yes, i really did number 22

Last weeks writing prompt with Mama Kat's writer's workshop was to write a list of the 22 THINGS I had done. This week I can take one of those things and elaborate. The choice was easy, because I really did # 22 and a few people commented on it!


Here's what they said.

ARIANA said, "now # 22 is just crazy!!!" in her comment. An my friend MARK said in his "#22!" " Seriously?" " Were you strapped in?" "That's craziness!!!"

Let me explain since not only am I not crazy, I am actually the most normal person I know. I plead tired step-mother with a touch I didn't have a clue! What to know what #22 is, read on?!

You see I married young and my husband had three little kids, they lived with him so I became an instant Mom, I was barely 22 at the time.  Full of myself I jumped in head on into the step-mom thing. Some people might think that's crazy but that's not #22, continue reading.


When their Mom picked them up it was alone time for my husband. After all most married couples get years of privacy before kids but not us, alone time was weekends only.

So here's the story, we had only been married for a few months but on this particular weekend we decided to get away.  I cuddled up next to my husbands warm body while he was driving and fell asleep, it was a short distance to our destination but I went out like a light. I should say at this point I am not normally a napper.

A few months later on weekend afternoon after a romantic encounter hubby came back into the bedroom and sat on the bed eating a cold piece of pizza and drinking a beer. Being a big lover of pizza and beer I was rather surprised when I felt a rather strong urge to jump out of the bed, run to the bathroom and throw up. Dizzy and in a cold sweat I sat on the camode and just knew that I was pregnant.  Then the light went on for the reason my lights went out and I....  fell asleep on the back of a motorcycle.# 22

I received one more comment about #22, it was from JACKIE and she asked, "Oh my goodness, how do you fall asleep on the back of a motorcycle?" 

My answer to her would be; I was at the time an exhausted step-mother who didn't have a clue she was pregnant, and apparently that meant I could sleep anywhere; even on a motorcycle!

from my kitchen - home made pizza

To think last week end we were walking around Washington DC and the weather was beautiful, spring like even! Today one week later it is cool and nasty out, last night it dipped down into the thirties here. In some parts of Northern Virginia today they say...SNOW! wow.

So what to do?

I say make home made dough, fire up the kitchen's oven, break out the pizza stone and make some pizza!

There is NOTHING better then the aroma of fresh dough rising in the kitchen on a cold rainy day, let me tell you! It brings back wonderful memories of my grandparents. Have I every mentioned that my Popa was a baker and that Nana loved to bake pies and bread after he passed?

It is one of my fondest memories of childhood. Mmmm, I can close my eyes and just conjure up that smell in my brain and the feel of the dough  and my grandmothers hands in mine teaching me how to kneed and work the dough.

But now things have changed. I have my trusty Kitchen-aid mixer with dough hook to do most of my work for me! All I have to do is choose the right flour ( King Arthur Flour- my personal preference and I have not been compensated for the shout out to the King ) and make sure I add the right amount of water, yeast and salt and in the right order. The amount of flour when it comes down to it really is a feel thing I might add...

my son and baseball - I remember

I was watching the Brewers-Cardinals playoff baseball game last night and when the umpire got hit by a pitch, when a memory washed over me. This happens sometimes after you loose a child a memory from a time when life was sweet and times were just perfect, sometimes these memories just need to be shared.

Eric started playing baseball when he was about nine with all of his buddies from our community. When he was about eleven or so he became a pitcher. He was quite good at it too and that's just not his mother talking. He pitched on local teams- at all age groups, JV & Varsity, AAU,and American Legion and a bunch of others I can't even remember the names but the point is he loved it.

We spent many many years traveling around our state going from tournament to tournament with the teams he played on. Eating dinner at ten or eleven at night staying in hotels, we have many cherished memories of our time with our son and our baseball family.

At one particular game Eric was pitching and he threw an off speed pitch into the plate, the ball bounced up and clipped the umpire in the chin. Somehow the ball slipped under the mask and being that pitchers can be wild as teenagers and catchers can't catch everything, that poor umpire went down like a ton of bricks.

