BREAK FAST

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My old classmates from high school, Bellport High School, get together on occasion and try to keep in touch. We have been doing this since 2010 when we had a reunion for the whole class, and now we are planning another reunion for our 50 years as graduates of the august institution I have just mentioned.

What a great bunch of lookers!

The occasion for this gathering was the yearly visit of one Martha Scott, one of my original dates going way back to 8^th grade. She and I tripped the lights fantastic or something like that at a sweetheart dance I believe. After the double date, we coked and dined (Soda folks) at Donato’s Pizzeria and Restaurant, on the deck outside under the moonlight. Life was simple, you just made sure you got home by 11:00 PM or else.

As you know the definition of breakfast is to break the fast of the night, and at 9:00 AM I was ready to break anything if I didn’t eat soon, and fast! However, the fast we broke collectively was one of not seeing each other. You might say it was a sweet repast.

It is great meal when you eat with friends. It is one of the past times that give me pleasure, just like when I eat with family. We talked about old times, tried to clear our memories of certain places and things and talk about who is still alive. No one checked my pulse so I assume they think I am still alive.

The class itself has always been filled with spirit, class spirit, and I think that that is the greatest gift one can have besides the education you get from High School. These are people who have lived their lives and some of our years have been tough, and some great, but all of them have taught us something, that life goes on, but that we must never lose touch with one another, or who we really are and where we came from.

Its always a pleasure, guys!

WHAT’S GOIING ON?

Mezuzah

I can’t help but notice that lately there has been a lot of awareness about the Holocaust, and the ugliness that came with. The other morning April 8, on a news show they reported how someone had targeted a cluster of apartments in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn and burned Mezuzahs, sacred objects that are attached to an entryway of homes. April 8 is Holocaust remembrance day.

There is a lot of mention on Facebook that I have seen and people are commenting. Anti-Semitism along with gay bashing seems to be coming to the forefront. It seems that a lot of people are finally starting to speak out, and I don’t mean just Jews and Gays.

We should NEVER forget! To persecute, prosecute and then murder for a belief in God, the crime is the biggest one can perpetrate against not only mankind, and the Jewish people, but God himself!

I know a lovely lady, one who no one would think of hurting in any way, put in words what she goes through. I say ‘Goes through’ because it is still going on. She is Jewish, and her last name was not, I used to call her ‘Mex’ because it sounded Spanish.

“Growing up as a Jew with a non-Jewish name (and, apparently, not "looking" like a Jew, whatever that means), I have heard the most disgusting comments about Jewish people my whole life. Right to my face. People think they are commiserating with a fellow goy when they are actually speaking to someone who grew up in the shadow of the Holocaust. I've heard really heinous things from the most unlikely people... I know the hate and ignorance still exists. It burns in people, and it's frightening.”

This lovely young woman is a talented writer; she owns a smile that hides her beautiful brown eyes. This is what we should hate?  Her belief in God is her business, she never raised a hand against a Muslim or a so-called Christian, you know the ones I am talking about, they love Jesus, and want you to, too. Of course it slips their mind when they bash a gay person or slander a Jew.

I have a friend, my best friend, a man who has always been there as a brother, not a Jew, not a anything but a brother. He and I met in college and we have stayed friends ever since. He is a Jew, and I am proud to know him, proud that he would count me as a friend, but I am not pinning laurels on myself, what I am saying is he is as Christian-like as few Christians are. His are actions, not pronouncements that speak for themselves, who is the better Christian? He is.

Years ago, I had a friend who was gay, who was a great guy. I hired him to work for me and I knew he was gay. But I also knew he could make my life easier as I ran my department. We got to be close friends, and we never discussed his being gay, and I never needed to. He was a good guy, worked harder than anyone I know, and we always stayed in touch. Then one day I left the company and went to work for a new company, and I hired him once again, he was that good. He wasn’t your stereotyped gay man: he was a man who was gay. He started to get sick often, calling in for time off, and this became more and more frequent. A fear developed in my mind and I was right, he had aids. Finally I had to know for his sake, because there was insurance involved and he needed the health plan. I went to HR and he was set up, set up to die. He was confiding in me about his being gay, and we talked once a week. He had gone home to die in Pennsylvania, where he finally succumbed to aids. His mom sent me a letter telling me how much it meant to her son that I stayed with him to the end, that I supported him. His being gay had affected me, it made me realize that his being gay was his business, that he didn’t hate anybody, and didn’t deserve to be hated in kind.

Jews, Gays, who cares? What the hell does it all matter to you or me or that punk who looks for trouble? Who is to say being Christian is right? Other Christians? How can you condemn anyone for believing in God? I often wonder if believing in Jesus gets in the way of believing in God. Does it color or complicate the relationship directly with God? God is God, no one can take that away, but if we all believe in God, then why do we pick on innocent people?

