A STUDY

About a month ago, TLW (The Little Woman) informed me that she would be unable to attend my niece Annmarie’s baby shower, and that I would have to deliver the gift. “Just drop it off, and you can leave.” She promised me. Being the wonderful, no, let me correct that, being the wonderfully great husband that I am, I said I would.

A few weeks later, my oldest sister (a lot older) called me confused about the place where this event was being held. I checked with TLW and she was now confused since she had lost the invitation! So, I called the mother or future grandmother, my sister Mary Ann, the flying stewardess. “It’s at that Chinese restaurant near you. When you come, stay, we’ll fix you a plate, and you can sit with Mom and us and eat. Besides, I’ll need you to help bring home all the gifts to Annmarie’s house. So you have to stay!” This made me uneasy, and I said I’d think about it.

The day arrives, and I lug in a huge box of what I think are bowling balls, but TLW claims is something else. Thinking to myself: ”TLW must have volunteered to work today so I would have to carry this complete set of starter materials to build your own home.” Entering the place, I’m directed to a side room, filled with cackling hens! Lots of them! Yakking and chatting and filled with talk. Being how I passed the buffet table, and was hungry, I decided to stay at their urging and conduct a study. (What I do for you people!)

What goes on in these things is something else. Ten minutes of eats and then they sit and talk while the mother-to-be sits on a chair up front opening gifts! No one in the room is paying attention! No one! This does not stop them.

The other thing I discovered is that at the next table, they were wondering who the ugly aunt was. Not willing to give up my cover, I decided that I would not let them know I was the ugly uncle. “Ohh, I think she’s dead! Call 911.” “No, stick a mirror under her nose to see if she is still breathing.” Said another. “I’ll bet her husband left her the first morning after the wedding.” added another. So, Ipso Fatso, this was becoming uncomfortable and so I decided to find some ice cream. That always makes me feel better: besides, I think I was starting to fill with water at that point.

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

OH! HOW I HATE A PARADE!

Years ago, as a little lad, Mom would feed me cream cheese and jelly on white bread, for lunch. Every day I would get cream cheese and jelly. This kept me quiet until dinner. As Mom got wiser, she suddenly switched to peanut butter and jelly. She realized the sheer economics of peanut butter in a jar and its costs as opposed to cream cheese in a package that needed refrigeration, and the fact that peanut butter gave you more sandwiches per jar than cream cheese in a package.

Then one day, I got terribly ill with a stomach virus! Yes, while eating peanut butter! I was so ill, I swore to myself that I would never eat peanut butter again!

As life worn on, eating peppers and eggs or potatoes and eggs on Italian bread for lunch became a norm, as did ham and cheese, baloney or salami. Meanwhile, my little sisters were emerging as paraders! Yes, they were parading around the streets of Long island, in fancy uniforms and playing or flinging instruments about, to nobodies business. They belonged to a school band, one was a majorette, and one played a clarinet. At this time, I was in college, studying to become an artist, and taking a course in photography. Mom and Dad went out and purchased me a camera, a 35mm Tower from Sears, and there was a price to pay for their largesse. I had to shoot pictures of the parades!

Every time there was a parade, I had to go and follow it along its route, and shoot. You might say I was a routing shooting toting photographer. After a day of shooting, one eye would remain closed for the day; from the sheer muscle tension of holding it closed! I think it was similar to tennis elbow; only I called it photographer’s eye.

Finally, I finished my course in photography, and laid down the camera, right in the middle of a St. Patrick’s Day parade at the intersection of the four corners in Patchogue! I went home and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!

Upon arriving home, my parents were furious, and as my two little sisters line up to eagerly watch my demise, they all found me in the bathroom, my head deep into the toilet, tossing up the peanut butter.

Dad looked at Mom and said: “I guess he went to one parade too many!” Mom agreed, and my little sisters walked away disappointed.

Please remember my brother-in-law John, and all those that need our prayers.

FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH

My opinion, that is.

Inside of a few days, we lost three big names in the Hollywood world. All three had some impact on the public. Each was an icon of sorts, or had an icon for them.

The first was Ed McMahon, the man that represented first Johnny Carson, then a host of products, and was the pitchman that was my company’s chief competitor, American Family Publishers. He was the symbol of sweepstakes, and only one man could say it like he did:” Heeerr’s Johnny!” He was a great straight man, and probably a pretty decent human being, too. He did Star Search and I found the show entertaining, he worked with Dick Clark and again, was entertaining for what he did. A no talent individual who could command respect and attention, and help the ratings! The foreclosure proceedings against his home were tragic!

