themselves, in their own world of frustration, pain and I’m sure deep innocence. When I say “hello” some will become very excited, stretching out of the wheel chairs, or grabbing my arm, or just squealing in delight. One gentleman is very much a loner, sits by himself, and when I first saw him, I thought he wouldn’t respond favorably to my intrusion, looking away as he did, never ever looking toward me or ever with a smile on his face. I bent down next to his face, called his name and rubbed his back, and when I did, he turned his head and kissed me on the cheek!

So my beautiful daughter is 35 today, in her 35 years she has made us laugh, love, give, help and do for others that we would never have thought of doing if she were not born. She is God’s angel, but our burden, and our gift.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLEN. I LOVE YOU.

I CAN SMELL IT

Today was a busy day for me. I had to sign checks at the agency then do a program evaluation for a respite home for the same agency also, then go to the mall and search for a present for someone.

I decided to bring a notebook, a small pad that you flip the pages, and take notes in the different stores about the items that fit the price category I was looking for. You can get a lot of attention from the sales help by doing this style of shopping.

First you pick a Tuesday morning, then make sure the place is fairly quiet, then start to take notes. The help views you with guarded suspicion. Maybe you work for the main office, or are with the government checking on pricing, or even worst, a lawyer looking to bring a case against the store. I love it, because it makes them nervous. “Is there something I can help you with?” “Is there anything I can do for you?” “Hi there, good morning, can I help you?” I know I’m mean, but I like to have a very official inspection look on my face at all times. A little grey hair goes a long way in convincing people that you could be important.

After my fun shopping technique, I was heading toward the parking lot and was getting tinges of hunger in the pit of my stomach. Somehow I was approaching the food court, and my car was parked in the opposite direction. I was going to “See” what they had, not “Buy,” but “See.” When in situations just described, when you are on a diet, guilt will invariably accompany hunger when you are contemplating what I was contemplating. Suddenly I felt I knew what cheating on your wife is like.

I started a subconscious debate, do I “See and Get” or do I do the right thing, turn around and run for the parking lot? Closer and closer I got to the food court, guiltier and guiltier I became, smelling the good smells and thinking about the leftover from the night before awaiting me in my frig. My legs were defying my guilt, as they sped me along, faster and faster to Hirohito’s Teriyaki House and Sushi Bar. As I neared Nathan’s Frankfurter heaven, closing in on Mao’s Little Red Book of PuPu Platters. #2 Son has aptly described the world in which I was heading as “MacWorld,” the land of fast food and drink, and all the cholesterol you could possible need.

Suddenly I slammed on the breaks! No that wasn’t the Pretzel Cottage and mustard Emporium I was seeing; so I decided to turn around, go home to my boring lunch of leftovers, knowing I would feel hungry by 3 P.M., but proud of myself!

SOME HERBAL OBSERVATIONS

Today I received a mailing on Nature’s Remedies, and one of them was the use of Extra Virgin Olive Oil. “Olive Oil for Constipation” In the morning, taking 1 tsp of it mixed with lemon juice on an empty stomach will blow everything out of you and then some. Trouble with all of that is whenever I mix olive oil with lemon juice, I start looking for the garlic, tomatoes and basil!

The “Extra Virgin” type is reassuring; you notice no one recommends just olive oil. You have to wonder where it’s been.

Parsley is another use for the excretion of toxins and reducing your heart rate and blood pressure. Every time I read the news now or pay more for gas than is fair, I will chew on a sprig of parsley.

My favorite is honey. It says to use it in a “Relaxing honey bath.” You put 2 oz. of honey in a glass with 5 drops of lavender oil. Add 1 to 2 tbsp. of the honey lavender to your bathwater to help you relax and combat insomnia. I would rather combat insomnia in my bed thank you.

I don’t like to fool around with nature’s remedies, it would cramp my appetite, better to use the ingredients to prevent hunger, mainly mine.

WELCOME TO THE HOUSE OF ARTHRITIS

One of the joys of getting older is you become more in tune with your body. The joy of not hearing or seeing is more than made up for by the joy of more pain. Yes, that gem that we all come to grips with, (if we can still grip) arthritis.

My Dad must have known something about the future, he called it: “Author-ritis” figuring he would someday have some grandchild become a writer, and maybe even write about it.

Getting up in the morning or even in the middle of the night now takes courage. Do I dare move and chance new pain, or do I stay with what I got? It usually starts with my hands; a swelling feeling in both as I awaken to its announcement that it needs acknowledgement. But we need not forget the back or legs, or sides or hips or feet, they all clamor for attention as I try to struggle to move.

Maybe I should try to wrap myself in bandages and take a room at the local hospital. I tried to explain to TLW (The Little Woman) my condition, but I didn’t want to interrupt her while she was explaining her ailments.

Some people inherit money from their families, me, arthritis, good old fashion arthritis. You wear sweaters, blankets, drink tea, and the cold days still make you feel the pain. There is one remedy that I use that does help, no not cure, just help. Jack Daniel Manhattans, they have a therapeutic effect and a sense of easing the pain, but only if I go to bed immediately after taking a few doses will it seem to go away!

THE LOOP

Recently I had the pleasure to review a pilot and about seven episodes of a TV situation comedy called “THE LOOP” soon to be released on DVD. The show was the product of Twentieth Century Fox Entertainment and produce and created by: Pam Grady and Will Gluck.

The theme of the show is that a young man, “Sam”, played by Bret Harrison becomes the youngest executive of an airline based in Chicago. He is caught between his serious ambition as a young up and coming superstar executive, and a young 20-year old living in a young man’s world. Sam has a brother, “Scully,” played by Eric Christian Olsen who is a free spirited wild and crazy guy, living on the precipice of disaster. It is an excellent combination for trouble to brew; yet brotherly-love exists.

The cast of characters that compliment the show include: Philip Baker Hall, an old favorite actor of mine who you all may know as the Library Detective from the Seinfeld show, playing Sam’s boss “Russ”, a hard nose boss of Trans Alliance Airlines, a WWII veteran with a hard nose attitude and a tough fatherly love for Sam. Again “Russ” becomes a favorite character of mine, since he is key to many situations that challenge Sam, who in a constant bind with his boss finds a way out. “Russ” is very funny, quick and just great in the role of the boss.

Included in this cast is a very talented actress that truly helps the show along by the name of Mimi Rogers, who plays “Meryl” the 48-year old predator and workaholic senor executive, with Sam constantly in her sites. There is Joy Osmanski, playing “Darcy”, the bitter MIT graduate who is the company receptionist and like many graduates today, she can’t find a job in her chosen field of study. “I graduated 4th in my class, the top three are in outer space!”

Sam’s love life is a confused situation in his love for “Piper” played by Amanda Loncar, who is totally unaware that Sam even cares, as she struggles to take courses to become a doctor.

Rounding out the cast is your usual ditzy blond played by Sarah Mason, “Izzy” a barmaid wanna-be who does very little bartending.

I enjoyed the different episodes, even though it is a young person’s comedy, filled with great one-liners and some sight gags. It reflects the problems of young people today, yet does it in a funny way. If you are in your twenties, this will make you laugh out loud, and if you are older, don’t bet it won’t.

When I was asked to do this review, I thought that it would get panned because of the type of comedy it is. So look for the DVD in a store near you.

On a scale of 5 Dels, I give it a 3 and one half.

COMMUNICATING WITH THE GREAT BEYOND

I am usually a good judge of people. I can tell when someone is sincere or not, happy or sad, sick or ailing.

Last September I met this couple at Duke University at a wedding reception, we sat at the same table and chatted a bit as we learned some interesting things we had in common. I gave them some information and my phone number to get back to me about an issue they had that I could help them with.

Today the lady got in touch with me as a follow-up, and as we talked she gave me her last name, and when she did I remember hearing that name once before in my past, and knew where I had heard it from. After asking some key questions, I realized that she was my older sister’s boss from the early 60’s, and although she did not remember my sister she confirmed all that I knew to be true about her.

Eagerly I called my sister to tell her the news that I had spoken to her old boss who she hadn’t seen in over 40 years. The phone rang at her house and with caller ID asked me what the hell I wanted.

I mentioned the woman’s name and she said: “Oh, she’s dead.”

“Come again?” said I. “Yes she’s dead.” I asked her how that could be, since I had sat with the woman in September and just spoke to her a few hours earlier! My sister then said that since the conversation was going nowhere, we should change the subject. “OK” I said and promised not to tell her when I meet dead people, that I would keep it to myself.

Now I don’t know any dead people who go to weddings, and use the phone, but I’m glad they don’t tell me when they are dead, and that they don’t appear in some dark room when they want to speak with me.

To think: I used to be able to tell when a person was dead or alive, and if they were faking either one.

Weight loss count is now at 6% of my original body weight!

Tomorrow: The big review!