QUESTIONING EVERYTHING

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It seems I’m getting very edgy and suspicious in my old age. I used to believe everything people in authority told me and I never waivered. Then one day I saw a little discrepancy in things I thought were true and began the journey to doubt.

Perhaps the biggest mistake I made in life was believing a doctor’s nurse. It seems we had an issue with one of the kids and the nurse who answered the phone told me what we should do. I did it and discovered that she was dead wrong! I not only got angry, but to this day I will not talk to a nurse when it comes to medical decisions.

My doctor, Dr. Strangeglove

Then there was the doctor himself (in general) hearing too many horror stories about doctors and their mistakes led me to question them and although it can be uncomfortable for both of us, I feel better asking the questions and speaking up. The doctor was always gospel to me, now, no more.

I won’t tell you what I think about religion in general and some of the things I was led to believe they say are true, I questioned them and the more I question, the more problems I have with it all, tossing old beliefs aside like used Kleenex.

Politics- well I am so alienated by politicians and the backbone of politics, both the media and the law profession, I get angered and disappointed, horrified and disillusioned by what I hear and see today.

Funny thing is I am becoming more tolerant of the fact that I was duped but grateful that I see the discrepancies and falsehoods I have come upon. I don’t harbor any anger, nor do I feel that those who do believe in what they do should change. I don’t think I’m better than those people, just a little different, not wiser.

I notice there are other people out there who feel the same way I do, with similar backgrounds and experiences. I think we are all coming into a new age, enlightenment so to speak, maybe even a renaissance! I think it is good to question, to bring pressure on all the old institutions and make them prove otherwise, it frees up the mind, cleanses the spirit and refuels the needy machine of learning, especially the truth.

If I could give you one example, it would be the day you learn as your parents child, that they were not always correct, that you can view in another light, and it doesn’t upset you.

And so this story…

There was an old Jewish couple, married for 50 years, and the husband Jake one day asked his wife Ruth if she ever in those fifty years cheated on him.

Ruth was a little hesitant at first then decided to come clean.

“Yes Jake I did.”

“Oh! How many times?” he asked, shocked.

“Well Jake… three times” Her head was down and she could not look up at him.

“Three times! When?”

Summoning up the courage to even talk to him she began:

“Well Jake, remember that time when we were first married, and we wanted that nice apartment we had, how the landlord was such a schmuck about our being late with the rent one month and wanted to throw us out on our keisters? Well I paid him a little visit, and we didn’t get thrown out.”

“Oh, and what about the second time?” Jake asked, feeling nervous.

“The second time, Jake, was when we bought our house, and the bank president wanted that ridiculous amount of money for a down payment, you remember that Jake? She asked.

“Yes, yes I do, he came down with the amount of money.”

“Yes Jake, he did, because… I paid him a little visit.” At this point she is about to leave when Jake speaks up.

“WAIT… What about the third time, you said there was three times?”

“Now remember Jake, I did all this for you, can you remember that?” she asks.

“Go on” says Jake, “what happened?”

“Well, remember last year when you were running for condominium board president, and you were 15 votes short?”

LIKE A FINE WINE?

Every morning when I get up, I go down for my coffee and read the newspapers. I write this blogue first and then turn to Newsday or the Daily News. The Daily News has been a habit of mine for decades, since Dad used to give me a nickel and send me across the street to Sam’s Candy store on Stone Avenue and Hull Street, now a store-front church in Brooklyn.

In Newsday I read the news first and then the sports pages, but the opposite occurs when reading the Daily News. Since I was an avid Brooklyn Dodgers fan growing up, it was the first thing I looked for. I used to watch my Dad read the same paper and that is exactly what he did, with his coffee and a cigarette, he would pinch the pages as he went backwards through the paper!

So I will every morning read the papers. But to read them and get comfortable with the type, I need to take off my glasses first. So I debate where to lay the glasses. Putting them on my table next to me is not a good idea since that is where my coffee is, and I’m afraid of breaking them or spilling the coffee as I place the cup down after sipping it by hitting the glasses. I don’t like to put them in my pocket because I run the risk of ripping my shirt, and on my lap is out of the question. Holding the glasses in my hand is a bad idea because the lenses get smudged. This goes on when I work on my computer, reading a manuscript or information, I am constantly flipping my glasses on and off my nose, and it is annoying!

Then I got this idea. Why don’t I get an eyeglass holder and then the glasses can hang around my neck off my chest. This is good because it is convenient; I look my age, and who cares, right?

I tell my significant other, TLW (The Little Woman) and she starts to smirk. I look at her and her smirking is growing expeditiously, and without cessation!

”What’s wrong?”

 “You want an eyeglass holder!?”

“Well yes, it will be convenient when I constantly take off my glasses while reading.”

“That's for old people.”

“But it IS convenient.”

“It will make you look OLD!”

“I DON'T care.”