The noisy ball park went silent as we all watched as the umpire laid flat on his back un-moving the catcher leaning over him.  You could have hear a pin drop and I watched my son on the pitchers mound freeze for a moment. Then as if in slow motion he headed in the direction of home plate concern etched all over his face. All of us holding our breaths with eye's still glued to the umpire splayed on the ground we heard through the deafening silence these words  in a cracking voice "THAT was a BALL."

it's my cross to wear

Do you have a treasured gift? I was laying in the bed the other night, feeling a bit uncomfortable because the chain of my gold cross had twisted a bit around my neck. That's when it struck me there was a story lurking about this particular cross because of special feelings I feel every time I take that little gold symbol of my faith between my fingers or look at it hanging on my neck. It's as if get to carry the gift of the person who gave me it with me always.

I wish I could have taken a clear picture of my cross but my camera wouldn't cooperate. I did find a picture of me at my surprise fiftieth birthday party given by my brother Gerard and sister in law Denise and I'm wearing it.

How did I get it you ask? Here's the story...My mother was an only child whose mother died in childbirth. Back in the day fathers didn't raise daughters they were usually taken in by female relative and that's what happened in my mothers case. My birth grandmothers sister, Winifred took in my mother and raised her as her own along with her other children, an older son and two pre-teen age daughters. I found this great picture of my Nana who raised Mom with me as a baby in her apartment on Lexington Ave in NYC.

Nana and me

Mom had a good life and she came to have a great affection  for her sister Marion's husband Joe Pecci (not the actor!)  When I was born, Mom and my Dad chose him and my Dad's eldest sister Frances to be my Godparents. This is such a huge role for Catholic families, they guide us in our faith formation and are our role models. The role and connection of the godparent - godchild doesn't end in childhood either. I had very good relationships with my godparents and as they aged the caring they showed me as a child was gladly returned to them.

Uncle Joey my godfather and I dancing at Gerard &
Denise's Wedding

For my First Holy Communion Uncle Joey gave me a gold cross. I was seven at the time and I've worn this cross for the better part of forty five years.Oh, I take it off now and again, like when I go on vacation or to the beach or in the pool. I'd be crushed if I lost it, truly I would. I've had it for such a long time. I wish I had a picture of myself in my Communion dress but I can't seem to locate one and it's doubtful you'd see the cross since it's so small anyway. I imagine Uncle Joey smiling down from heaven knowing how I still cherish it with all my heart. He was such an adorable man, very Italian and very loving.

Aunt Fances and I having a visit.
Charlie & Cosmo.

My parents chose well, and although I was closer to my godmother Frances during her life time, my Uncle and I shared a warm and loving affection until the day he died.

By the way my godmother gave me a ring, but that's another story!

Do you have a treasured gift? What memories does your gift evoke?

mama kat's - where I'm from

I've never done a writer's workshop before this is my first. It was also really fun so go on over to Mama Kat's and check out all the other writers they are fantastic 


I am from American made cars, always blue, from Dewar’s Scotch and warm beach sand.

I am from a white stucco, sun filled two story house with brick stairs and the food aromas always ever present.

I am from the sunflower plant, tall, strong, sun worshiping and top heavy.

I am from Santa on Christmas Eve and laughter, from Nana’s gifts in brown bags and Daddy and Popa.

I am from screamers and jokers and lovers no matter what.

From go out and play to don’t go in over your head.

I am from Catholic not public, and statues of Mary in the back yard.

I am from New York City and Ireland and some French, pots of soup on the stove and bread, beer and potato’s.

From the albums my brother Paul played on our Victorla in the living room, the box of forty fives and how Daddy used to sing along when he drank to much.

I am from tea sets displayed on my side board and family pictures around my house and stored in my closet and family silver that graces my table every holiday that carried wonderful memories of my childhood.

blog and release!

This weeks Fridays Confession Booth is going to be a bit serious, so if you're looking for a laugh or want to read a light post about how I taste out of the pot while cooking and don't wash the spoon, well this isn't your lucky day. Come to think of it I do do that really, I confess.

Thanks again Kristen at a little something for me for letting me bare my all in a safe place. This little bit of something has been on my chest for five years actually. I rears it's ugly head every once in a while so I thought I'd take a page out of you're book Kristen and write about it; air it in a public forum and see if I can let it go then.
Blog and release!

Five years ago my daughter Gretchen 30 yrs. who I had the privilege of raising from the age of five when I married her father and my son Eric 22 yrs were killed by an inattentive tractor trailer truck driver.