CNA OUY RAED TIHS?

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can.


i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be
in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

Thanks to my baby sister Joanne, or is it Jannoe, or Ennoaj?

THE OLD MOVIES

I decided that being how I am retired, and can do what I want, that I’d catch up on all the old classic movies that I have heard so much about but never viewed. Number one on my list was: “Casablanca” starring Bogart and Bergman with Peter Lorre, Claude Raines and Sydney Greenstreet.

When I took the movie out from the Library, the lady who checked it out for me said it was her favorite movie of all time. This was a lady in her late forties or early fifties, which surprised me since the movie itself is so old! 1942.

The thing that impressed me most about the movie is how woven some of the lines are in our culture today, some of the phrasing that we use and hear, that I never realized came from Casablanca.

I guess classics become classics not from age, but from ageless lines that live on forever. “Play it again Sam” I thought is sometimes attributed to Bogart, but it wasn’t, it was Bergman!

The movie received 3 Oscars, yet it was a movie that was turned out in one week! When they started filming the picture, the writers had no ending, yet the ending leaves us with a great line immortalized by Bogart, and used over and over again.

So I leave you with this:
See the movie if you haven’t, and it will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. And it will round up the usual suspects.

So, here’s are looking at you, Blogger readers.

PORK CHOPS BY THE SHOE STORE

Years ago when I was working in the city and taking the train and later as I drove for 17 years from my office on Long Island, certain nights of the month TLW (The Little Woman) would make pork chops for dinner.

Now as you all know there was a scare about pork and tapeworm and the fact that you have to cook pork completely through. OK, I can live with that. But it seemed that every time TLW made pork chops, I would be running late, either held up in a meeting, or traffic or the train was late, and when I arrived home, the chops were like shoe leather! Being how TLW’s Dad worked for a shoe store company, I figured that was the way she likes them. The only thing missing was the buckles or laces and a good shine. Then TLW straightened me out, explaining that it always seemed to be I was the fault that the chops were over cooked!

Whenever I find out that something went wrong or goes wrong because of my involvement I always try to put it in prospective, except when it comes to food and wine. Then I’m really mad at myself and consider self-whipping as a cure. I mean, here I was thinking it was her fault, when it was mine!

You can screw up my ride home, you can make my train late, but darn it, when I make my pork chop dried out, then I truly screwed up and should be yelled at.

To #1 and #2 Son’s, this is not about food, but lateness.

THE TV SLEUTH

Being how I am hard of hearing, and not a little - TLW (The Little Woman) always says I never listen to her. We decided to get a TV with closed caption and it has really made my world a little better when I watch the box.

As a result of the miracle of cc captioning I watch things other than baseball, football or basketball. I stay around as TLW watches: Desperate Housewives, Boston legal and Law And Order. They have quickly become my favorites and I now can solve all crimes!

If you need to know who done it, I can tell you before it even happens. Yes, I’m that good. Long before TLW is asleep (about 10 minutes into the shows) I have a reasonable sense except for Desperate Housewives of what will happen.

Here’s how it works:
TLW says: “turn on Boston Legal”, which I immediately do. I sit back and start to get involved in the antics of James Spader, Murphy Brown or Captain Kirk. I watch the development, commenting as I go along to no one in particular. About halfway through I say: “Toots, I love the way this guy acts, but he’s not the killer. Toots? TOOTS??” Her: “Snoooore.”

When the show is over, TLW will ask: “What’s on?” I say: “I don’t know, here’s the remote.” TLW takes possession of the flicker, turns on the channel guide holding the remote. As I go through the channels about 14 times I realize that maybe the reason she can’t make her mind up is that it is looking behind her eyelids that need to be open to make these kinds of decisions!

I suggest that they change the marriage vows to something like: “I promise to love honor and occasionally give up the remote.

ANDY WARHOL, YOU’RE RIGHT!

You’ve all heard the Andy Warhol statement that everyone has at least 15 minutes of fame. My first 15 minutes came one evening in 1974 as I was watching TV. I really wasn’t watching because there was a commercial on for the US Post Office, and I don’t pay too much attention to commercials. But this one commercial started to get my interest because it was showing products and photos that started to look very familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, and then all of a sudden I noticed it was my artwork!

I happened to be working for the US Post Office designing stamp starter kits, and there they were featured in the commercial! It was a part of me for the first time on the national stage!

There were other times that became more personal. For seventeen years I worked for Publishers Clearing House, and three times I was featured on TV. One time was on the Joan Lundon Cable TV show, explaining the sweepstakes and how they work.

Another time was on the TV Show: “How Do They Do That?” with Pat O’Brien where they filmed me working at my computer, designing a sweepstakes brochure, and the most memorable time was on 20/20 with John Stossel, where they mention my name, show my office and blame me for the sweepstakes that you get in the mail.

Of course I notified my family and all I knew, and right after the show was over I called my Dad to seek his opinion, He said: “Fifteen minutes was all you were on?”

I guess Dad was hoping more for a talk show hosted by yours truly.

OOPS! SPOKE TOO SOON!

Just when you think it is safe to go into the water, a shark rears its’ ugly head again.

Tonight, while TLW (The Little Woman) and I were preparing dinner the phone rang. At the same time we said: ”Oh no.” I answered the phone and heard; “Hey Dad, put Mom on the phone.” Sure enough, #2 son was on the other end, as the conversation played out, I heard TLW SAY: ”Your Father will come down.” The conversation went further and the impression was I would not be able to find him in the school parking lot where he was stuck with his car. This meant TLW was to accompany me in finding him.

The interesting thing about the conversation was: ”Put Mom on the phone.” Now I do talk to #2 Son. There are certain things I’m not suppose to know, the: ”Don’t tell Daddy” Syndrome that exist in many a household. Of course as he gets older, #2 Son will say that I never cared, because I know nothing about his life.

Well anyway, I now have to give up my car again. At least another two days while #2 Son runs around, and I’m stuck in the house. This is not what I hoped retirement would be like.

Guess who gets to put gas in the car?

THE BROTHERHOOD

There are few words that scare me more than the words: “I need you to come with me to the mall to look for a dress.” These words mean that we will be walking for long distances, from store to store, all of them packed with women pecking through the vast numbers of racks, through the latest styles, all disappointing of course, with me trudging along, dutifully answering all questions, standing aside as she pokes and slides dress after dress.

Usually I stand to one side stuffed in a corner surrounded by racks of dresses and discover suddenly she has disappeared, and I spend many minutes looking for her, marveling on how quickly she has vanished into thin mall air.

Macy’s is the start, but we check out any and all women’s departments in all the stores in the mall. I follow behind, head down, shuffling along, not saying anything but listening to whatever she has to say. Who is she? Why TLW (The Little
Woman), of course.

But I look around me and I see hundreds of men in the same position, and in the same condition, dutifully following their wives, being led almost by the nose, all because they want their supper too. THIS IS THE BROTHERHOOD, of which I speak.

All men at some point in their pathetic lives join the brotherhood. If you are an unmarried man and are or are about to become engaged, it is incumbent upon you to test drive that little woman in a mall situation to see what you are getting into for the rest of your life!

There are many reasons why a dress is not right in the ladies mind. Don’t ask her why: just accept the fact. “I hate sleeveless dresses”, why? None of our business is the answer. “I hate this style”, again: none of your business.

So what have we got here? We have The Brotherhood, legions of men, wandering behind their better half, following dutifully, sometimes carrying pocketbooks or packages, with their heads down, shuffling their feet, wondering how much each step is costing the family treasury, all because they want their supper!

Some men never come back, and no one ever sees or hears from them again.

How sad.

SHE TALKS REAL GOOD

When I was dating TLW (The Little Woman), she and I were both working in the city. She for Mobile Oil, and I was working for a very prestigious firm called Lawrence G. Chait and Co., an advertising direct mail firm. I would call her and she would answer with her: “Miss Manning” and it would make me crazy because she has a very sexy voice on the phone, too.

This morning we were cleaning up the kitchen together after breakfast and she said something with a pronunciation that was very cultured and correct, which led me to think about how dissimilar some of our background is from the sheer weight of where we grew up!

Being born in Brooklyn, growing up in an Italian environment, all my friends were Italian, I live very near my Grandmother who was born in Italy, I had a definite Italo-Brooklyn flavor to my words.

It may not have been as bad as Hollywood portrays “Brooklynese” to be but it was there, including: “Dems and dose.” When I moved to the Island, I notice how the other kids spoke and changed to fit in. I like to think that now most of it is gone, but I hope not all of it. It defines who I am, and I’m proud of it.

When my Dad was alive, he had a certain code of behavior I had to follow, which included things like speech, haircuts and work habits. You could NEVER do anything that made you sound like a “Fairy” in Dad’s mind. I once got a haircut after I was married for a good ten or fifteen years with three kids and the back was rounded edges on the neck, instead of the clean square edges Dad and I used to get. “Where did you get that hair cut?” Dad inquires. I ask why, and he says: “Because it makes you look like a fairy.”