“Did you look in the junk drawer?” (Every family should have a junk drawer: it is where you keep the little things in life you want to save in case you need them. If you throw them out, you will need the junk someday, if you don’t throw them out, you will NEVER need to use them-guaranteed.)

I walk away feeling a sense of inadequacy, a loss of my youth, and a need to NOT let it bother me, even if it does. Now I am committed to wearing it and I must overcome my sense of humiliation, in other words, TLW is screwing with my simple mind once more! Then it hits me! TLW did say: “Did you look in the junk drawer?”, did she not? Why would she have an eyeglass holder in the junk drawer, unless she owned it herself once?

Anyway, today is TLC’s (The Lovely Courtney’s) birthday! She doesn’t use eyeglass holders and I hope she never needs them.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY COURTNEY!

I hope you enjoy your day, and the only wrinkles you ever have are the ones you can iron out!

Love,

Joe and Ellen!

OVERCOVER BOSS

Many years ago, when I was a youngster about 11-years old, Dad started to take me to work with him on Saturdays to Rollic Inc., on Main Street in Patchogue. One might refer to it as a sweatshop with its low paying jobs for the operators of the sewing machines. It had been around since the 30’s and there was even a picture of the work floor when it first opened that sat very large in black and white over the entrance to the factory on the wall of the office. It was a very successful supplier of children’s play clothes for the then Sears and Roebuck stores. I would get a few bucks to help Dad, and I loved the money.

As you are aware there is a show on Friday nights called Undercover Boss, and takes the CEO into a disguise as he goes through his company seeking answers to questions about success and failure, morale and conditions of workers. At the end he gives away money, vacations and other things such as training for higher jobs. The recipients usually have very sad stories about a loved one or themselves, and the healing hand of the CEO reaches across the table and everyone cries, a feel good show.

Rollic had a CEO and owner, Mr. Alexander Wilhelm Pfieffle, (The old man) who was the kind of guy who could fit the bill. There was always talk from the disgruntled failures in the company that knocked him and they really never could come to understand what it meant to own a business. They were employed by his good graces and probably could not make the money they were making if it weren’t for him. None of these guys were rocket scientist, and outside of their little worlds there was not very much. He was a tough old SOB, could get under your skin and was very demanding of his work force. But under the cashmere sweater, the alligator shoes and blue Cadillac was a heart of compassion and gold.

The Old Man was also on the board of the local bank, and a patron of his local church, while also a fireman and I believe a former fire chief.  Dad had a great deal of respect for him and he had for Dad. They fought like cats and dogs when the day was over, both knew where the other was coming from.

Once Dad was leaving work on a Saturday about noon, and he goes out to his car and finds one of his tires is flat. This is the late 1950’s and the Old Man comes by and sees it. He takes a walk around the vehicle and sees the shape of the rest of the tires and reaches into his pocket, and pulls out cash enough to buy 4 new tires and tells Dad to go buy himself some tires.

My first art job!

There were the summers when he would hire kids home from high school and college and give us jobs, and if we had friends, they got jobs too. And there was the time I was in college, in 1967. It was a beautiful warm evening on April 14^th, a Friday and I was heading back to my rented room in Hicksville when I was involved in an automobile accident that almost took my life. He created a job for me to design ads and in-store displays while in a full leg cast, and giving me money to cover my tuition for the coming semester.

Then there was the day my folks wanted to buy a new house: he made them go to his bank where he got them a great mortgage and a great rate, always taking care of Dad. Just the best boss you could really have.

So he was a generous man, not only to his employees but also to the community, and he could give you an uplifting hand when you needed one, but didn’t ask. He deserved to be rich, but not so much because he WAS rich or helped others less fortunate, but because he built the business himself through hard work and the loyalty of those who believed in hard work themselves. I had two aunts who worked for him; one was instrumental in getting Dad the job, and two sisters who worked in the summers along with me.

He may be gone, but not forgotten by me!

YA WANNA BUY A WATCH?

Every now and then I get silly. I do something that amuses me and I do it for my sake. Sometimes this makes TLW (The Little Woman) cringe, but hey, I only live once.

There is an old Jewish routine that goes back to the Jewish circuit in the mountains, a traveler comes upon a farm and wants to befriend the farmer, maybe get a meal out of him and decides to use comedy on the farmer.

“Excuse me sir, how do you sell a chicken to a deaf man?” asks the traveler.

The farmer looks at the traveler and shrugs his shoulder: “I don’t know, how?”

At the top of his lungs the traveler yells: “YOU WANNA BUY A CHICKEN?”

Silly joke and very old, but it still makes me laugh. The joke was told to me by a guy named; Sam Schwartz, who ran the Production Studio where I once labored for a famous contest company many years ago. In fact it was Sam that taught me so much about Jewish humor and how very relevant it can be in certain situations. Another old Jewish joke from the Borsch Belt: Question: Why do husbands die before their wives? Answer: They want to!