Gretchen and Eric

The death of a child is a horrible nightmare but somehow those words don't seem to do justice to what that loss does to the world of a mother. But there were blessings too, my family, my husband who was a rock, my loving children, my mother, my brothers and their strong a loving wives, my Aunts and Uncles and my cousins who are so close that sometimes they feel like siblings; especially the girl cousins since I don't have sisters!

Their funeral was a blur the grief and pain of their loss was incredible and yet numbing all at the same time. Most every family member attended and were incredibly supportive even though they all live in different states some as far away as Hawaii and New York. Their presence was such a comfort, I needed them and they too were feeling the loss and shock of the suddenness of their deaths.

The ( I think three cousins) who were unable to come because of work or child care issues called, sent Mass cards and beautiful notes of love and condolence. And that support and love was endless and continues to this day some five years later.

BUT THERE WAS ONE- I have one cousin who never called, never wrote, never acknowledged the death of my children. My mother called her on the morning of the accident and told her about their deaths and  I never heard a word. NOTHING till this very day.

How do you ignore the death of your own flesh and blood? She is my mothers niece, her father my Uncle Joey was my Godfather, our mothers were sisters.

We had just seen each other the year before when our mother's other sister passed away and she hung out with my son, me and my husband at the funeral. And although she didn't know my children really well because of the generational differences, we were close as children.

As we moved into adulthood we kept in touch, seeing each other from time to time, family functions, weddings, funerals (never as frequently as my cousins on my fathers side of the family) however there was never a harsh word passed between us.

As you might imagine, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about my children. Then every once in a while I think of my cousin and I wonder why. The reason remains a mystery and calling her after all this time to ask I'm just not sure I can or even want to.

I confess, I don't believe I could ever forgive her for ignoring the death of my children for forgetting to care; it hurt me to deeply. And I now know it's time for me to let this go.

lights out

We still have no power here. We have heard from the county estimates anywhere between 5-7 days, my daughter works with someone who heard 14 days, crap I say! In the interest of conserving gasoline we usually turn the generator off about 9:30 p.m and then turn in. Kinda on the early side but we do what we have to do to get by.

Then I lay there stressing about things like the mounting pile of laundry and if we're going to have enough gas to last until they repair our lines. My husband and I are not old or anything but my Mom is in her mid 80's and I want her to be as comfortable as possible while she's here. She can't stay in her house because you guessed it; she's without power!

In the mean time we're trying to do what we can to keep comfortable. We keep rotating opening the windows depending on the location of the sun and the ceiling fans are very effective at keeping the house cool. We also have those really good windows with the blinds in between the window panes in every room. I don't know what I did my whole life before moving to the south, we NEVER had an air conditioner.

We're spoiled rotten I ashamed to say and times like this it makes me wonder what I'm really made of. What I really like about these times is the extra contact we have with our neighbors; calling and walking back and forth between our houses checking on each other; that makes me feel good more connected.

Anyway in order to do something I went out today and swept tons and tons of leaves off of our deck and the other porches now that everything is nice and dry. We've been lucky that the weather has been rather agreeable the past two days not much more that 82 or so degrees during the day so it's not at all difficult to manage.

Last night an awful hound dog barked and barked most of  the night and into the early morning hours, then one of my neighbors shot off a gun and it must have ran off. That, my friends is the down side of sleeping with the windows open.

Till next time....

tell it again hans for the 238th time

Hans in my parents kitchen Christmas 1986

Years ago my parents always had Christmas at our house. My grandmother (Nana LeClair) lived with us so all the family would gather on Christmas Eve for Santa and then again for Christmas dinner. The house was filled with all my Aunts and Uncles and their children from my fathers side; upon occasion Mom's side would join the madness; her side was smaller, quieter only two sisters and their families.

As my cousins got older and occasional boyfriend or girlfriend would enter the mix only to become a family member if love bloomed. My cousin Jeanmarie who is my eldest female cousin on Dad's side was the first to bring a boyfriend that I can remember.

His name was Hans and they later married. Hans had emigrated to this country from Germany and was very polite, quiet and unassuming which is important to understand. Our family was LOUD and there were a LOT of us. For dinner Mom and Dad would set up these long banquet length tables in the living room and we'd all sit and eat a family style meal which was home-made by my parents.

As everyone was being seated my cousin Jeanmarie lagged behind in the kitchen to use the powder room. Hans waited for her in a chair outside the door; I presume he was to shy to go in with the family without her. It should be said that our family doesn't do shy therefore they don't understand it.