Once TLW purchased a tie and shirt for me from a catalog, long before the internet, and the tie was pink! I wore the tie to some family function, sure enough Dad asks: “Where did you get the tie?” I answer: “Why?” See response in the last paragraph, last sentence.

So you can see my reluctance to change my speech habits too much. When TLW speaks, because although I admire her speech, If I started to emulate her speech, it would make me feel uncomfortable, and I would hear Dad’s voice saying: See response in the next to last paragraph, last sentence.

THE TAX MAN COMETH

Once April 15 comes and goes, we are back to blissful ignorance and the fact that I don’t have to deal with my accountant or for that matter my financial advisor with a life and death interest.

Every phone call with these guys, every conversation I have with them, ends with me thinking in my head: “save me, and make sure I don’t get audited.” Why? Because I get nervous for no reason when the government comes to play. I am scrupulous as are the accountants and financial guys, I don’t like to cheat the government (mainly because their housing accommodations don’t look that great) and besides its’ unpatriotic.

Filling out tax forms is a lot like taking a test in college or high school. Answering questions that seem vague or require thinking usually means I have to strain my brain and make sure I can substantiate what I answer. My biggest fear is reading the question incorrectly and thus putting down an answer that screams: “ten to twenty years!”

I will throw myself at the mercy of the court and plead: ignorance, insanity and old age confusion, all at once. Yes, I will even go so far as to say: “TLW (The Little Woman) made me do that.”

HOW TO INSULT A BROTHER WITHOUT REALLY TRYING.

Just wish him “Happy Birthday!”

If you can find the right card.

I looked really hard this year and found the best card. It shows a little boy with his finger up his nose and the headline reads: “Birthdays are like boggers, the more you have the harder it is to breathe.”

Cute, but he has it coming. For over 40 years I’ve known this guy. Constantly busting my chops, as I am busting his. He is like a brother to me. I think of him often, and worry about him always. If I have something of value, I worry about that too. When I love someone, I love and worry about them also. My good friend Phil I’ve been loving and worrying about for all those 41 plus years.

Some people find large sums of money, with fame and are still not happy. I found love in two people, TLW (The Little Woman) and Phil. I am always happy, and grateful. You can’t put a price on friendship, but you value it with all your being, it means that much to me. If I have a friend like Phil, he becomes my brother.

He is pushing another milestone soon, but he is always young to me, always with a laugh, always timely in times of sadness, when I need him most. He is always there for me; I try to be always there for him. My only disappointment is that we are not closer physically, since he lives on Staten Island and I live on Long Island.

So if you have a good friend, call him or her up and say: “Hi, I missed talking with you today.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHIL!

I MISS TALKING TO YOU TOO!

HELEN

In the many years that I knew her, she never once uttered an unkind word to me. In fact, I can’t recall her ever uttering any unkind words to anyone. The worst thing she ever said to anyone was to the one she loved, her Jim: “Go shit in your hat.” She uttered that enough times for her daughter to pick up on it and tell her husband the same thing.

She was part of the greatest generation, and her participating in it made it great. She was not a woman of leisure, but a woman who was never on time. She laughed and loved to hear stories or jokes I told her. She was a very intelligent woman with a child like innocence. She was a wonderful grandmother, and a great Mother-in-law. Yes, she was my Mother-in-law, and I miss her. I could have written about her on her birthday, but I would not have had the right attitude, or on the anniversary of her death, but I wouldn’t have had the emotional stability or heart.

She loved to tell stories about when she was young, riding in her father’s Pon tiac as she pronounced it, how he would never let anyone ever pass him, or how some incident occurred in her childhood, as she was relating it digressed into how she loved Superman Comic Books, and then after a half hour of that, back to her story.

TLW (The Little Woman) was her daughter, one of four children, bright, and successful in their own way, none were ever anything but. TLW related how she would get down in the dirt to play with her children, and raised them up to her high level.

She loved my children, always giving them all the attention and then some, every time she went to a store, she had to buy her grandchildren a toy, or she wasn’t Grandma. She catered to her Jim and loved him dearly, and he loved her.

She looked like Hyacinth Bucket or Edith Bunker, even sounded like her at times, and I’m sure poor Jim in some of his exasperations felt like Archie. She was a modest and unpretentious as one can get, had friends all over the place, a real chatterbox and I loved to hear her.

All her children are very serious, very business like, except for her oldest daughter; Maureen (blog to come) and sometimes I wonder how she never rubbed off on them in her laughter and spirit. But she did rub off on them in her decency, self-respect, and affording one comfort in her presence.

Although I miss you Helen, I haven’t let you go.

JEEZ, WHAT A DUMMY!

In this morning’s newspaper, there was a big photo of a mannequin sitting in the front seat on the passenger’s side of a car. The story is that the owner of the car was putting the dummy in the front seat so as to drive in the HOV lane of the LIE!

The dummy’s chauffeur would dress the dummy every morning according to weather conditions, sunglasses, baseball caps, scarves, coats etc.

There was one guy who had a cardboard cutout in his front seat, and as he went by the policeman in a patrol car, started to act very animated, like he was talking to the cutout.

Without sounding insensitive, the dummy in the HOV looked like he had HIV! The dummy was somewhat thin with this pain stricken face and it looked like it could hardly move. I know that that is what dummies do or don’t do, but you do have to fool the police. When the policeman caught the driver, the driver said somewhat sheepishly that he was only trying to get to work every morning, and if you know the traffic habits of the LIE, you can sympathize with him.

My question is why the cop stopped this dummy that wasn’t driving; he should be stopping all the dummies that were driving through the years when I went out in rush hour traffic.

There are phone users, newspaper readers, book readers, makeup artists, hair combers, shavers, semi-dancers who make a big show of how obnoxious they really are, and my favorite is the moron that does neck exercises at ten miles an hour taking forever to move from a stopped position in traffic. Let’s not forget the guy that teases his hair while looking into the rear view mirror.

Rather than fine this guy, they should give him money for keeping one less dummy from behind the wheel.

AH, THE GOOD OLD DAYS

Do you remember when things were simple, when it didn’t take much to change a channel on the TV, or toast a piece of bread?

Science has advanced so far that we are out pacing ourselves. In making things easy, we made them harder!

Today I tried to change the channel, but felt inhibited by the fact that if I did on the universal remote, I would lose the TV and/or the cable box. There are certain buttons you must use in a certain sequence in order to change a channel, get a closed caption, or run your DVD or VCR!

If that is not enough, I tried to toast a piece of bread this morning, it required three separate dials that have to come into play, or the bread will not toast or worst: it will burn!

My car clock radio is no help since when we change to EST or DST it requires using the clock radio to make the change. I get a lot of blinking of the numbers, and it stays the same time all day long! And what about that little “M” button, what the hell does that mean?

When I was working, there were about 4 or 5 programs I needed to know in order to get my work done. It meant unloading years of training without a computer to learning the computer and the programs. Then as things got more advanced, I needed to learn the upgrades and the even additional programs to stay competitive!

The final blow came a few months ago when TLW (The Little
Woman) and I bought our new mattress, a remote controlled beauty that I had to program, or I wasn’t going to sleep in the new age of bed rest!

AND THE JUDGES HAVE SPOKEN

Every now and then TLW (The Little Woman) and I lay awake in front of the TV, watching something that we are not particularly interested in. For instance: American Idol, the show that keeps my interest as much as I watch the grass grow on my neighbor’s lawn down the street.

As we sit there, half asleep, dozing in and out of consciousness, we make passing comments about this singer or that singer, who is warbling in a pathetic attempt to “Make it to Hollywood”, as Simon and the other two or three judges decide the future of their singing ability.

I have started to make comments to TLW and she in turn will make them to me. Usually about how bad he or she was. Sometimes our comments cross from hearing the #3 vocalist, falling off to sleep and awakening with the thought in mind, that #4 singer was horrid, when we meant #3!

I have started my own judging system for American Idol: rating the putdowns by Simon, to see who should be insulted the most. I award points for words such as “Horrid”, or “simply dreadful” or even “sounding karaoke like” or my favorite: “You sounded like someone’s father at a wedding.”

Watching the TV with TLW, many a time I have to stand ever vigil in watching some of the crime shows like CSI or the best show on earth: Boston Legal. It seems that she will fall asleep towards the vital ending, and awaken to inquire as how this one or that one fared. I have learned to keep scrupulous notes about the progress of the show so I can answer her questions. This means that I can’t fall asleep! What you do for love! I must admit I don’t always succeed in staying awake.



You know, it is fun to be mean without hurting anyone’s feeling!

There are other shows that I like such as “Desperate Housewives” or two and a half men. Let’s face it the shows are very funny and that Charlie Sheen is a great actor.