Then there was Farrah Fawcett, also known as Farrah Fawcett Majors. Her blow-dried hair was an icon for little girls to emulate and dream about, and dirty old men to fantasize about. She was a huge hit in Charlie’s Angels, but it was when she did some serious acting that she gained my respect. She was beautiful and classy, and although her first marriage didn’t work out, who’s does these days? She seemed to do everything in her own style, and for 62 years old, that is too soon for the lady. The shame her son Redmond brought upon her in her final days, had to hurt her.

Then there is Michael Jackson. Michael was a talented individual who took entertainment to a new level, an improviser and an entertainer; he shook the world, not by his talents, but his bazaar lifestyle, and his gimmick of a single glove. Became symbols of sorts, and that mask he started wearing had me wondering. I knew he was in debt way over the budget of some countries, but was the mask for holding up Seven Elevens and gas stations to pay it off? Of course, his notoriety for his problems with the world, and his famous trial in which he was acquitted did not help his standing. It seems that he died suspiciously according to some.

I guess this is the beginning of the end, as my generation knows it. History is what we made, and more and more of our lives are becoming that, history. No longer do I look back at what was before my time, but what is now my time!

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

A FULL REBUTTAL

TLW (The Little Woman), the darling of midnight mayhem, has complained that no one has heard her story over the years. She claims that for the past 1,000 blogues on DelBloggolo, you have only heard my end of the story!

You all know that I always present a fair and honest assessment of the situation, before I even write it. I strive for honesty and accuracy, always representing the truth as I see it. Carefully, I check the facts; do in depth interviews of those who may have witnessed events, before I unfold them to you.

As a concession to TLW, in the spirit of fair play and cooperation, and to avoid ‘an accident’ from happening in the middle of the night, I have agreed to give TLW a chance to refute or respond to all I have written!

I will allow her to write anything she wishes, without censorship from my cracked staff of censors. I will neither add, nor subtract from her words, I will not even edit it! All I ask her is to refrain from her usual salty language.

Caution, unlike this writer, she may exaggerate things a bit to embellish her side!

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

CLEARING UP LIFE’S QUESTIONS

As #2 Son prepares for college, one of the things he needs is a medical history sent to the college. Al’s College is very strict about that kind of stuff, and so we comply.

Driving home from the doctor’s office, #2 had his medical record opened and he was reading it.

#2: “What’s diphtheria?”

Me: “Oh! You don’t know what that is! Well, diphtheria is when your diph gets out of whack. Not everyone knows this, but everyone has a diph.”

#2 Son: “Where is it?”

Me: “Right between the right cortex tweener and the veribose veins. If you get diphtheria, you have to wear a thong, a diphthong. Diphthongs can usually be seen as having two distinct parts — the nucleus, and the off-glide. The nucleus of the diphthong is in the bowel that is most stressed, and forms the center of the cortex, while the off-glide is the bowel that seems to flow into or off of the nucleus bowel. I hope that cleared it up?”

#2 Son: “Perfectly.”

I think it is important to explain things to people as best one can. This eliminates any confusion and if there are questions, which I doubt, they can be easily referenced by the explanations given.

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

OH, SHEET!

In the early morning hours of June 21, while most Americans slept, a battle was raging for supremacy.

Across the vast battlefield that served as a bed, two people were in a life and death struggle for the sheets. One was insisting on having it all, and one only asked for his fair share. It was your typical battle of good vs. evil, Armageddon, life and death!

TLW (The Little Woman) and yours truly, carried the battle for hours, silently vowing retaliation and destruction upon one another in due course for sheet supremacy!

Her: “You need to walk around the block! You didn’t walk yesterday.”

“OK, but why do you say that?”

Her: “Because you didn’t sleep last night.”

“No, I didn’t. How did you know?”

Her: Because you kept me awake. You took all the sheets!”

“Wait a minute. YOU were the one taking ALL the sheets! You had the side of the sheet that hangs over the bed on my side, in your hands, and you were pulling it. I was sitting there in the dark in my shorts, fighting for my very life, and you, with one foot in my chest, the other in my side, with both hands on the side of the sheet, my side, was pulling with all your might! I still have the foot marks in my chest!”

Her: “You need to walk!”

“Look, let me show you what I’m saying. You should have north tucked under your chin, south over your feet, and east on your right and west on your left. That is how the bed is made. I sleep on your left, but you had west in your hands, in a death grip!”

Her: (With a sheepish grin on her face) “You need to walk!”

Being a good husband, means never having to say: “Hey, give me some sheet!”


Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

FATHER’S DAY

This past Father’s Day was pleasant enough. I received a call from #1 Son, and a very thoughtful gift in the mail. A visit that sparkled from my daughter, Ellen, a great dinner from TLW (The Little Woman) and a gift, filled with character, fun, and a good laugh from #2 Son!

The day before, I went to the mailbox to retrieve my mail, and came upon a white, square envelope. I put it on the bottom of the pile and opened everything else first, and was almost tempted to toss the white envelope, thinking it was an ad! The weight and size, plus the fact that there was no return address anywhere, made me finally open it. There in a second white envelope was a tent card with the Apple logo embossed in silver on it. I opened the card, and there was a credit card with the Apple logo on it, and an amount that it was worth. On the card it only said: “Happy Father’s Day!” No name, or indication of where or from whom. But I knew who sent it, #1 Son.

I woke up the next morning, came down the stairs and TLW, after wishing me a “Happy Father’s Day”, asked if I saw the card from #2 Son, on the kitchen table. I looked, and sure enough, there stood a fresh, new, clean, paper plate with a message on it.

“Dear Dad,
Happy Father’s Day, you present is in the refrigerator.
Love, #2 Son.”

You must realize this is all the formality I’ve ever seen in his young life! Not only did he remember me on Father’s Day, but a ‘home made card’ to boot! This is a humbling experience. An experience that I will remember for the rest of my life! The present was a bottle of ‘Samuel Smith Old Brewery Oatmeal Stout’! It went great with the ribs and potato salad!

This is a lot like Italian cooking. Simple, direct, and it gets the job done!

When I hear: “It’s the sentiment that counts, this is one I will always recall as sentimental! Thanks family from the old man.

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

OK, SO I LIED!

Maybe just a little. I implied that I am totally lazy.

The other day, I, that is me, took the bull by the horns, and led it out of the house! That is correct, or so it seems. With all the rain we are having, things are starting to smell musty. TLW (The Little Woman) was working this past Saturday, and so I decided to take the house apart and clean it to get rid of the musty smell.

After the dusting, mopping, and vacuuming, I washed the floors and striped down the kitchen counter, and with vinegar and hot water, wiped down the counter top. I then tackled the bathrooms, cleaning and polishing, then, the kitchen oven was dealt with. Not satisfied, I went to work on the very top of the kitchen cabinets and the two large fans in the kitchen and den, the light fixtures, and yes, even those little tiny spots and tracks that sometimes evade me! By the end of the day, I was indeed tired, but happy with the results. So what happens? #2 Son, that’s what, happens. Oh, how I pray for the last week of August, that magical time when off to college he goes.

Now don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid, but when he is away, he really shines! He asks me that day: “Why does the house have to be clean?” This is a good question. Why? Some of you may ask: “Why”, me I ask: “Why aren’t you married and living with your wife, who can tolerate a dirty house if she wants to?”

I come down for a glass of water at 12 mid-night, and I find pasta sauce on the counter, crumbs and other signs of a life and death struggle with a commercial box of nourishment, that at first glance looks like there were no survivors!

I’m starting to sound like my mother! “MY KITCHEN!” Bad: no? I need a hobby, one that takes me to distant places, where #2 wouldn’t find me. I tried to keep it clean. I wanted to set a record with #2 in the house of 24 hours. Not 24 minutes, not 24 seconds, but a whole 24 hours. It is a record which will never happen. They may break Joe DiMaggio’s 56 consecutive game hitting streak, but 24 hours with #2 in the house will NEVER happen.

So, I retreat quietly to my recliner, and think of ways to avoid doing anything, until the end of August. If you hear me sobbing, know that I tried, but never even came close to a record. No, history will look upon me as a slob, not knowing the evidence to prove otherwise was wiped out, when the refrigerator door opened to #2 Son.

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY!

And by golly, I’ll say it!

I'll claim anything if it gives me an excuse not to work around the house for a bit. I think it is called “Writer’s block”, but not being a writer, I can’t claim that. However, that being said, I can’t claim “loafer’s block” because I NEVER have a problem with loafing, if you overlook ‘guilt’.

For years, I’ve taken a deep pride in being able to ‘rest’, and ‘preserve’ my body for better things than physical labor. I used to like golf, but discovered that I was starting to sweat around the 5th hole, and immediately laid down my clubs where I was standing (In the rough) and proceeded to the nearest “19th” hole to alleviate my pain.

To me, sweating is one of the first signs of work. The most immediate is the look in TLW’s (The Little Woman) eyes, when she needs something done. A day off is when she works, and I am free to roam about, (in my chair) and rest up for those days when she is home.