Mom found Hans sitting alone on the chair, not knowing my cousin was in the bathroom and said to him. ( and I'm paraphrasing here) "You, what the heck are you sitting there for dinner's getting cold?" "Get your rear end in the living room and eat, go on. And when he didn't move she said. "Well what are you waiting for?" Then Jeanmarie came out of the bathroom and they went and ate.

Poor Hans never got over his encounter with my mother.

EVERY SINGLE time we get together for any occasion or a holiday he tells that story. He'll say, "Did I ever tell you the story about the time that Aunt Mary yelled at me when Jeanmarie took me to that first Christmas?  They've been married forever over 40 years so that's how long I've been hearing Hans tell it.

Tomorrow we're heading down to Charlotte for Hans' 70th birthday party shhh it's a surprise! I know at the party he'll tell it again, with a glint in his eye as he say " Aunt Mary yelled at me......" and my Mom will do an eye roll and laugh as will everyone else. Maybe there might be one or two people who haven't heard the story who will get their first telling! For the rest of us it's number 238.

And Hans, he's is no longer that shy guy he was years ago, he's older, wiser, funnier, kinder, LOUDER, and I am happy even proud to be a part of his family and I'm happy and proud he's part of mine.

May you have a long life Hans, keep on telling that story. I'll be glad to hear it for the 238th time, Happy Birthday

what's your nickname? mine is....

I was going over a draft for another post and it struck me; I have quite a few nicknames. My name is Jennifer. When I was growing up my grandmother frowned upon nicknames. As the story goes it may have had something to do with her family having a farm animal named Jenny back in Ireland. Heaven forbid a new friend called the house and made the mistake of asking for Jenny. They would be hung up on with the polite response "you've dialed the wrong number" click! I for one think it had more to do with the fact she felt people should be called by the name they were baptized, period. It's a Catholic thing.

When I was seven my family got their first beach house. During that summer while the house was full with all of my siblings and cousins I had an unfortunate encounter with a jar of Fluffernutter. Do you remember the marshmallow fluff that you could spread on a sandwich with peanut butter? By the end of the summer of 1966 I was not only Jennifer but I had then picked up another name Fluff; but only to my cousins and their parents who we shared the house with that summer.

At some point during my teenage years my parents and my brothers started to shorten my name and began calling me Jay. Jennifer had become very popular by then every other baby born was called Jennifer. I've often wondered if they shortened my name to avoid confusion. If you called the name Jennifer in the supermarket or the beach 37 different kids would come running.

When my husband and I married it was a package deal. Since the three children had contact however limited with their mother we had to decide upon a name for me out of respect to her, mom was never an option. We had to come up with something pretty quick so Jen was born and became my newest nickname.

That folks has been what I've been called by most people ever since.

What about you, do you have a nickname?

Do tell.

remember when transistor radio's were the rage?

I have a confession to make sometimes when I go to shop for someone else I end up getting something for myself. My tale of woe is this....my kids pretty much got everything that was needed before me when they were home, so now that I finally can I tend to indulge myself. Should I feel guilty? NO  probably not but I do anyway. Every time I shop especially when shopping for someone else and I find something for myself and buy it, I feel a little badly.

Most recently I purchased this neat speaker thingie for my I-pod, it was for Father's Day; for myself! I know I know. I'm rotten huh? This thing is great, you plug your I-pod in it, turn it on and boom the little speakers in it provide you with glorious music just like a stereo. Even though its small in size it is perfect for the pool or the beach the yard. It zips up and you can adjust your volume and change your settings without opening it up thru this little plastic window! How great is that?

 iMainGo2 

And now whether I'm in the yard doing gardening, or at the pool watching everyone else swim because of my damn leg, or if my damn leg was not my damn leg and I was at the beach, I'd have my favorite music at my fingertips and now I can share it with my friends and family - no ear buds!  I'm turning up the volume; my new music player rocks!

Remember when?

When I was a kid I used to go to the beach with a transistor radio, I would put it in a plastic bag like that really helped; twist ties were the only option back then no zip locks not very effective against the sand. We'd sit on the beach for hours and hours and listen to Cousin Brusie on WABC-NY as he played all the summer songs of the day.