One night we were watching an episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond” and TLW said that the show was bad because everybody was mean! And I thought, so is every show we watch!

The semi-weekly weight-in:

5% loss from January 1st!

NEXT YEAR I WANT MINE

TLW (The Little Woman) gives religious instructions to little 2nd graders every fall, winter and almost early spring. In the course of teaching these little heathens, she prevails upon my ability as an artist to create different kinds of aids, and projects throughout the year such as: puzzles, black and white line drawings for the kids to color in, word finds and book covers for photo albums, plus the big project where I create a 30” by 40” board of all the classes that exists, with the pictures of the kids in these classes.

Every year, at Christmas time, TLW gets presents from the parents of the children. She gets the presents, I don’t. I want mine. I get the chocolate covered pretzel sticks that she won’t eat and any licorice, which she hates.

I want mine. Now!

Mind you I do get a mention in the church bulletin, TLW presents it to me at the end of the year, after everything is done, it says “Hi DelBloggolo”

I want mine, NOW!

Some gift suggestions for the parents to be distributed at the beginning of December:

Genoa Salami with Provolone Cheese nicely gift-wrapped.

A large bottle of Jack Daniels along with sweet vermouth to accompany it, of course gift wrapped also.

A first class round trip plane ticket to Port Ste. Lucie for spring training. Simple plain envelope will suffice for wrapping.

Of course you may improvise along these lines as long as it is tasteful, just like this little blog is today.

A VICTIM OF SUGGESTION

Yes, that is exactly what I am. Subliminally I can have a yen for anything that is suggested in that fashion.

Today in the newspaper in the weekly food report is Chinese food. One of my favorite foods is Chinese. Anything Chinese. Yesterday on the History Channel I watched how then President Nixon opened the diplomatic door to China, I viewed all the old footage of him at the banquets toasting and eating what appears to be interesting little morsels of Chinese culinary masterpieces.

I remember when that happened, I took TLW (The Little Woman) to lunch that day, and you can guess what I ate. Yes, Chinese food. I was in the spirit of things, doing my patriotic duty, imbibing upon oriental atmosphere and enjoying the fact that I helped in my own small way to make history.

I now have a yen (Sometimes I even amaze myself) for Chinese food again. I can taste it, I need it, but I won’t get it. Why? Because #2 Son has my car, so I can’t go out and get some. I drink tea to get my mind off of it, but Chinese people drink tea, lots of it. You would think I’d give myself a break and want English food, but no, I want Chinese food.

Egg rolls don’t do it for me. I have to have dim sum, Szechuan beef or pork, maybe a nice fish or veggie in sesame oil with rice. I am even open to some sushi. Maybe a little Thai shrimp soup would help me overcome my desire for Chinese food.

I think the thing about Asian food is not only the taste, but the exotic look and the different kinds of dishes that are prepared.

I hope this little essay has forced you to have a desire for some Chinese or Asian food, and that it is takeout, so when I do go to a Chinese restaurant it won’t be crowded.

MY CAR, MY CAR, A KINGDOM FOR MY CAR!

TLW (The Little Woman) asked me to call the auto repair shop that was working on #2 Son’s car after his accident. He has been using my car for the past 2 weeks and I was really missing it. The reason I was to call was that they had called and said it would be ready tomorrow. I was to find out if they took credit cards for the deductible, or a certified check.

I call and get a very nice young lady that informs me that the place would honor a credit car, and in fact I could come down today because the car is ready!

Oh joy! Oh sweet lady, how wonderful the sound of your voice, the car is ready now!

I wait for #2 Son to return with my car from work and together we drive to the auto repair shop and we enter the office.

Me: “Hi, I’m here to pickup the Nissan Altima.
She: “Oh, I wasn’t sure you were coming today so I had them bring it to the car wash. It will only be about 15 or 20 minutes. I’m sorry to make you wait”
Me: “Noooo problem” I happily respond, just 20 minutes more.

I sit and I stand and I walk, and I sit again. Suddenly this car pulls up and the owner comes in and gives me the keys. Something is wrong! These aren’t the keys!

Me: “These aren’t the keys for his car!”
Him: What?” “Are you sure?”
Me: “Yes, I am.”
Him: “Let me check. What is your car?”
#2 Son The Nissan Altima-2000”
Him: “2000! OOPS I made a mistake! You are not supposed to be ready until tomorrow, and –wait a minute, you have the special wheels, it might not be ready until Thursday, because I had trouble getting the special wheels. I’m so sorry, it was my mistake.”

No, it is my mistake, I should have known it would never be ready ahead of time, or for that matter on time, yes, everything is normal now, I will have to wait.

REMOTELY SPEAKING

All hail the queen of remotes, her majesty: TLW (The Little Woman.)

The other night I got into bed to read, and sitting up in the bed was TLW, watching TV. The bed was raised and of course she was half way between watching the TV and watching the back of her eyelids.

I climbed in and reached for my book, (ONE THOUSAND AND ONE WAYS TO SHOP FOR YOUR WIFE) and decided to raise the foot of the bed to get more comfortable. I reached for the bed remote that was next to TLW, and as I did I heard a slow growl. Looking over TLW’s eyes was starting to flare and she was stirring about. Chills started to run up and down where my spine is supposed to be, and the hairs all over my body (except for the top of my head) began to stand up.

TLW has beautiful eyes, very expressive, and when she was young, her eyes used to talk to me, conveying messages of love and affection. Well they spoke to me once more as I picked up the remote, they said: “What the hell do you think you are doing? Hum?

I dropped the remote and begged for her forgiveness, groveling and pleading for one more chance at life.

P. S. She did let me raise the foot of the bed!

SATURDAY NITE AND I AIN’T GOT NO RESERVATIONS

After my encounter with the Tamale family, and learning about life in Levittown in the early fifties, TLW (The Little Woman) and I decided to go to dinner somewhere. Being how it was early and we had no reservations we figured we could probably get in anywhere.

Big mistake.

One place at 4:50 pm had an hour and forty-five minute wait! We scratched our heads and thought about other possibilities and finally decided on a steak house we had been to before, when we got there we were told 30 to 40 minutes waiting time. We decided to spell our time at the bar and wait it out. The place was hopping with younger couples and although we didn’t feel out of place, I tried my best to fit in. I ordered the usual and took notice of the couples waiting for tables and how they should really be home eating salads like me. Actually the only one skinny there was TLW!

We sat at the very corner of a three sided or horse shoe shaped bar, and next to us around the corner sat a young bald fellow with a moustache and his wife (she was clean shaven), and I was suspicious of him because he kept staring straight ahead. I thought that maybe he was listening to everything TLW and I said, and sure enough, he and his wife both interrupted me to make a comment. It was a friendly comment, but they were listening already, so it was too late for me to sound like an ax murderer, being how all my conversation up to that point was sane for me.

So what do you do in a case like that? I ordered another drink, and told TLW she was driving home after dinner. The wait was over an hour, but the steak was worth the wait, and so were the two Jack Daniel Manhattans and the premium beer that went down with the steak.

Man, I know how to eat! TLW and my two sons think I can remember every meal I ever ate, which is ridiculous, I mean haven’t they ever heard of actual conscious memory? I think it starts about two and a half years of age.

MR. LEVIT, AND THE TAMALE FAMILY.

Yesterday TLW (The Little Woman) and I went to the Stony Brook Museum to view the Arthur Levit and his Levittown exhibition. It was a nice inside look at the development of low cost housing for the returning GI’s of WWII, the big one.

Being how the museum is small the house was packed, I had to find a parking place, and after driving around for awhile, the security guard told us to park right in front of the building, in a “No Parking” area. We exited the car, and entered the building when the guard noticed that a family was leaving as they were heading for their car.

Running out to the car, I jumped in and followed the family to their car, waiting as the family assembled in front of this powder blue1987 station wagon, with Mr. Tamale driving, Mrs. Tamale on the other side of the car, waiting to get in were Grandma and Grandpa Tamale, and Chico Tamale the 8 year old, along with sister Conchita the youngest Tamale.

Grandpa Tamale positioned himself about 15 feet from the rear of the car as Papa Tamale cranked up the old Ford as it puttered and whined in the gloam of evening, putting out little smoke puffs and then a bang. Grandpa would be the guiding light for Mr. Tamale when he decided to back out. Momma Tamale was now sitting next to Papa, waving her hands and probably yelling at one of the Tamale family members. Little junior Tamale would not get into the Tamale wagon until Grandma Tamale got in, since Chico probably wanted the window seat, but had to yet deal with Grandpa Tamale.

There is nothing worst than a mess of Tamale’s jockeying for position in the Tamale cart!

It was now going on ten minutes of waiting when I figured out that perhaps the Tamale Clan was not going to move for fear that I would be with the Department of Immigration and would ask for their “green card.”