So I decided to go to the Mall one day last week and as I wandered through Macy’s on my way to the Apple Store, my mind is wandering remembering the old joke having just seen it on the Internet, and I see this gentleman who reminds me of Sam and the jokes. I go through the jewelry section and behind the counter is the young woman bored out of her mind waiting for her first customer of the day. She is staring out into the store with her arms folded and her hip leaning into the display case filled with watches. Not being a very mature person and sometimes should be supervised, it struck me that I needed to convey the essence of the chicken joke.

Going up to the salesgirl I ask:

“How do you sell a watch to a deaf person?”

See looks at me without saying anything, but her eyes are focused on me, not moving from her pose. So I told her:

“DO YOU WANNA BUY A WATCH?”

Taking off and a little red in the face for yelling, as I got to cosmetics, I can hear her laughing out loud in the almost empty store!

The moral is: Don’t tell me any jokes,

WHERE HAVE ALL THE GEEKS GONE?

Looking at my laptop I decided I have too much stuff on it and need to get some of it off. I have a backup hard drive that sits attentive to my desktop computer, so I will put the stuff I want from the laptop to the backup. I decide to go to the Apple store to purchase a cable or fire wire or time bomb or whatever the hell they call it.

I enter the threshold of the store and can’t get two feet when the people in blue surround me. These are the geeks, the heart and motherboard of Apple. I get a woman geek, and this is our first experience as geek-geekee!

“I need a cable to connect from my laptop to my desktop.” This is technical stuff.

“What kind of laptop do you have?”

“A small white one.” More technical stuff!

“We don’t make those anymore!”

She says to follow her into the kingdom and comes upon this other geek who is introduced to the conference and takes over. He is more interested in shaking my hand and introducing himself. I explain my situation and he leads me to the cables. He looks and starts to ask me how old the laptop and desktop are. I of course have no idea, since time goes by so fast, I can’t remember if it is two or three years old! He decides he needs to talk to another geek. Another Geek, comes over, we all shake hands again, and I’m wondering if we should wear badges that say: “Hi. My name is” and you pen in your name. He makes another recommendation and we close the deal. It takes three Geeks to come to a conclusion. I get an option of  my receipt being sent to me or handed to me. I decide to have it sent, after all that is email and more technical, they’ll have more respect if they THINK I know what the hell it is I’m doing. Respectability is SO important.

Leaving the store, I am very happy, I can now do what I been meaning to do for over a year. I get home in a very good mood and start to hook up the cable. I set one end into the laptop and search for the place to stick the cable into the desktop. There is none! THE GEEKS LET ME DOWN!!! What is going on, what is wrong with this world?

When Apple does the choking, then things are going down hill quickly.

BOY, AM I PROUD!

Recently I jumped into the 21st century by virtue of a cell phone! As you all know, cell phones are virtuous, it’s the phone, not the user.

A thing of beauty

It seems TLW (The Little Woman) decided that I use my cell phone a lot, and maybe it is time to get one of those newer up-to-date babies with the text messaging and camera contacts and other ‘apps’ that everyone else has. Being how I eat all my vegetables and do what I’m supposed to like a good husband. (I’m still working on listening)

Can you hear me now?

Having this phone has changed my outlook on life. I guess it is akin to dare I say it: ‘Penis envy’. Sorry ladies. But all this time I have owned a small little phone, while everybody else has a big phone, one where they can display it proudly in public. They whip it out and start stroking the screen, texting, calling and surfing the Internet. Me? I had one of those tiny little phones that doesn’t take pictures any more, because the service stopped storage of them, you can text, but you have to go through the number keyboard which holds up to 4 letters, so you are constantly making mistakes, no GPS, no real Internet on the small screen, no nothing!

Smile, I'll take your picture!

I used to hide my cell phone, not showing it in public, going to board meetings, where everyone would put their phones on the conference table, me, I shut mine off, hid it in my glove compartment, no one knowing that I had such a small, embarrassing phone. It was sad.

So now I am electronically adept, I have a Kindle Fire, an I-pad, and now, pray tell, an almost I-phone! It’s not an Apple, but it is pretty darn good, and it is a popular mid-priced model. Nothing to be ashamed of anymore! Could you call it a ‘phone implant’?

"YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE"

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey
You never noted how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamt I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head, and I cried

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You never noted how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

It’s funny how life can be. Whenever I hear the song ‘Sunshine on My Shoulder’ I think of my daughter. It just seems to me to be her song from me. The other song that affects me and reminds my of a child is ‘You Are My Sunshine’. I used to sing to get my son Joseph to stop crying. Both songs involve sunshine.

When he would be in pain or discomfort, we never knew which, he would cry as a 1-year old would. I would take him and hold him on my lap and sing the song. Whenever I got to the part: You make me happy when skies are grey, he would stop crying and smile! It never failed for his Mom or me.