Now I have this little player that I keep in the kitchen, it looks a bit like a jutebox, it recharges, plays and has a clock; it's an I-Home. Cooking does not happen in my kitchen without music and depending on the mood and occasion there may even be some dancing too!

What are you listening to your music on now? How about then, what is it you remember? 

"swim charlie swim" - when dogs pee to much

Do you have funny stories from your childhood that just make you laugh? I have tons of them actually, most from my days on the beach and my friends on the block. We had some good times during the summers of my childhood. Maybe you missed the story of my friend Mary and I as we watched the neighbor boys tie their Nanny up in the yard and cut her hair off in a friendly game of cowboys and Indians? You can read it here if you missed it girls-and-indians.

I was thinking today of another story this one had to do with a bunch of dogs who liked to pee on the fence A LOT!

My dogs names were Major and Smokey and my Aunt and Uncle's dog was named Duke; they were all Shepherds.My friend Mary lived right next door and there was a chain linked fence separating our yards, her much smaller dog was named Charlie Brown. The dogs, all male would wile away the hours rotating peeing on the fence, one after another like a ballet.

One night Mary and I were sitting at the curb directly in front of the gate to her yard. And there to our right was the four male dogs having their nightly pee fest. Then we heard a noise to the left, the neighbor on the other side had company, oh their company had a dog. OH SHIT it was a big dog a Great Dane.

We watched as if in slow motion as little Charlie Brown made his way over to the fence and started to lift his leg. The giant Great Dane did the same and poor Charlie Brown didn't know what hit him as pee rained down all over his little brown little body.

Then as if out of the blue from the doorway behind us we heard Mary's mother in a soft voice dripping with disgust say calmly but with humor that was hard to miss, " swim Charlie swim, swim Charlie swim." 

We sat on the curb and just giggled and giggled; I'm not sure what was funnier that Charlie was soaked with pee or that Mary's mother thought that the whole thing was so darn funny. We were maybe thirteen at the time and Mom's were not funny EVER then!

How about you; cute memories of childhood or favorite pet stories that you remember and would like to share?

breathing in freedom

This week we asked you to write a prompt inspired by this sentence:


The first time I ________-ed after _________-ing.

It was in a different part of town, the east end on the bay side. I had always lived in the west end on the beach side. But it was perfect for me, met all my needs; the downstairs apartment of a private house. A small bedroom, living space, kitchen and bathroom. 


I was both afraid and excited as my parents toured what I had hoped would be my new apartment and give me their blessing. After all I was working making more than enough income to afford my own place, even at nineteen years old. And I think the fact that I worked for my fathers business didn't hurt, he'd see me every day, their house was a few minutes away.


Once I was all moved in I sat on the small couch in the living room in my own apartment for the first time. Breathing in freedom not realizing fully yet all the responsibility that freedom entailed; that would come later. I unpacked my things and set up my place the way I wanted it. It was small and a bit dark but it was mine. Then I set out to the grocery store to do my first grocery shopping. I picked and chose all the things that I wanted and checked out and headed home. 


As I walked down the driveway to the side entrance of the house a smiling face popped out the door of the neighbors house. She yelled to me, " Hi I'm Pat put those groceries away and come over for a beer so you can meet the family." "It looks like we're gonna be neighbors we may as well get to know one another." 


Boy what a relief to be greeted by such a friendly person. 


We became friends and her family were wonderful people. Her husband Artie, her two young children Jimmy and Lisa were adorable kids. Her tenants were undercover police officers that also became my friends; very cool guys. 


It was an amazing place for me to spread my wings and begin to grow up; surrounded by strangers who became like a second family; part protectors to this half girl half woman the first time she moved into her own apartment.

he brings us joy

It was not all that common for a father to have custody of a child back thirty plus years ago let alone three small children. When I met my husband he was that guy. My husband is a good and decent man, it wasn't long after we met that I knew he was "the one" he had all the qualities of a good husband and father. He'd been married previously, was older and had children so there were obstacles, things that needed to be thought out for a single girl who had never been married.

bill

Then on the day I was to meet his children, he pulled up in his car with the kids; they were three, four and six with big eyes staring at me; wisps of bangs hanging down on all their little foreheads. I remember as clear as day they were all sitting in the back seat of his small car peeking out at me so cute and curious and I can say with all honesty I was a goner!