If I go to a restaurant, no matter if it is fancy or not, if I have to cut and chew for long, it is work. No question about it. I prefer my meals to be simple, easy to break apart with my fork, and better yet, finger foods.

This is not to say I am lazy. Hardly! I can spend up to three minutes changing channels or looking at a channel guide. After that, my eyes get heavy and I need to rest them. I consider that good eye hygiene!

I consider spelling too much bother or work, especially when I sweat over an ‘I’ or an ‘e’ or yes, even that sometimes elusive ‘y’!

The other day, I wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to do a little physical work. as I stood around the pool area, I tried to figure out if I wanted to pick up some leaves. Being how I had an empty can next to me, and a shovel and leaf bag, I picked up the shovel and broom, and almost began! Fortunately, I put them down quickly, and took care of my loafer’s block instead, in which I created a dream like sequence of events in my chair! (I must caution you dear reader, not to try this at home, unless you have experience.)

So, I sit here, with writer’s block, with nothing to say, as you just read!

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

A NOVEL IDEA!

It took me 19 months to write, and will probably take another 19 months to fine tune. If you see me walking down the street, and someone asks: “Who’s that?” Say, he’s a man who wrote a novel!

Having retired has opened up a lot of opportunities for me. I am very happy about that fact. The novel was never one of my retirement goals, but was born from a few good people that inspired and pushed the idea.

I was out in California in November of 2007, visiting #1 Son, in LA. Being how he IS a writer, I was inspired to pen together an outline of a story. It seemed that the story was coming together: on it’s own, and just needed to be put down on paper. Writing was becoming an obsession with me, due to this blogue, and so it all began. #1 Son suggested it, telling me to just write it, and worry about correcting it later. I took his advice and along the way, something else happened. It was a Sunday afternoon in November, right before a Christmas parade down the streets of Los Angeles. #1 Son had invited me to have lunch with some of his friends who I had met previously. (The Fab Five.)

At the lunch, were MFF (My Favorite Fan) Lauren, her beau, and now fiancé’ Justin, and both Pete the Teacher (Pete C, and Minnesota Pete, (Pete Dirkson) http://www.ucbcomedy.com/videos/play/4130 who really doesn’t come from Minnesota, but should. Jerrod, Justin’s brother, (another movie star looking guy, unfortunately, wasn’t there!) These were all bright articulate people that were encouraging ME, to write, Justin was a screenwriter, no less! Having read my blogue, they felt I should do it. I think THAT should be sufficient encouragement!

And so, I finished writing. There were some good days, and days when I couldn’t convince myself. I am happy with the ending, and hope to see it published. If it is, a good deal, of whatever I make will go to my daughter’s agency, NYSARC Inc, AHRC Suffolk, http://www.ahrcsuffolk.org/ along with my two sons. It is just a dream, but why not?

Between the Agency, freelance, art and now writing and the hopefully volunteerism at the church, the Parish Outreach and the Parish fund raising committee, I should die exhausted, but happy.

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

“YOHOO, I AM CALLING YOHOO!”

The other day, I was busy making dinner. Laying out the ingredients for chicken with escarole and mushrooms, and wondering why I like routines so much when my daydreaming was intruded upon.

The phone rang and I answered.

Me: “Yellow?”

“Hi!”

Me: “Hi?”

“It’s me! Are you ready for tonight?”

Me: “I guess so!”

“Same time, usual place?”

“Sure, but WHO is this?”

“Me, Virginia! Are we meeting at the same place and time tonight?”

Me: “Virginia WHO, and WHAT place is that?”

“Is this 000-0000?”

Me: “Yes it is.”

“Well, if you don’t KNOW what place, it doesn’t matter who, anymore!”

Here I am, sitting in a bunch of escarole, trying to figure out who that was on the phone, and if maybe I’m losing it and forgot, I’m having an affair! I can’t remember feeling guilty, so it must be a mistake on the other end.

I usually don’t get calls from strange women, just strange calls from women. Usually TLW (The Little Woman), or Tessie my older sister (A lot older, by the way), and yes, even Mom can do a number on the phone.

When TLW calls from work, it is usually a real nail biter, as I await her request or instruction to do something.

Many years ago, when I was working in Manhattan, she called me at my office with a request.

TLW: “Could you pick up a book for me, I think it’s called ‘Live It.’ By Richard Simmons?”

So, I go all over the city of New York, stopping at every bookstore and shop and ask for ‘Live It’. After saying it enough times you start to sound like a frog. “Livit, livit, livit.” People would hear me and start to feed me flies! The book she meant was “Never Say Diet.” Livit, Never Say Diet, you can see how she mi9ght get them mixed up!