I remember one Saturday morning, as he sat in my arms in North Shore University Hospital, staring out the window wondering what was in store for him, I sang that song to him as he lay in my arms attached to tubes and quietly dealing with the pain. He slowly looked up and smiled once again, it made my day, my whole day and a woven memory in the cloth I will keep forever.

It’s been 34 year since he was born, the song will still bring that memory home to me, and I will remember his round little face and feel a little pain in my heart. Funny how similar it is to the pain I feel when I see my daughter. I don’t know if the pain ever goes away, ask me when I’m dead. But to tell you the truth, you have to live on, you have to dance and sing and laugh and be happy, because life is so unpredictable.

I know I do silly things sometimes, but I do them because I love life in spite of the bad breaks that come down the pike. But those horrific breaks are balanced by good and wonderful breaks too. My other children, a truly wonderful and loving wife, one that has made a home for me, one I don’t wish to leave and never did.

Maybe the tributes to motherhood need clarity. Maybe they, mothers, should be celebrated on their children’s birthday. Those of us born should not take the bow, the mom that suffered through 9 months and childbirth should be celebrated. It should work so that if you have a birthday, you buy your mom a present.

Maybe when that same birthday occurs, Dads should reach in and buy Mom the present, for making it possible to be a father, and a parent, telling her ‘thank you’ for creating my family.

I know that little Joseph is now 34 years old today. If he had lived I know he would have been suffering just like my daughter, so maybe he was lucky. Sounds crazy I know, but if you think about it, in 100 years from now no one will remember or little care. But if it weren’t for TLW (The Little Woman) I would have never met Joseph, would never have had some truly beautiful memories along with the bad ones. But at least he lived.

So Happy Birthday Joseph, we will always love you, and maybe, just maybe, someday I can sing that song to you and see your smile once again.

PULLING IT TOGETHER

Easter Sunday was an interesting day. TLW (The Little Woman) and me, my older sister Tessie (much older), my niece Laurie and nephew Gerard, their son Sean, my nephew John, and my older sister Tessie’s (much older) grandson Nicholas all showed up at Mom’s house for dinner.

Mom is slowly convalescing from the fall she took on Christmas Day and can hardly walk. Entering the house she sees me and starts yelling.

“I didn’t do anything, I can’t stand on my back, I didn’t have a chance to prepare anything.”

I look at TLW and say: “The hell with them, let’s go” meaning Mom and her boy-toy. My wife looks at me and we start to put the food in the oven, setting the table and opening the wine. As the family arrives we all gather around the small dining room table but I notice something that strikes me right away: It is nice to be together for the holiday in Mom’s house once again!

Thinking back, the last time Mom had a major holiday was Easter, 1991! That was the last holiday Dad was alive and once he passed in June of 1991, we decided to have the holidays at our respective homes. So what does the conversation turn to? Dad. Dad was there somehow at that table, or at least his spirit was, and we all picked up the spirit of conversation and I told little tidbits about him, then someone asked me to read my blogue aloud about my older sister Tessie (much older) and her birthday. We talked about my brother-in-law John who recently passed and Laurie and Gerard's son Stephen who is away in college playing Lacrosse, and how well he is doing.

Sitting at the end of the table, in rapt attention sat this tiny little old lady, once the dominating force in all our lives, listening. A serene and attentive pose painted across her face, taking a small joy in having some of us home once again!

THE SIMPLER IT GETS, THE HARDER IT SEEMS!

Recently on the social network, where I frequent for some reason, there was a picture of a friend of mine with a dog on her lap. The dog is a BIG dog, but thinks it is a lap dog. The picture was cause for me to comment about the books that were set neatly in a book holder. What amazed me about the picture was the fact that she still had books! I though: “Gee, no problems with back lighting with one of those!”

TLW, (The Little Woman) was complaining about her Kindle once and the fact that it has no back lighting, which made her go out and get a newer version. Then once the back lighting problem was solved, the issue of the battery became large. It seems she took her kindle to work and on her lunch hour and her Kindle went dead for lack of power!

Reading a book requires NO backlighting and NO power from electricity. This sounds like an improvement to a Kindle. Just think, take a book to work and it never and I mean NEVER runs out of power!

For years now I have been using my laptop. It gets me my emails, I can communicate on Facebook, and I can get all the news and facts I want instantaneously. This is great, yes it needs power, but once you power up to 100% you can unplug for a few hours if you wish. The TLW got me an I-pad, which should do all these things plus act as a Kindle, camera and special effects camera too. For it to have meaning: you need ‘apps’ like an I-phone. Every time you put in a new app, and go to use whatever you downloaded, it asks for a password. I get frustrated when I need to remember a password, and go from a Kindle or I-pad or laptop, all asking for passwords and the reminders out there to not use the same password. Plus sometimes the damned thing refuses to go on line!