Mr. Tamale must have thought: “Ha, the Gringo he thinks can fool me! I, Miguel Zapata Tamale will not get deported, I will make camp here in parking lot uno, the new home of la familia de Tamale.”

I must admit, the “Stony Brook” sounding address has a nice ring to it.

ENJOY YOURSELF, ITS’ LATER THAN YOU THINK

You know how that song goes: “Enjoy yourself while you’re still in the pink. Life goes by, quicker than a blink, enjoy yourself, enjoy your self its’ later than you think.”

Being how I’m retired now, I’ve developed some enjoyable habits and some enjoyable needs. The habit and need of wanting something to read everyday, a book that I can take from the library and spend part of an afternoon with, enjoying a cup of tea, the want and need to have a project that I can express myself for part of an afternoon, the sheer joy of freedom, to finally do what I want to do when I want to, to luxuriate in a hot bath tub in the quiet of the empty house.

Today I went to the library to get a book, they have a café there that sells coffee and sandwiches, and one can read a book or newspaper, or if you like a magazine and sip a hot cup of coffee in front of a real fire in a fireplace in a comfortable chair, making for a very civilized afternoon.

Sitting with me in front of the fire was an older gentleman who was reading a book, and a young woman who was reading a People Magazine like it was a suspense novel at its critical juncture, all the while holding on to her cup of coffee. There were no children to listen to, and no conversations to overhear, just the pure joy of solitude.

I think I will make this a habit of mine at least once a week, to take in this solitude and enjoy a different place and different atmosphere in which to read and think. I would sure have missed this opportunity if I were in the rat race still.

AND HE SHALL LEAD THEM.

It was a sad occasion, the passing of an individual that all of Olympia’s children had to attend. None of her children really knew the deceased, but out of respect we all attended the wake because we had to, indeed a sad occasion.

As wakes go, it was nothing special; in fact it was somewhat dead. I was getting antsy, and needed a cigarette and decided to go downstairs and try to kill the boredom. As I descended so did the rest of Olympia’s children, all five of us, down into the lounge that usually sits in the basement of the funeral parlor.

Being the type that likes to entertain my sisters, I was making jokes and having a grand old time, finishing up my cigarette, I decided to explore the basement and out of curiosity see what was behind some of the slatted doors. All four sisters followed me, as one door after another was opened and closed, being nosey and commenting as I went.

Suddenly I came to a larger set of doors and instinctively knew what was behind them, but told the girls it was a kitchen. With that I allowed them to bravely pass through the doors as I closed them, leaving the sisterhood in a large dark room surrounded by what else but coffins!

I think we resurrected the dead person upstairs, as all four let out a scream that had to be heard in the next town!

This I consider one of my greatest moments in brotherhood.

IT’S OFFICIAL: I CAN NAP!

You heard it on the radio, watched it on TV, read it in the newspapers and it even appeared on Yahoo: taking a short nap is good for your health!

They laughed when Columbus said the earth was round, they laughed when they said the Red Sox would win a World Series, they laughed when they said the Berlin Wall would come down, they laughed when I said: “napping is good for you.”

It seems that taking a half hour nap in the late morning or early afternoon helps the heart if you are a man. Of course the people who made this discovery tested both men and women, the men tested conclusively, while the women kept getting up looking for chores for the sleeping husbands to do out of habit, so the study was unable to get results for the women.

TLW (The Little Woman) is always making remarks to the effect: “Did you get your nap in?” Har, har: very funny. Little did she realize my master plan was in effect: napping to better health.

Let this be a lesson to all wives: that husbands nap to insure the future of their families, by protecting their health and hearts. After all, the family does come first. You women should be out there looking for the best equipment and encouraging him, to help your man succeed.

Thank you, very much.

THE VISITATION

The time for dinner was set at 2:00 pm. I called my Mom to ask her what her Beau liked to drink, and he answered in the background: “Juice.” I reminded Mom that I would see her at 2:00 pm and she said she would be there.

Right on time Mom arrives with her Beau in tow (I like that) at 3:45 pm. Bearing a monster cake she arrives at the door and is greeted with the usual fanfare from my dog, barking and sniffing and unhappy to have company. We actually named her Happy, but now that I think about it, I must have misunderstood the name, it should have been “Unhappy.”

The visit was an opportunity for TLW (The Little Woman) and me to better get to know a very shy man in Henry, as we were able to spend some hours without distraction.

What followed was a great shock to me. I really like the man! No kidding, he is a gentleman, and very sociable if the pond is small. Also very interesting, never being married, he has traveled a lot, and turned out to be an old Brooklyn Dodger fan! How’s that?

Being how he came from Astoria, TLW’s family’s stomping grounds (Not that they all have big feet) TLW was very talkative with him and liked him as well.

Here is the unbelievable part: TLW invited them to come with us in the spring to the city to visit the NYC Tenement Museum near Little Italy and Chinatown. I can just see it: four old people trying to figure out why we are doing this sightseeing

MOMMA IS ON HER WAY

I invited my 88 year-old Mother and her “Boy friend” over for dinner on Sunday. It is a time of great anticipation, as years ago when she could see well, we vacuumed and swept and cleaned places we never even saw before, knowing full well that Momma would be coming. It got so bad I was even cleaning my man Bill’s house next door, just in case I got drunk and we wandered over there by chance. And Carol keeps a clean house!

As the years went buy Mom lost some sight in her left eye, which made the cleaning easier since we never touched anything on the left side of the house to clean, and I spent that time watching TV or snacking. When she was going home, I always managed to back her out of the front door. Now she has thrown us a curve, her gentleman friend. He can see. He will tell her, I have to clean left and right again.

This really puts a damper on things, TLW (The Little Woman) would never allow Marie Barone to see a messy house, if we were hit with an earthquake. Mom is 88 years old and I’m still scared of her!

Watch out Carole, here I come.

Tomorrow, the visitation, stay tuned.

BUILDING FOR THE BIG BUILDUP

All too often when it’s my turn to win, the best I do is a draw! For about 7 weeks, I’ve been dieting and exercising and anticipating my quarterly visit to the doctor’s office where I get to pee in a cup and stand on a scale, debating whether I should take my shoes off or not.

Having lost some weight, I figured that would make the medical genius I employ very happy. Eating with great care, I can feel the difference, working out every morning I can sense the loss of volume in my pants, (let me rephrase that) loss of weight as my clothes are starting to get bigger.

I go to the doctor’s office, given a cup in which to leave a little bit of my vintage self, and am asked to step on the scale. The assistant or nurse or whatever she is zips the weight way down to the end, thinking I weigh what I did the last time. “Ah!” she says: “Lost some weight!” I step down, sensing the coming triumph that I will receive from El Medico, Il Professoro, “Da Dacter” the man who after every visit tells me: “Everything looks great, just lose some weight and exercise if you can.” Well doc, today is the day! What have you to say? Huh? See the difference? Doc? Are you paying attention? Hello, I lost weight; I’ve been working my chair padding off for 7 weeks, SAY SOMETHING.

“Doctor, did you notice I lost some weight? And I’ve been exercising too.”

“Huh? Oh! Great!”

Not even a lolly pop for being a good boy!

OUT OF THE PAST!

Every once in a while I get a call from someone out of my past. I was sitting in my easy chair, with a cup of coffee and a newspaper when the phone next to me rang. Picking it up I said the usual “Hello?” and the voice on the other end said, “Joe, Is this Joe?
I thought maybe it was a movie mogul wanting me for his next picture as the love interest for Kim Bassinger, but no, it was Joe “The Coal Man” Coleman! Joe is one of those people you never want to forget, a real decent man, with a good set of morals and a big heart. And talk about loving his kids, wow!

Joe and I met at Publishers Clearing House many years ago, then teamed up for a while to do some freelance. Somehow our paths split into different directions, and we lost touch. Funny thing is I was thinking of Joe only recently and realized I couldn’t get in touch with him.

Once “The Coal Man” asked me if I wanted to see pictures of his Pride and Joy, and I said “Yes”, expecting photos of his kids, but instead got pictures of the products Pride and Joy the cleansers! He has since then given his son the pictures, and so another Joe “The Coal Man” Coleman is at large.

Corn was his forte, using it as any occasion that may present itself. This meant funerals, hangings and embalmings always a humble man, never bragging and always hustling, Joe would stop by my office to chat and before you knew it the time had escaped me. So we continued our conversations at lunch, just to make sure the corn was all used up.

Well roll out the corn on a cob, Mr. Joe “The Coal Man” Coleman is back in town! He started to give me his e-mail address and it started with the letters “JC” and I asked: Does the original JC know you are using his initials? There was a long pause as Joe had stepped away from the phone. Coming back I asked, what happened and he said he had to get away from the window because he was afraid of being struck down by lightning.

The official weigh-in:

O lbs. lost!