There was a man on his deathbed. His wife, sitting next to him, with tear filled eyes leaned in to listen to his last words.

Him: “Remember when we were first married, and we crashed the car?”

“Yes” she nodded, wiping a tear away.

Him: “And remember when we were married just ten years, and the house caught on fire?”

Again, shaking her head vigorously, while remembering, and trying to be brave, she nodded “Yes!”

Him: “And remember that time last year, when you lost all my money in the stock market through your brother Malcome?”

Again on the verge of tears, and ready to break down she said: “Ye… yes!”

Him: “Boy, were you BAD luck!”

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

HOW LOVE GROWS

38 years ago, on this very day, I made my final ‘goodbyes’ to single life. What was once a restless journey to find myself, became an instant claim to adulthood, and the prospects for happiness seemed immediate. It was.

TLW (The Little Woman, Ellen by name) was the “candle that punched a hole in the darkness”, if I may borrow a phrase. She has been with me every step of the way, and I with her. There have been many highs, and some very deep lows, that neither of us caused, but it is what life is all about.

She has shown me what caring is, what a big heart means, what being a parent is all about. She is tenacious, bulldog like, yet loving, kind, and always caring. She is intelligent and a lady. If I did anything right in life, it is in marrying someone who puts herself second, even if she tells me to poop in my hat once-in-a-while.

I tell her she has no sense of humor, but believe me, that is what she does have. (She married me, after all!)

I have no claim to fame, except for making a great choice in my spouse, and having my children, but when people see me, they think, “there goes a lucky guy, he married well!”

TLW wasn’t born to money, but was born to wealth. She came from a large loving family, one that still stays in touch with each other. They carry life’s lessons in the package their parents gave them. They contribute to the world, and give freely. Their spouses are testimony to what a wonderful core of people they are.

You know when love is there. If you are comfortable with each other, can care for each other and not worry about yourself, then you are in love, and love is there. Partnerships are built that way, as are friendships. Random acts of kindness are frequent, as are the little things you feel. Love doesn’t have to be broadcasted to be felt, love doesn’t even have to be demonstrated to be known, but if love is present, it is true.

We can bicker. Oh, yes we can. But when it is all done and said, we allow room for each other to compromise, accept and say we are sorry. We never say hurtful things to each other, or ever wish ill will. After all, we are in love, and that grows with the years.

I can’t remember when you weren’t there
When I didn’t care for anyone but you
I swear we’ve been through everything there is
Can’t imagine anything we’ve missed
Can’t imagine anything the two of us cant do

Through the year, you’ve never let me down
You turned my life around, the sweetest days I’ve found
I’ve found with you ... through the years

I’ve never been afraid, I’ve loved the life we’ve made
And I’m so glad I’ve stayed, right here with you
Through the years

I can’t remember what I used to do
Who I trusted whom, I listened to before
I swear you’ve taught me everything I know
Can’t imagine needing someone so
But through the years it seems to me
I need you more and more

Through the years, through all the good and bad
I knew how much we had, I’ve always been so glad
To be with you ... through the years
Its better everyday, you’ve kissed my tears away
As long as its okay, Ill stay with you
Through the years

Through the years, when everything went wrong
Together we were strong, I know that I belonged
Right here with you ... through the years
I never had a doubt, wed always work things out
I’ve learned what loves about, by loving you
Through the years

Thanks, sweetheart, they’ve been the best years of my life, I love you, and I know how love grows!

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

SCHMUTZ!

Yes, that evil word, ‘schmutz’ is the topic of this blogue!

What seemingly was an ordinary, customary call to my 91-year old mother, turned into an adventure of some magnitude!

“Hi Ma, how ya doin?”

Mom: “Oh, I’m feeling just fine! How are you?”

“Good, just callin’ ta see how ya doin.”

Mom: “How’s the family? By the way, (Here it comes) I got this thing in the mail from your sister-in-law Angela. I put in the DVD player, but all I get is this guy with his arms raised, and a lot of jazz like music or shouting, then nothing happens! I called Henry (her 87 year-old boy toy) to take a look at it, and he can’t figure it out either!” (I know, I’m very disrespectful)

“Hmmm, is it a CD disc?” I ask.

Mom: ”What?”

“Is it a CD disc, a shiny round thing that you put in a CD player?”

Mom: “You think I should put it in the thing where I play my music? You know, I did that. I got some music, but I couldn’t figure it out! Henry tried and he got the same thing!”

“Well, Ma, I think what Angela sent you was a movie, a documentary, ‘Young at heart” about some elderly people that take part in a chorus of rock songs.”