Are we overextending ourselves? Have we entered the world of redundancy with both feet in the air? Where are we headed with the newest innovations in electronics? You know this all started when I purchased a calculator from a friend back in 1976 that still works by the way.  Slowly the world of electronics started with the invention of the battery and had blossomed into this meg-bucks industry of battery and charger generated electronic toys, designed with only one purpose in mind, to confuse me. I don’t think I’m clear on a ‘Blackberry’ or a ‘Blue Tooth’ device. I always thought that if you ate a blackberry you would get a blue tooth or two.

Just as I was getting a handle on browsers and search engines, they rearrange Facebook, causing me to lose confidence in Yahoo, who while I was sleeping rearranged everything I knew.

 

Back to books, once when people just read books, their library was a sense of pride. You displayed your books on a shelf with the titles sticking out to show what you read, and who you were. Some people bought fancy covered books that they never read and pretended they were something they were not. I used to do tons of ads for book clubs with that kind of psychology in mind, and it sold!

WHAT ARE THESE PEOPLE DOING NOW?

Then it dawned on me. I see these people walking around with their noses stuck in their Kindles, not reading but open to their ‘electronic’ bookshelf, just in case you happen to bump into them!

MOM’S FINE BUT I’M LOSING IT!

The other night while sleeping, the phone rang and TLW (The Little Woman) answered it. We keep a phone next to the bed for just such occasions. Being how TLW likes to talk at any time and I’m shy, it is on her side. This is good!

Answering the phone she waited for a reply to her rather eloquent: “Hullowwwww?”

Who ever the late night or early morning caller was decided they had the wrong number and didn’t bother to answer, just hung up.

The next morning I get a call from my older sister Tessie (much older) and she voices a concern about Mom. Mom is doing very well but does have a pain for over a year in her lower back and she just told us about it recently within the last few months! The doctors can’t figure it out and I certainly can’t, my older sister Tessie (much older) fears that it is her only kidney she has since her cancer operation a while back. Mom said she is only comfortable when she is lying down on her couch or in bed. Being a good son, I decide to give her a call.

I call and her phone has a busy signal going so I think one of the sibs is talking to her. I try a half hour later and still a busy signal. Once again about 20 minutes later a busy signal, so I decide to call her cell phone. Now Mom has her cell phone out on an end table in her den, amid her statues of Jesus, Mary, and St. Anthony. Being I am her son she got the St. Anthony statue at a garage sale and he is the patron saint of lost causes. So you see the connection: St. Anthony, lost causes and me. No one is picking up her cell phone. No Henry her boy toy, no aids, no nuthin.

Being a keen observer of situations I decide that something is wrong and jump into my chariot and over the river and through the snow to Grandmother’s house I go! I get there and her boy toy’s car is not in the driveway. This causes me to take pause. I guess a cause for pause kind of situation. So what do I do? I get out of the car and ring the doorbell. (Come on, you should have known that!) No answer! I try again, and guess what? Still no answer! (I’m glad you are able to follow this so well!) Fear strikes and I decide I will go to the local hospital and enquire if she has been admitted. The young lady behind the computer looks it up and says: “Room 209” I think: “AHA!” Then the young lady, a little older now says: “Oops! That was in December, no she’s not here.” I explain my dilemma and she suggest I call the police and have them knock the door down! I think about it and say very intelligently: “Nah, she’d kill me!”

“But she could be on floor!”

“And?”

“She could be dead!”

“She’d still kill me for messing up her living room.”

Not knowing what I will do, I decide to call TLW at work. She suggest I go back to the house and wait for Boy Toy to show up, maybe he went out shopping for her and Mom who doesn’t hear too well maybe asleep. Reluctantly I agree and wait in the driveway for about a half hour. All her neighbors are looking over at me and wondering why I am sitting in my car in the driveway. My phone comes alive, (Probably the only thong on me that is) and it is TLW once again checking in. As we are talking, who shows up but Boy Toy, with bags of shopping and a newspaper. We enter the house and Mom is sound asleep on her couch resting her back.

Once again, TLW’s suggestion was correct. But like she says: “Joe, you are NOT ordinary, you are EXTRA ordinary! I wish she would run those two words together.

A QUIET LITTLE WAR

There are mothers in this world that go about their business without fanfare. They silently do not only what they have to do, waging a quiet little war of their own for their child, but it is what they want to do.

One of the things I always wanted this blogue to do is to recognize those who suffer in silence who wring their hands in sometimes-quiet despair, sometimes in frustration and sometimes in resignation. These people are real heroes to me, people who do the job, and no one takes notice enough.

There are three heroes whom I know of that I can speak. I want you know about them, because they don’t consider themselves heroes in any sense, just plain ordinary mothers.