Well I didn’t gain any weight, and according to the doctor’s scale I lost 2 additional lbs.

THE PERFECT VALENTINE’S DAY

It was a perfect romantic night, the snow was swirling around in big circles outside the large bay window of our dining room, and the howling wind was making the cold bitter, but inside the house was warm and toasty. The candles set the mood as the night and its gloom was setting all around outside, but the flicker of candles defied the darkness.

Being it was Valentine’s Day, I planned a special diner for TLW (The Little Woman) that took a lot of cunning and subterfuge, keeping TLW from suspecting anything.

Two days before I went out and bought all the groceries, figuring out the logistics, and where to hide things so TLW wouldn’t see them. The lobster and shrimp cocktail I put out in the freezer in our garage, the asparagus was already in the refrigerator, the soon to be stuffed mushrooms tucked away in the crisper draw with all the trimmings. I still had to bury the strawberries and whipped cream, so I took anything TLW might use that was in “the frig,” and placed it all in the front so she couldn’t go reaching and discovering all the surprise.

Taking a small corner of the dining room table, I set the china out, lit the candles and served TLW, course after course, with cocktails and wine, coffee and dessert with canola cream filling and chocolate covered strawberry that tasted so good after so long from not eating them.

And in the end, all I saw was a very beautiful lady enjoying her feast, on the day that says it all: I love you.

Trying something like jewelry, clothes, flowers or candy can be pretty predictable, maybe next year I’ll try something else

WHY I STILL LOVE HER

It’s funny, I look at the wedding pictures and I see a young beautiful woman, one with a fresh young unsuspecting smile. I look today at her and I see a beautiful woman with a wise smile, one who has witnessed everything.

That wise smile has a history of both triumph and great tragedy, one of wisdom and patience, one of quiet love and a good, good soul.

I can’t make up for the tragedy, nor am I responsible for the great triumphs, (her two sons are) but I witnessed the Lady forever being “The Lady.”

Being married to her I learned that “Home” is just a word that exist solely as the place she occupies at the time I am with her. Home is at a store, the car, an emergency room, a sun lit beach if we are together.

I am a lucky man, she never complains about my joking on this space about her, she has a name (Ellen) and TLW (The Little Woman) is just her heart and soul to me.

Although her nose is always cold, (she never sweats), her heart is very warm, and her voice to me is as magical as the first Christmas a child remembers. When she comes home at night, my dog Happy starts to bark and run about all excited, I can’t do that but feel like I should.

I guess after 36 Valentine Days, beautiful love still blooms in me for her, I think I still love her; she hasn’t gotten older, just wiser.

“Come grow old with me,
The best is yet to be.”

Two secrets to keep your marriage brimming
1. Whenever you're wrong, admit it,
2. Whenever you're right, shut up.
Nash

BECAUSE SHE SAID SO, THAT’S WHY

Yes, Mom ruled with an iron fist and a wooden spoon. Actually it was 3 spoons; made from the finest ash, the same wood they were making Willie May’s bats with. The size varied according to the crime I committed.

Mom was adamant about what she demanded, and when she said something that was it. “You can’t go to the movies today.” Me: “Why not?” “Because I said so, that’s why,” pretty strong words, words that meant business. I would through the rest of the day, accepting those words knowing full well that a wooden spoon would back them up.

Mom had another weapon in her arsenal, the “point” which she pretty much reserved for the girls. I would always get the point with or without words or spoons. The point was a very pointed expression she would use to save her breath, and get across her wishes. Getting her point across had real meaning.

My Dad was really not a disciplinarian, but rather the lame threat Mom held in reserve. I can only remember once when my Dad chased me, all the other times were just a little yelling and an occasional threat. We never feared Dad, but Mom would say: “Wait till your Father gets home.” I would usually laugh and she would then reach for one of her wooden spoons.

“Where is he? If I get my hands on him, wait; wait till your father gets home. Wait, just wait till you get married, and have children of your own, I wish one on you just like yourself.”

She sure could sound pretty definite.

IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?

Today I visited the doctor for my quarterly checkup. The Doctor likes me to show up every three months to be sure I’m still alive and plan his vacation (he needs the money.) If I don’t show up, he knows enough to burn my file. Happily everything was AOK, as I lost weight, good blood pressure and the pee was top grade, made from the finest of barley hops.

As I was standing at the receptionist’s desk, paying my co-pay, there is a sudden rumble. The roof is shaking; violently, one can feel the tremor in the floor from the violence. Was it an earthquake? Not on Long Island, my wallet opening, - no it makes a different noise, a terrorist, no, the Doctor is not a pediatrician, what could it be? I continue to have my money extracted by the receptionist (you can perform certain surgery for the doctor if you are a receptionist) when all of a sudden the violence begins again!

Suddenly a patient runs out of one of the examining rooms and says: “They are fighting up there! They are effing this and that and fighting! Someone should call the police, call 911. Yup, someone should.

I left the place knowing it wasn’t going to be me making the call, and I know that the combatants did pick a great place to have a donnybrook, right over the doctor’s office

YOUR GOVERNMENT AT SLEEP

It all started last evening when I sat down after dinner to watch a little TV in my den. The night was frigid and everything was toasty warm in the house. My stomach was satisfied, and TLW (The Little Woman) was happily yakking away with her big sister on the phone in the kitchen. All of a sudden, caller alert acts up and she cuts into her call to take the incoming call. I hold my breath, because #2 Son is out. Sure enough it is #2 Son calling. The muttering of a low conversation way over in the kitchen begins, as TLW sways this way and that and finally sets her eyes on me. The words I hate the most come out: “Well, your Father will have to come and get you, I have to leave soon.” Upsetting that it is that the kid is out there like that for the first time, and upsetting as it is for me to deal with it, I have to go.

A cringe goes through my body, I know I now have to get up from my pleasurable existence and get my son. “Where is he?” I ask, and am told the he is on some busy road that I am unfamiliar with, in the midst of a fender bender. After several attempts at describing the location, and how to get there, I want to go to bed, not go find #2 Son. “You will have to help him, get the insurance cards etc. for him, blah, blah and don’t forget blah. Fortunately #2 Son was not hurt.

I put on my coat and step out into the cold, the wind attacking my legs and crawling down the back of my neck, a great feeling when it is 18 degrees out with a wind-chill factor of minus umpteen degrees. I claim him, make arrangements for a tow truck and we go home.

This morning TLW tells me to call the tow truck company to arrange for them to transfer the car to the recommended auto-body repair shop. I call, the owner asks me if he could keep the car to fix it and it will be ok with the insurance company. I say: “No”, because I don’t want any complications with the insurance company. He says: “Ok, but it will cost you $250.52 for me to tow the car, that includes storage for two days and the towing plus handling and taxes. Plus I want a check from you, and the insurance company can reimburse you for the costs.”

I call my insurance company they say they will take care of it. Another call later from the insurance company tells me that we will have a three-way conference call with the new auto-body repair shop where I will authorize them to pick up the car from the towers and work on the vehicle. Five minutes later, the Auto-body shop calls and says the towers will not release the car without written authorization! Can I come down to sign a piece of paper allowing them to pickup the car? I tell them I don’t have a car, (#2 Son has borrowed it for work) or fax machine.

My insurance company shows up at the door with the authorization form for me to sign, I sigh and sign where indicated.

I get angry, and want to file a complaint against the tow company, I call the County, they refer me to the town, who refers me to the county, which makes me think maybe I should just move away and no one can find me. I say: “I called the county, they referred me to you.” “Oh!” goes the lady on the other end. “How about the State or the department of Motor Vehicles?” I say “How about the Better Business Bureau?” “Yeah, even that is good!”

Somewhere in this world, maybe not in this country is an alert, competent government employee, who is awake and somehow helping someone lodge a complaint?

You can sleep soundly tonight, your government is.

YOU GOTTA KNOW WHEN TO HOLD ‘EM

Know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to cook.

Yes, indeed.

It started with TLW (The Little Woman) laying out the menu for the week, and instructing me to cook the vegetarian tacos recipe for the evening meal. With those instructions she said she was leaving for her Weight Watcher’s meeting.

?...

Off she went as I started to gather all the ingredients to make this hardy meal. It meant that after I gather, I have to chop and dice, measure and sauté, all in the name of good health. I read all the instructions once through and then again as I do each step.

TLW returns, as I am still dicing and cooking while keeping up with the rules of the recipe. She comes over and begins to give out helpful hints; “Shouldn’t you be heating that through in the pan? Shouldn’t you be adding some of that in the tacos?” I don’t answer, knowing full well the answers to these questions are all: “No.”

I hand her the bean dip and measuring cup, and say: “Would you like to cook?” She wouldn’t take it. “Are you sure?” She again counters. “Let me see the recipe, I could have sworn you have to…!”