Mom: “Oh, gee,, and I wanted to thank Angela, too. That was very sweet of Dennis and Angela to do that!”

“You mean you won’t thank her anyway?”

Mom: “Hey, don’t get so smart, of course I’ll thank her, I just don’t know what to do. I think they should get their money back, that’s all, but how do I say that?”

“Well Ma, just thank them, don’t put them through some trouble.”

Mom: “Maybe you’re right.”

I hang up and think about it.

TLW (The Little Woman) is sitting next to me, knitting some booties for #2 Son for when he goes away to Potsdam for college in August.

“Joe, maybe you should go over there?”

“OK.” (I’m hen-pecked)

I arrive at Mom’s house, and who greets me at the door but Henry, Mom’s 87-year old boy toy. (I know, I’m disrespectful)

Henry takes out the CD, and suggests I put it in the music player first.

“You should put it in there first, that’s what I did!”

Being the young whippersnapper that I am, I disregard his advice and put on the TV, and turn on the CD Player., and pop in the CD.

Just like they say, nothing is happening. I suggest that maybe there is something wrong with the CD player, and I am greeted by an icy stare that says, “Better you should deny I’m your mother, than suggest that that CD player has something wrong with it!”

I try a second time, and this time the CD is rejected with a message that states the CD is unreadable! This gives me a clue! I take the CD, look closely, and there on the back is schmutz! Yes, I found schmutz!

“Henry, you better tell your girl-friend there, that she has to dust her CD’s!

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John

MAKING LIFE ADJUSTMENTS.

I have decided to make an adjustment in my life. Something I always wanted to do, I will try. There is a program in my church called Parish Outreach, where one can volunteer to visit the sick or dying. One goes and visits, and it is very simple.

I’m not one of those holier than thou types. God only knows what a bum I really am, but this is an opportunity of a lifetime to ease a little suffering. I think of people who I’ve met, people that I‘ve like or loved, people who were all alone, people dying or wasting away in old age homes, people without hope, whether they know it or not. Maybe I can coax a smile on a face, or just give them some company. They won’t owe me anything, just their trust and friendship.

Life is a great teacher. It taught me that in spite of what I don’t have, what I do have far out weights it. I love to meet people, learn about their lives, and maybe pick up a hint or two about how to live mine.

Frankly, I’m not sure if they the people of Parish Outreach will want me. I hope so, I could use the chance to give a little, and not worry about the little things in life like what the Mets did last night. I can tell you this, if there is a chance, and I do what I hope to do, I will, without naming names, give you a little of that lesson from my standpoint in the blogue. I still plan to give you guys the scoop, when I recognize it and scoop it, or when I don’t recognize it, and step in it! But this outreach program will pop up every once in a while.

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

TWENTY YEARS OF SERVICE!

It was twenty years ago, that I stepped to the plate at my daughter’s agency, and said; “Yes!” Twenty years later, I am still eager to help and hope I have another twenty years at the least.

It all started out quite innocently on my part. I never sought to become a member of the Board of Directors of NYSARC Suffolk AHRC, but was nominated, then interviewed. It seems all I wanted to do was help the agency, by doing whatever art work they might have needed. I recall TLW (The Little Woman) saying to me that if I were elected to the Board, she would be proud of me. I always need TLW to be proud of me.

Twenty years later, I still find it a privilege to be a member of the board. I have met some wonderful people along the way, as a board member, chairperson of various committees, and president of the board. The honor has always been mine, and that they are recognizing MY twenty years, astonishes me and makes me feel honored and humbled. Believe me, with my big mouth, it is a wonder they don’t just move the meetings to another location and ‘forget’ to tell me where.

It is something to meet people that are totally dedicated to their work. You can have your titles, diplomas, and degrees, but you are not the professional I see every time I visit the agency. From the day care people, underpaid and understaffed, but greatly appreciated, to the instructors, medical people and office staff, the devotion and professionalism are better than anything I have ever seen. They enable the physically and mentally disabled, to have meaningful lives. The program directors, the people who oversee the quality of care given, are without a doubt, the finest anywhere. The deputy executive directors are not only administrators, but God given to those they care for, and those they truly cherish.

There is one man, Joe P.Mammolito, leader and honest to goodness executive director’s executive director, that oversees everything. Without him, the agency would not have had the success that it has. The man is caring, professional, and brilliant in his duties, and consistent in his devotion.

Finally, there are my fellow board members. Ordinary people like me, but smart, dedicated overseers, of a multi-million dollar agency, who help direct the agency under the guidance of the executive director.