Let’s start with the gal who most amuses me with her writing and doesn’t do enough of it. She lives in Connecticut with an equally dedicated husband named Malcolm who has this sweet little girl who is part of the Cranial Facial Association. A craniofacial disorder refers to a disorder of the face or head, and in some cases both. Mom, Laura, has raised her child Ava to embrace herself and to know that love comes in many forms. Mom and Dad have taught not only their sweet Ava that life is a blast, but also that love abounds. Ava has her mother’s out look on life and yet has her father’s patience and kindness, a truly good man who so well compliments his beautiful wife. Having the good fortune to know someone like Laura, Malcolm and Ava has given me a wonderful perspective on what goes on in batting down the unfairness in life that presents itself. Ava has a sense of humor that is highly sophisticated for such a young lady, and there is nothing that seems to get in her way, why: because Mom sets a shining bright star for Ava to follow.

Then there is an old classmate of mine who goes back more than 50 years. Michele is a talented photographer and high school classmate who spends her time in many places, East Patchogue, New York, North Carolina and Massachusetts, but her most intense time is with her daughter Nicole who suffers from Anterior Spinal Syndrome. Anterior spinal artery syndrome is an extremely rare cause of acute ischemic cord infarction in children. It is caused by hypo perfusion of the anterior spinal artery.

It seems that she is always away visiting her daughter Nicole who lives in Massachusetts, who suffers this syndrome, a beautiful women in her own right, Nichole has had her ups and downs, and all who know Michele and may not know Nicole, ride the waves of ups and downs with hope and prayer along with Michele and her husband Nick. Nick is the type of fellow that knows that you can’t change what is always, but his spirit speaks volumes as to what kind of special person HE is.

Then there is a woman called: “Hildie”. I know Hildie from my daughter’s agency, and she is a special volunteer, one who has helped run and now is in charge of running a Bingo game the agency operates every Friday night. Hildie is in her mid-eighties, and has a son with a developmental disability. Her son Michael is in his 60’s and is deteriorating fast! She is doing everything she can for her Michael. About 18 years ago Hildie lost her husband, and now has to fight a lonely battle to keep her son alive and healthy and engaged. It seems that Michael loves music, and you would find him at the Bingo games sitting quietly while mom ran the game. Michael would tell you about his DVD’s his music collection. It seemed that Hildie would spend her nights with Michael listening to the music, and on occasions dance with her son to it. She devoted her whole life to Michael.

But now the time has come where she is unable to engage Michael, he is getting on in years and he is physically deteriorating, leaving her with no other options but to place her son in a nursing home. The Agency can’t seem to find a place for him, since we are not equipped to handle his physical condition without falling out of synch with state regulations. Had Hildie tried to place her son with the agency years ago, he would have been placed as there would have been a place for him somehow, based on her devotion to the agency alone, and we as an agency would be dealing with the issues that exist today.

But these women I speak of seem to be the calm in the storm, the rock upon which family is meant to build upon, They are of different generations, two are natural birth mothers, one isn’t, but that isn’t important. What is important is that they are to their children a rock, the port in the storm, and for that matter: for the world to be admired and respected. God bless them and all the moms like them.

It is hard to see a mom worry about her child. A mom with a child with special needs or facing a physical impairment no matter whether she is married; widowed or just raising a child on her own, fights the battle by herself.

Just thought I’d mention them.

OYE VEY!

Well it is official: I hated the winter of 2012/13!

Normally I love the winter months, but this past one was too much, even for me. It seems that since right before Thanksgiving and the holidays that followed, so have the clouds. First and foremost my brother-in-law John passed away, then Mom fell on Christmas Day, dealing with a nursing home for her rehab, then two kidney stones followed by severe back problems and finally a nasty cold. Toss in Hurricane Sandy and the blizzard, and you have a fun time!

Don't read too close, you might catch it!

Now I’m not complaining… yes I am.

Does it have to do with the 13 in 2013? Is it all cycler in nature? Are the gods conspiring against me? These are the days of my life.

My poor wife asks every morning: How’s the back? Life must move on, we are all getting old, and age seems to be the thing this past winter in the fact that my patience is running out. I’m still dealing with Mom’s issues and Medicaid, we will be scrupulously dealing with every aspect of getting her ready for it, honestly, and I am still following up on some of the details. Thank goodness for family, like my brother-in-law Tom, my sisters especially Tessie my older sister (much older).

Poor Mom still has a backache, and is going for tests today as I write.(MRI)

To complicate matters still, I discovered I now have a Jewish accent when I write!

At least I’m losing the Puerto Rican one.

Then all of a sudden, the grand dame of TV justice, Judge Judy is starting to lose her luster, first being sued for some china she tried to scam and then her son, a judge is involved in an issue with an illegal alien! All this over the winter!

Well, let me get back to my cold and getting rid of this Jewish accent, it could just be a computer virus.