Gretchen Billy and Heather

I can't help but reflect that back then I was in the unique position of seeing this amazing man, a single father be both mother and father to his children. And  I was getting a real preview of what I was getting if I chose to marry him. As a women I think we all wonder how the men we date will be when they become fathers to our children. He was wonderful to those little ones back then those little ones who became the children of my heart after we married. We added two more children to our family; our sons who were born after our marriage. And he continued to be that wonderful father we married.

Matthew and Eric

Always approachable, involved, loving and kind to all of our children; this I know. And there is no doubt there would be little joy in my life without him.

Bill and Me

Happy Fathers Day Honey

memories of my dad

My fathers been gone now for twenty two years. Every year when his birthday and fathers day come along.... I remember. This year since I have this blog I thought I'd share some of my father with you.

His name was Henry...  

Or some people called him Hank

1. My father loved the beach, my earliest memories were of my father in his beach chair with his radio and his newspaper.  He'd sit sun glasses in place on his nose while reading the news catching some rays. 

2. My father loved to cook and he was a good cook; one thing was he used every single pot and pan in the kitchen usually. God love him he had a great time in the kitchen but he'd make quite a mess. I would be remiss if I didn't mention he was a big believer in the traditional Sunday dinner.  We had two dogs when we were growing up a German Shepard named Major and a Belgian Shepard named Smokey, my Dad would even cook for them! 

3. He was a devoted son, my Grandmother was crazy about him and I know for a fact that he was about her. She was a strong Irish woman who taught all of her children the importance of family and my father learned that lesson at her knee well, and......

Dad and Mom hosted many a holiday's at our house ( Nana's too! ) filled to the brim with happy Aunts, Uncles and cousins and their families eating and enjoying each other's company. Everyone screaming, nobody listening, lots of love!

See there isn't a closed mouth in the bunch!!

4. Dad loved a good Scotch and a good football game. He especially loved the New York Giants. My Uncle Howard my Dad's best buddy and brother- in -law was a Jets fan. They had a friendly rivalry going between the two of them over those teams. I expect if that type of activity were allowed in heaven; they're still at it; over a cocktail of course.

girls and indians

We want to know what, from your childhood, do you still know by heart? Is it a story? A jump-roping song? The number of rungs on the ladder to your tree house? How much money you had to save to buy something you really wanted?

Mary and I giggled as we crouched down and peeked to see the goings on in the yard across the street. We had a bird's eye view from the second floor porch of my parent's house at the beach. As we popped our heads over the edge of the porch we could see over the fence where Francis, Michael and Patrick were playing cowboys and Indians with their nanny, she was the lone cowboy. 


I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was about to witness something naughty; and I was right. The nanny complied as the boys tied her to the flag pole in the middle of the yard. We really wanted to yell out to her," Margaret, don't let them do it," but we didn't want to give away our hiding place on the porch overlooking the yard. 

Then one of the boys ran into the house and returned to the yard with a pair of scissors. To our horror we watched as they cut off her long pony tail; snip! Then they attached her hair to another much smaller pole waving it wildly whooping and hollering as they danced Indian style around her. 


"Do you believe what we just saw?" "I can't believe they just did that," we exclaimed to one another. We hid behind the concrete wall of that porch and covered our faces as the feeling of disbelief washed over us.


What was going to happen if the grown-ups found out we didn't stop them, we were older after all; maybe we should have told. Then self-preservation set in; we shared a knowing look then we bolted down the stairs as fast as our tanned legs could carry us away from the scene of the crime.

Running was easier then telling at least in the minds of two twelve year old girls.


Mary and I have been friends for 45 years, her brother Steve my brother Gerard and Francis (the oldest Indian) are still great friends as well. When we all are together we tell this story; it is part of our repertoire of our childhood antics stories. 


And Margaret? She went back to Ireland and was replaced by Mary a more seasoned Nanny who was better equipped to deal with the Indians boys!

tag you're it

    

This week's prompt is- Let's Play your  memories for games you played when you were young.

My summers were filled with glorious days filled with sun, sand, family- the sweetest memories of of our family home at the beach on Long Island. My parents, Aunt & Uncle, brothers, cousins; oh the fun we had.

But just as sweet were the kids on the block...

Oh the games we played! Long days on the beach playing football, playing 'keep away' with a pink pency pinky's (pink rubber ball) in the water until our lips turned blue and our mothers would make us come out of the water. Then we'd stand there on the hard sand with strait faces shivering with blue lips saying" I'mmm noottt ccooolldddd," as they wrapped us in fresh beach towels and made us sit in the sun to warm our cold bodies.