But I don’t need recognition for what I do. I am grateful that the board members listen to my ramblings, and my jokes. That they stay in the same room with me, allow me to speak and give me the courtesy of their interest is more that I should ask for. That the staff listens to me when I offer something, and that they give me the opportunity to work on occasion with the beautiful people we serve, my people.

Thank you, one and all from the bottom of my heart.

http://www.ahrcsuffolk.org/
Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

DOG GONE

Friday evening we noticed that Happy, our cocker spaniel was limping, favoring her right hind leg! So I had to pick her up to carry her upstairs and down. She was taken to the Sachem Animal Hospital the next day and we were told that she is getting old that her kneecap is out of place. The doctor gave us some meds to alleviate the pain.

As we sat waiting for the doctor to call us in, there was a young guy, in his twenties, bristling with muscles and sunglasses. In one hand was the leash for a 200 lb lab, and in his other hand was his customary, and obligatory cell phone. Today the kids are all in mourning, and this guy was no exception, all in black!

Coming out of the doctor’s office and passing us all by, this short, middle aged guy with a cardigan sweater and his little dog on a leash. Seeing the young stud, he put his head down into his button down shirt and never looked up, running out of the office.

I looked down at Happy, and felt that maybe this wasn’t good either. Maybe I should have a Doberman, or a German shepherd: or better still, a wolf! Yes, a wolf! That would show the young studs, who is boss.

When I walk Happy, it never feels, that some showoff with a large dog goes by, and I feel like I have a kitten on my leash. Yes, a wolf would be better. I can read their minds: “Ha-look at that sissy dog, must be like the owner.” I’ll give him sissy!

Happy is not afraid to bark and growl, that is because we named her Happy. She wanted to be named something other than a nice dog. If anyone says to me in the next two weeks, as the doctor did: “Happy is not too happy!” I will rip his heart out and feed it to Happy.

Felice, lo morde!

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

FLAG DAY

I guess I’m old-fashioned. I love the flag. Always have and always will. It stands between tyranny and me. It allowed me to raise my children the way I want, and it allowed me to choose whom I wanted to run this great country. I didn’t always get my wish, but there is always a next time!

There’s an old joke that goes:

Two boys sat on the steps of the United Nations Building.
One boy was from the U.S.A., and one from the then U.S.S.R.
They were arguing about who had greater freedom in his country.
The American said, “I can sit on the steps of the White house and say anything I want about America, and not worry about going to jail!”
The Russian boy thought about it, and said, “I can sit on the steps of the Kremlin, and say anything I want about America, and not worry about going to jail!”

I once visited Arlington National Cemetery, and the rows and rows of hero’s humbled me. It made me feel unworthy of their sacrifice. It is indeed a holy place, the place of resting heroes. I think about how many families were effected by their lose of life, how many children never met their fathers. I think about the widows, the brave women who raised those children, who had no help, who never were bitter at the flag.

I see the flag, and I see old veteran’s standing and saluting it as it may parade by them. I think we should be saluting them as it goes by. I wonder what fears they had when someone was shooting at him or her. I wonder how many times they thought, “Today may be the last day of my life.” But they still went out and did their jobs. God bless them all!

I see the flag, and I see the millions of children who are fed worldwide, in the last hundred years! The starving nations of Europe and Asia, ravaged by a great war, twice in the 20th Century, were save by the Flag I salute.

I see they flag, and I see the couples, old and young, strolling hand in hand. They stroll in peace. They don’t worry about religious rules that govern their dress, or having to wear beards that govern their lives.

I see the flag, and I see the happy faces of little children, secure in the faith of their parents and their love of their country.

I see the flag, and I see the great triumph of NASA, the genius of our scientists and engineers, the teachers and clergy. All free and all doing their part.

Sometimes when I see the flag, I see and hear the detractors, the complainers, and the losers who blame this great flag for all the ills of the world. I wonder how they come to such conclusions.

When I went off to college, I had nothing. I had no money, no transportation of my own, and all I did have was the hope and freedom to change all that for myself. The State of New York lent me money; the part-time jobs did the rest. When the funds weren’t enough, I didn’t eat, I borrowed a book I needed, or hid on a train to get to school, where I hitched rides back and forth to classes, from the Westbury R.R. Station to Northern Boulevard. But I never felt the Flag owed it to me. It gave me what it owed me, the freedom to change my world for the better. It comes like it came for my ancestors, of whom I am very proud, it came from hard work and belief in myself.