I’M GETTING NOTHING FOR EASTER!

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They showed up in two’s and three’s, the doorbell ringing constantly as friends and relatives arrived, paid their respects to Zia Francesca, with a: “Appy East” and spoke their native tongue. They were able to speak three languages, Broken English, Italian and what I call ‘Mano-Italiano,’ making multi-syllabic statements in two to ten fingers, depending on how poetic they were. These statements were often a collection of Broken English and Italian words to accompany the conversation. Facial expression was key to understanding a conversation. Someone made a point without expression meant that they were not happy.

I’m talking about Easter Sunday growing up in Brooklyn, and the festive atmosphere that pervaded the family. During those golden days of living in Brooklyn during the 50’s, attitudes were different, the mores of yesterday conflicting with today’s. In those days you didn’t just roll out of bed and off you went. Today you see people in stores early in the morning in their pj’s! No, for the holiday or any Sunday, you dressed for church and dinner, then as the day wore on, you relaxed. No one ever got on a plane without dressing, or had a business appointment without shined shoes, neatly combed hair and a freshly starched shirt with tie and jacket.

Of course we also had other hang-ups that made up our collective psyches but at least there was some sense of order and respect.

Easter was THE holiday for the Italian-Americans. In spite of what we did on Christmas Eve, this was THE day: it signified many things. You were getting a meal at grandma’s, a big old-fashioned meal, grandpa would be nagged to death to stop playing cards at the Republican Club and come home to eat, I got a chance to see these Napoli cigars, all knarly and stinky, popped in Zio Felice’s kisser, and pinochle games or poker, depending on what was the prevailing mood. Grandma on the other hand got to preside over her huge family, which today would be unbelievable to her, as she would see what her sacrifice to come to this country paid off in!

Easter pies like Ricotta Cheese pie

Hope did spring eternal, from the Eternal City to the new world, spring was in the air and this made Easter Sunday joyous and special. It seemed to be always a bright, sunny and warm day, warm enough to go about in a spring jacket, not an overcoat. But that might just be my memory and not fact.

But the best part of Easter was seeing all my cousins from Patchogue come out to Brooklyn, and plans were made for my older sister Tessie (much older) and me to go out to Patchogue for a few weeks in the summer to free us from the grime of the city streets.

It seems that living in the city or borough of Brooklyn was special. It meant tradition was followed because most of our grandparents “came over from the other side” as they said. Coming over from the other side was crossing the pond in today’s lingo, and be it Italian, Irish, German or Slavic, it meant that the traditions of your grandparents were held sacred and followed as a religion.

I don't know, maybe a vacation will help.

I am grateful to have lived through all that tradition. It was special and it was wonderful, it connected me to my roots and made me also appreciate what a great place I now live in. No matter what the traditions, we all experienced: I think we can be happy with that part of our lives, and come together in a common cause to create new traditions for our children to build upon.

“A appy East” to all!

MARCH

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As I look out the window this Monday morning, it is March 25fth; the early spring morning is grey and cold. What is worse is we are expecting snow and it should be 2 to 4 inches! People this winter past have had enough and so it goes. The way winter is overlapping, will fall do the same?

The TV news is showing a guy ‘LIVE’ in Fredericks, Maryland standing in snow as I write this. One of my fellow board members is happily skiing away the hours, enjoying the snow out west. The Bay Hill Invitational looks like it is a wash out as is all of Orlando Florida! It got me thinking: is there any truth in global warming?

I keep hearing about global WARMING, and keep freezing! In my day when you mention warming, you don’t expect to see snow. Now if palm trees were popping all over the place, I could believe, but the only palm trees I expect to see are potted, unless I get potted.

Now the experts say that the fact that we are having snow so late is due to global warming. Huh? Are they the ones spreading this rumor? Something about the melting icebergs, and the rising seas and maybe the Yankees won’t win the pennant this year? What IS happening to my life?

Mom called March: “Crazy March” that only crazy people are born in Crazy March. Of course she doesn’t really believe it since two of her off spring are born in March. If she were correct, I would be the sanest of her children being born in July. How many of you would believe that? I could rest my case on that alone.

JULY SANITY

I do recall one March where I flew down to Orlando while a snowstorm was about to hit NYC, landed in Durham, it started to snow and then flew to Florida, landing at 11:00 PM in sweltering humidity and heat, and woke up to 32 degrees temperatures!

When you think about it, we sense the disaster due to our time here on Earth, but if you look back into history, the weather has always been unpredictable and will always be unpredictable!

As for me, I will do some chores, a little design work I need to do, take a nap and watch the snow come down all from my recliner.

So let it snow, be it Monday who cares in the end? I’m happy to be alive and retired. My weather forecast goes like this: Early morning coffee changing to Jack Daniels by evening.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE IN THE WHOLE WORLD, GERARD O'HARA