Not a word did I utter except to say: “gee, I’m glad you’re not cooking tonight, you would have screwed it up!”

Revenge in commanding way, she didn’t want to cook.

AFTER ALL, I’M JEWISH!

The trouble with minding my own business is that #2 Son does not recognize my need for solitude. No, it is a constant attempt to alter my state of mind, and create mindless opportunities with conversations that lead me to utter despair.

While contemplating my next move for the day: do I nap, eat, do some work, wood carve etc., #2 Son flies into the house and lands at my side, bursting with comments and things to say and do. This is the same child that peed on my shoes 19 years ago in the birthing room, sending a yellow stream in a steady arc, aimed so as to miss his Mother while the doctor held him up to prove he was a boy.

Me: “Hey, how are things in the worker’s paradise?” (He’s a budding socialist)
He: “I need for you to do some work for me.”
Me: “What, how much does it pay?”
He: “If you want I can pay you when Mom comes home and gives me some money from my account.”
Me: “Well when I work, I expect to be paid for it. What is it you want me to do?”
He: “I need some Klesmic (sic) music.”
Me: “What???!”
He: Klesmic music-Don’t you know what Klesmic music is?”
Me: “No, why don’t you tell me.”
He: “Jewish folk music. I love the sound of it, the flute sounds so cool. I’m surprised you don’t know what that is. You look Jewish. I think you probably know more Jewish words than you do Italian, and all my friends when they come here think you are Jewish. You look Jewish, in fact, we all look Jewish!”
Me: “Why don’t you look for it?”
He: “I tried and can’t find it.”
Me: “Now how am I suppose to find it?”
He: “Go to Walmart and look under the $3 CD’s and you should find it cheap.”

To think I could have been napping.

THAT CERTAIN LOOK

Recently TLW (The Little Woman) informed me that she wanted to go to Best Buy to buy a universal remote for the den. I mentioned that I wanted to go to Circuit City. She inquired why and I told her that The Macaroni Man had given me a gift certificate, and I wanted to treat myself. Being a wife she asked me more questions. “What do you want to buy?” Me being the husband in this case decided to answer her inquest.

Me: I want to get a recorder that I can carry around with me.
Her: Why?
Me: Because I can remember things better.
Her: What do you have to remember, what things?
Me: Oh, subjects about the blog I can write, or things I want to remember. Then I can get rid of this little pad I keep in my breast shirt pocket.
Her: You’re retired, what do you need to remember, besides, you look retired with the bulge in your shirt pocket.

I’m speechless, as usual. I should try spending more time napping and less time talking.

I can tell you that I do not always have a bulge in that pocket, nor do I keeps a lot of pens in it. The fact to the matter is I still drive like I always did, with TLW giving the car body English and saying things like: “OOH!”

OH, BROTHER! BROTHER JUSTINIAN THAT IS

He was a tall man, with jet-black hair and a protruding Adam’s apple. He wore a long brown robe and brown shoes with a white rope tied around his waist. He was the principle of the Boy’s section of Our Lady Of Lourdes Elementary School. He was THE MAN, not to be fooled with, when corporal punishment was in vogue.

One could clearly hear Brother Justinian while standing under the Broadway Junction El, as the train would clatter and rumble by, making things tremble in the wake of it’s passing! His voice was so powerful it commanded respect; you prayed you never had to hear it. The only time you heard his voice was when there was trouble.

He would patrol the schoolyard playground with his arms crossed and his hands tucked into his large oversized sleeves, not daring to look him in the eye for fear of retribution for something that you may or may not have done. If you were suspected of any transgression, a big hand, about the size of a football field would come down and lay waste to your head.

I was in first grade when I had my first encounter with THE MAN. I was not that good at telling time yet, but I did know the time that school started. As I entered the school building, with its golden brick façade and heavy green metal doors, I noticed how strangely quiet things were. No one was in sight. Standing in front of his office was THE MAN. Waiting for me to go by, he stood in his familiar pose, arms folded, hands hidden, feet planted, and a hungry look in his ferocious eyes. As tried to slip past him with my first grade leather brown school bag with straps and buckles, his arm reaches way down and holds my shoulder. I stopped in mid-stride: looking way up I noticed he is showing me his watch. “Please God, I don’t KNOW how to tell time yet,” I thought. THE MAN: “What time is it young man?” boomed his voice, nearly knocking me down. I look; I see the small handle pointing to the “9.” I’m saved! “9 O’clock!” I proudly proclaim. I think: “He’s going to kill me for being late, but I’ll at least know what time I died!

UNCLE EDDIE AND AUNT MARY-A LOVE STORY

He was a big man, very big. When he walked he stooped down somewhat and when he sat he wore the chair. He always wore his shirts out of his pants, and he came from the good people, people that worked with their hands and toiled long hours to make their lives bearable. Employed by Con Ed, a sheet-metal worker, who paid his bills and kept his life uncomplicated. He loved his Mary and a good visit with a beer or even a glass of wine. Give him a steak, a beer and Mary and it was heaven for him.

Mary was the love of his life; he didn’t have any real interest except old war movies and the “Duke”, his Duke, John Wayne and Mary. No pets, and certainly no dalliances of any kind. If you sat with him to talk, you were king or queen, you became special, treated like a brother or sister, never judging you, and insisted you join him for a glass or a pint. When family got together, he took out his accordion and played all the old tunes, most Irish ditties and “Mary”, and when he played that, he would look at his Mary and tears would well in his eyes.

He had a child-like innocence, a teddy bear look, and a very basic love for his country. When he got angry, it was because he heard someone make a disparaging remark about his America.

She was a lady, someone who spread laughter if she could, who could brighten up the darkest day and the darkest of hours. Mary was the light left on, waiting for you to come home during a stormy night. She loved her Eddie, she would admonish him on occasion, but loved him without fanfare or qualifiers, without showing any outward emotions toward him, but she loved him. She was a lady of great dignity, a moral compass as was her Eddie. Mary worked for years at St. Regis Paper as a secretary, She had a sister, Helen my Mother-in-law and three brothers, and she was the baby of the family.

They met late in life, being introduced by their paperboy, her nephew Tommy, never having children, they had adoring nieces and nephews, and later in life, the people that married into their families learned that loving them was natural and easy.

Then one day Eddie, walking down the street to his home from an errand for his Mary fell to the concrete and days later was gone. He had lain in a hospital for a few days, but his big heart was no longer able to beat, and a lot of hearts stopped beating for a moment when they learned he passed on.

And sometimes like a lot of love stories, Mary, Eddie’s Mary soon followed, when a few months later, after suffering for years with arthritis there was pain in her stomach and an ache in her heart. On a beautiful Easter Sunday close to midnight we got a call from the hospital that Aunt Mary had join Eddie.

If you believe in God, or if you don’t, believe this: they are together somewhere special, and you can hear the strains of “Mary” being played out on an accordion, the music drifting across an open room called paradise, the sun is shinning in his heart and her eyes as she looks at him play.

Today they are together one more time, sharing the same crypt in Pinelawn National Cemetery, as they always wanted it, as they always had; together.

SUPER BOWL, OR HOW BIG IS THAT POTTY?

OK, the grouch in me is coming out. Being how the Super Bowl was played yesterday, and two great franchises played in it, there were no real losers. However, the game itself is lost.

What am I saying? Think about this: when they played Super Bowls I, II, III, and IV, they played for significance to the fan. The rooting interest was about who was the champion of professional football. Today that significance is all but lost.

The hype is stupid, comparing head coaches physically, as if that would have an impact on the game. They compare cities, as if that would have an impact on the outcome, they (the press) make all these silly comparisons, based on some notion that these “stats” bear some kind of value to the real fan.

The problem I’m having doesn’t even end there; there are also the sponsors. Selling food for Super Bowl Sunday. When did deciding the national championship include a menu? No wonder we are all overweight, and looking sloppy. I can understand the sponsors wanting to sell to a vast market, one that has no age or sex limit, nor does it discriminate against locale, all are fair game in selling and marketing goods and services, let alone ideas. But come on, I want to see a game played by two great teams. I want to see football, long TD’s and open field tackling.

So we arrange a big spread that we lay out before us. We have chips, ribs, chile, beer, booze, we cook pastas and make dips, a whole array of food and drink. Mexican, Chinese, TexMex, Italian, even Kosher. When do we eat it? At the kickoff? Some of the participants don’t know a first down from down under, don’t know a field goal from a field mouse, just there for the party!

Well, for me, I’m watched the game, for the game’s sake, food did not play a part for me (I wouldn’t mention booze.) I had my dinner before the kickoff, and when I felt like snacking, I did.

Being how the Jets were not participants of this event they call the “Super Bowl”, could have defied my diet and get some Chinese dumplings, with that great sauce they put on it, maybe a little wonton soup, and eggroll, and afterwards as I try to sleep, ask myself this question: “What the hell was I thinking about? My stomach doesn’t want me to sleep, and I have to exercise tomorrow, how can I even move?”