I hear argument that America killed so many innocent Japanese at Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, and I don’t hear of Pearl Harbor, or the rape of Nanking, and the Holocaust seems to slip their minds. They can’t compute the lives we saved that were American, during our time of war, when we dropped those atomic bombs, nor can they understand that their discomfort is being expressed in the comfort and friendly confines of the U.S.A.

God bless America, and God bless the flag.


Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

ORIGINALITY IN LANGUAGE

The other day I was speaking to a young man about life in general, and things that were of mutual interest. It seems like his desire was to impress upon me that he found my life ‘awesome’. After every statement I made, his response was ‘awesome’.

Me: I fell down the stairs, lost my eye and threw up on a nun!
Him: Awesome!

I stole from your mother’s pocketbook.
Him: Awesome!

Your sister is doing tricks at the pier for fleet week, and I’m getting a cut of her profits.
Him: Awesome!

You get the idea. Of course, these things never really happened. I call the use of such phrases: “perfume phrasing” that is, phrasing used to overly impress, and sound “Cool”. (I’ll get to that in a minute.)

Through the years, perfume phrasing has been in use in different forms. Years ago “getattahere!” was the common response. If a statement was believable or not, the response was “Getattahere!

Hi! I just moved in across the street.
Him: Getattahere!

Your girlfriend and I want to use either here, or the back seat of your car for a few moments.
Him: Getattahere!

After enough people did get out, the speaker realized he was losing a lot of friends and changed his response to: “Cool”. Yes, everything turned cool, in spite of the fact that the ice age was indeed over long ago.

Help! My house is on fire!
Him: Cool!

Don’t mind me, I’m just installing a car bomb under your hood.
Him: Cool!

There were some people who were in need of a second chance. Their response to life’s ills was: “GIMMEABREAK!”

Doctor: “I’m sorry, I don’t know if we can save your leg!”
“GIMMEABREAK!”

Finally, but before “awesome” came “Like Wow!” And “Like” itself, being interjected before every word.

I was caught in the middle of a herd of elephants, was stepped on and, Like Wow!”

Like, hello?

All, perfume phrasing, brought to you by those with a lack of imagination.

I find it: like awesome.

Please remember all those that need our prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

TONY (Dad) September 9, 1916 – June 12,1991

THE OLD MAN
By: John McDermott

The tears have all been shed now
We've said our last goodbyes
His souls been blessed
He's laid to rest
And it's now I feel alone
He was more than just a father
A teacher my best friend
He can still be heard
In the tunes we shared
When we play them on our own

(Chorus)
I never will forget him
For he made me "what I am"
Though he may be gone
Memories linger on
And I miss him, the old man

As a boy he'd take me walking
By mountain field and stream
And he showed me things
not known to kings
And secret between him and me
Like the colors of the pheasant
As he rises in the dawn
And how to fish and make a wish
Beside the Holly Tree

I thought he'd live forever
He seemed so big and strong
But the minutes fly
And the years roll by
For a father and a son
And suddenly when it happened
There was so much left unsaid
No second chance
To tell him thanks
For everything he's done


Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.

OH, MY LOVE, MY APPLIANCE!

TLW (The Little Woman) and I have a pact that we break every time! Whenever we think about buying something, whether we need it or not, we say: “Now, we are just LOOKING, We are not buying today, just looking.” Then, after we sign the purchase agreement we say: “THIS is the last time. Next thing we buy, we are just looking first!”

Take for instance, our oven. It is a policy of mine to always establish a good relationship with all the appliances in my home. Since appliances have been known to turn on me, I have learned not to curse them anymore, at least not in their presence. However, that does not mean I can’t harbor resentment towards one or two. For years, I have disliked my oven. I admit it, I often say there should not be room in one’s heart for hatred, but I really hate the oven. Recently it started to act up, and refused to broil my steak! I will not tolerate, ever, stubbornness, not from ANY appliance! When we bought it, I hated it. I wanted a stove top with a griddle on it, but TLW said, and I quote word for word, over 12 years ago: “NO!”

Looking back, all those years of having to play musical oven with the darn thing, wishing for a griddle, I was like a relative in a will, waiting for the “old man” to die! Then, suddenly, when I least expect it, IT DIES! Yes! Dead, D-E-A- D, dead! Oh, happy days!

So, up the next morning, we swear fidelity to our slogan: “We’re just looking” and immediately buy a brand new GE, with a griddle that runs down the center. This is better than Christmas and birthdays. Soon, sometime today, they will arrive and takeaway the old Whirlpool, that pathetic excuse for an oven. The burners never worked properly, the darn thing made a lot of noise, and I now will get a GE, with a griddle, oh, what happiness!

Please remember all those that need our hopes and prayers, including my brother-in-law, John.