After gobbling down dinner it was back outside to choose sides for whatever game of tag, freeze, ringalevio, T.V tag, hospital tag. ONE- TWO-THREE...... whoever was "it" would call out as the rest of us hid in our favorite hiding places. We scraped more knees then I could count, jumped more fences the I could count, hid in the smallest places I could imagine, played more games of tag the I could count, cried more tears of laughter then I could count.  

Seeing my friends daily, the innocence of being so carefree. I think of those days more than I can count and I miss them more the anyone could imagine.

music and memories

My I-Pod is filled with all sorts of music, pretty much everything except rap       ( well one rap song ) I love all music. Different music from different times in my life, my youth, my teen years, high school, songs I like currently; these songs are a musical memory for me.  We don't get to go to concerts very often; to see a band or an artist that you like or admire in person can't be beat.

Amos Lee

The other night my husband and I met our son up in Richmond to go to a concert at The National; its a beautiful venue- a theater of old that fits about 1,500 concert goers per show. One of our favorite's was doing a show there; have you heard of Amos Lee? He does a great show, plays a great guitar- actually he plays many different guitars during the show. If you haven't ever listened to his music I would suggest you give it a try. He has a wonderful voice, kind of bluesy very soulful, and he can at times be very spiritual with his lyrics.

The National- Richmond

Of course my first concert was my most memorable-  I thought I was the coolest. My best friend from grammar school's mother dropped us off at the Nassau Colosseum to see Alice Cooper, I think we were all of 13 years old at the time. Oh my gosh!! He was so gross and he threw dolls with their heads ripped off ( remember the song Dead Babies? ) he sang it with a snake wrapped around his neck. Two young girls out to a concert and we just didn't have a clue. Apparently neither did our parents or we would have not been allowed to go in the first place.

But somehow I remember feeling so grown up  being allowed to go without someone older to watch over us. Then there was the smoking and it wasn't on cigarettes being smoked if you get my drift. Our first taste of freedom even if it was completely tasteless- cool and memorable but tasteless.

Things have changed at concerts now a days- no smoking of any kind- but there are bars for beers and cocktails. It seems much more civilized and maybe that's just because I'm seeing it thru my over fifty eyes.

In any case, I've seen a few decent bands. Surely not as many as my brother Gerard- but he's a freak; I know he's seen Amos Lee at least five times.  I did fit in a few concerts before I got married, and have gotten to go to a few with my husband or my son.

In no particular order here are some of the shows I've seen; the best and most memorable clearly was Paul McCartney; that I did with my older brother Paul before he moved to Hawaii.  Here are the ones I remember- Alice Cooper,The Beach Boys, Paul McCartney & Wings, Black Sabbath, The Steve Miller Band, The Moody Blues, Robert Palmer, Linda Ronstadt, Loggins & Messina and Alice in Chains. There are more I think alas as I am writing this post the memory fails.

What was your first concert when you were a kid? Did you have a favorite band  or artist you like to go see? Or do you now? If so do share...

my unusual wedding favor

This post is inspired by a prompt by The Red Dress Club.

What is my first memory that comes to mind when I see the 

picture.....

I got dressed for the wedding and although it was rainy I was hopeful that the old wives tale was true and that meant good luck for the bride and groom.

They were longtime friends of my husbands. They had lived together for many years and finally decided to make it official. I were shocked and delighted when we received the invitation. Apparently the priest felt the same way because he even commented about it during Mass to the delight and surprise of the many guests

The reception was amazing, music dancers in costumes, drinking merrily; it was all that I had imagined. The food was endless, and without question one of the finest and generous selections of food I have ever seen.  However even then I wished for two things, I could enjoy a few drinks and two that I could get out on that dance floor; but alas I was pregnant and my ankles had other ideas.

 And when it was time for us to say our goodbyes the groom said to me," did you steal an ash tray?"  "No of course not" I replied, "I don't smoke you know that."He then did the funniest thing; he opened my purse and stuck an ashtray from one of the tables deep within it. When we got out to the car I took it out of my purse and looked to see what was so special about it. Turning on the overhead light I inspected it; what I saw was a glass ashtray and at its base in blue writing it said ' Stolen from Tony and Dee's wedding May 20th 1984.’