Hey, life is filled with contradictions.

SPIDERMAN

I have been blessed with not only sons but nephews too. I have a few that remind me of myself, or a son, or my Dad, or even some of the women in my life, but one nephew stands out among them all. He is kind of special because he is my first nephew, my older sister (much older) Tessie’s second child. I am his godfather, and he my first godchild. He’s also a fan of the blog.

He reminds me to some degree of myself in that anything can go, and usually does. He is a very generous individual of who I’m very proud of, and like all the rest of my nephews, I love him like a son. He is great for traditions that relate to the family, liking the old ways that he grew up with. When you see John, he will wear a smile on his face, a comment on his lips and a very handsome face. (My side of the family)

I think of John as “Ivan the Joker”, master of the inside joke, teacher of the unabashed, lord of the devil himself. I say this sincerely because it is true, and like I said, he reminds me a little of myself. (Well, maybe a lot)

“Ivan” is a running commentary, that laughs at life and then makes critical observations about those around him, giving pet names to people that follows a family tradition that grew from our days in Brooklyn. If John ever joins the mafia, he will already have his moniker: John, Ivan the Joker. I can see the headlines now: “John (Ivan the Joker,) picked up today by the police for setting fire to the Chief of Police’s shorts, while dating his daughter.”

Of course I really know the true side of Ivan, he is very kind and generous. After a major operation, (I had my wallet practically removed from my pocket) he came over to the house and completely raked and bagged all the leaves on my property, and never asked for anything. That was a huge job! After all, it was still summer! (Only kidding, but he did do it well into the night.) I finally had to convince him to take some money.

He always greets his Aunt TLW (The Little Woman) me with respect. He is Son #1’s best friend in many ways, Son #2 models himself after John to some degree, a Nana yelled at me when he was born, because I didn’t see him until a week after he was born. I was working for two weeks straight, Saturdays and Sundays on Lufthansa, (Der Sherman Airlion) at my new job in the city.

He grew up as Spiderman, to #1 Son’s Batman, and together they ran around as superhero’s, and on Halloween, they saved the metropolis.

His greatest love is homemade macaroni, and some day, he’s coming over to eat some as I will make a couple of pounds of it for just the two of us and my other nephew The Macaroni Man himself. I will be amongst greatness and giants in the macaroni consumption world. (See Blog on “The Macaroni Man.”) TLW can come if she wishes, as can John and Macaroni Man’s Mom, and of course, Daddy John, John’s Dad. (If we can pull him away from his money.) Oh, we can’t forget Nana now can we.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOHN!
This blog is for you Pal!

WHEN IT IS GREAT TO GET OLDER

I can remember when I was a preteen, and even in my teen years, how I couldn’t wait to get older to be able to drive or join the service or go to college, or just to get a job. Not all those things are great shakes in themselves, but they do mark milestones in people’s lives.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of visiting my older sister (much older) and sitting there was her oldest, Laurie. Laurie is my oldest niece, my first claim to being an uncle. She‘s a teacher and has been for many years, and is married to a teacher. In fact there are so many teachers in my and TLW’s (The Little Woman) families, that whenever I have a get together like a graduation, there are so many teachers standing around, you have to raise your hand to leave the room if you want to get to the toilet!

Next to me at the dinner was my Mom, 89 in May and still volunteering at the local hospital with a “Boy Friend” in tow. I thought about the fact that she now has great grandchildren, and that her grandchildren are all making contributions to society, not necessarily as teachers, but in TV and movies, business and the arts, education, nursing, and maybe someday even a doctor or two. I think it is marvelous that from this little old lady while still cutting my meat, with 5 children grew so much pleasure in all our lives! I am very proud of my sons and nieces and nephews, creating and building from what their parents left off at, all good things happening so quickly and it seems so suddenly.

I remember when they came to us as children to adults, asking for help or direction, soliciting our opinions, and now, as they travel the world, do new things, learn new technologies, it is we the older generation that must look to them and ask for help.

It was yesterday that I got my drivers license, and now today the baby of the family has his, wow, where does the time go?

So to all you parents, uncles and aunts, grandparents and great uncles and aunts: Congratulations, you are experiencing this very same joy!

IT WAS A SNOW JOB!

Today as I look out my window, it is snowing, and it takes me back about 25 years ago on another snowy Friday. I hadn’t been on my new job 6 months yet, having worked in the city of New York practically all my career, when I took the position at Publishers Clearing House, located in hilly Port Washington. It was a Friday, and although the morning went quietly, the afternoon would prove something else.

I came back from lunch that day about 1:15 pm, with a light dusting of powdery snow falling, and a report on the radio stating that everyone should go home early if they could. Being how I lived 44 miles east of where I worked, I thought that that was a good idea.

Leaving my office about 1:30 pm, I started out figuring it would take my usual hour and fifteen minutes about two and a half hours, twice as much driving. There was still a light dusting on the road, but it was a little icy, and some slush was building on the center of the road. Along the way there is a long and curving roadway that concludes at a very steep incline, opening up into a three way intersection, traversed by buses and heavy trucks, along with the usual autos. As I started uphill, I notice many cars trying to negotiate the incline and some were spinning out of control and coming back down sideways towards me! I had to make it up that hill, because it was the only way out of the peninsula called Cow’s Neck. Slowly I went uphill in 2nd gear, looking for any dry spots I could find when suddenly a big green bus starts heading my way directly towards me sideways! Fear can grip you by the throat, as all my internal organs were sitting between my teeth, with my tongue holding them down from popping out of my mouth. Somehow the bus manages to grip the road again and recover, but I knees didn’t react as well. I finally negotiate the hill and have to follow this road that is one lane each way that leads to the main highway. I sit on this road for over an hour and a half, inching very slowly, one half car length at a time, with the snow starting to stick and coming down heavily. Between stops, I would jump out, clean a part of the windshield, wipe off the ice that was starting to build, and clearing off the side-view mirrors.

After about 3 hours of my journey, I finally reach the main highway, a trip that shouldn’t have taken more than 20 minutes! As I descend down the entrance ramp into traffic, I notice it is moving pretty well, and that hopefully no more than an hour would be spent on the road. The snow at this point is really coming down at an alarming rate, the traffic is responding to the snowfall and slowing down, but everyone is moving. Heavier and heavier comes the snow, and with it are whiteout conditions, not to mention that I need a toilet by now. Darkness is settling in quickly and I notice that more and more cars are starting to drift out of their lanes, something like a speedway.

Driving a little Toyota Corolla was probably the only good thing I can say about that day. Suddenly the wiper blade on my side stops working, as the ice buildup is occurring so quickly that everything is freezing up fast! I pull over to a rest stop and try to fix the wiper blade, but even with gloves, the cold and ice took over. I couldn’t grip the blade with the gloves on, and tried to do it without gloves. Impossible to even move my fingers. I decided I had to use my scraper as I drove to push off the snow and lean to my right to really get my bearings.

After a few hours more of intense tension, not to mention back and arm strain, I see my exit. It is pitch dark from the cloud cover and nightfall, but there is a tiny light hanging from the pole that lights the exit. The exit is covered with about 3 feet of snow! What do I do? I step on the gas, and plow through the drifts and get through. The rest of the ride was uneventful, but if it weren’t for the Toyota, I’d still be out there. When I walked in the door, TLW (The Little Woman) blessed herself and was just putting dinner on the table like nothing happened. I actually got home at my usual time!

WE DID IT!

I have a nephew about 5 years of age. Actually he is my niece Lauri Ann’s adopted son from Asia. She adopted him as an infant and he is as cute as a button, and smart as a whip. Now that I’ve gotten all the cliché’s out of the way, a few years ago, he was struggling to get a folded dishtowel onto a stove door handle, and after many attempts finally did. “I did it!” came the cry from this little tyke, and it stays in my head every time I accomplish something.

Today I proclaim: “We did it!” When I say “We” I mean: TLW (The Little Woman) and I that is. After many hours with our new remote, after trying to figure out what we did wrong to program it, then doing so successfully, we had to still learn how to operate it.

If you notice, there is a pattern starting to develop, my reactions have become more and more childlike! This is making me happy, this is where my life is heading? But I must tell you, that being able to operate a TV, DVD, VCR, Cable Box AND Tivo all from one remote is just terrific. We did this without the help of a teenager, too.

There will be no stopping me now, with or without TLW! Yes, I will go even further, I just need some challenges, something I can really sink my teeth into, and not get bitten back. It would help also because it gives me another subject to discuss with you dear reader.

To my little nephew Sean, the “I did it kid”, put on your pajamas and go to bed. Now.

All of today is not “We did it”, or “I did it.” I weighted myself today, and after two and one-half additional weeks of dieting, I lost “0” lbs.

0