On The Street Where You Live

My brother told me a few Sunday's ago, while we were all together for dinner, that the beloved house that we grew up in was for sale. 

Really, I thought. I had always fantasized about buying it back. 

He then showed us the listing on line. It was with much joy that we (thanks to technology) looked through the photos online of our childhood home. I could hardly believe my eyes..not much had changed since the 37 years ago that we moved out. I noticed the kitchen floor was the same tile floor my mom had installed in the 70's. The bathrooms looked to be the same bathroom we used as kids and the finished basement, where we had a bumper pool table and the neighborhood's first video games hadn't changed at all. Such happy memories growing up in that beloved house. 

For two weeks I couldn't get my house out of my head. Not to far from where I live now, I had often driven by the home and pointed it out to my children and my husband. Each time I watched and wondered why it had fallen into disrepair. I often said I would have given anything to get back inside and see it. Now was my chance and I knew that I probably wouldn't have this opportunity again. I watched the listing waiting for an open house opportunity and yesterday I had my chance!

I took my mom and we toured the house I grew up in. She was delighted to see the deep red, kitchen tile she installed still in pretty good shape. I was so taken by the closet doors, still slatted and with the same door handles that I grew up with. What wasn't so great about that was that the closets inside were still the same wooden dowels that we had hung our clothes many years before. They looked old because they were. Even the kitchen pantry, where I used to scour for goodies and treats, was the same four shelved wooden closet. It had stood the test of time, but because of that it was obviously time for change. 

The bathroom by the back door was the same! I swear my mom installed that Dixie cup dispenser when we were kids...and there it was. We wondered if going back into the house after all those years would be emotional, but it wasn't for either of us. It was great, really! And it felt so good to be able to remember good memories we shared inside the house. Truth is, it felt just like home-even with someone else's belongings everywhere. Even the realtor walked around with us as we toured the house, listening to us comment on everything. She later told us that we had made her day as it was obvious to her how much we loved living in that house.

I took a selfie in almost every room of the house and there I am inside my old room. I stood at the point where I used to sit and play records and dolls and I swear I could have stayed there all day-just happy to be inside. I took pictures for my brothers and sisters too, and I sent this picture to my brother of me outside the closet he used to lock me in-then take off and leave me there-when we played hide and go seek. Again-they were the same wooden shelves I had squeezed into when I was a kid. 

We left no stone unturned and we even toured the garage. 

My eyes spied this on the garage window.

That was my dad's security company that he owned when we lived there!! Mom was tickled to see it was still there. 

Standing there on the driveway where I learned to ride a two wheeler and skinned many a knee, it was obvious that even though we didn't live there any longer, we were still very much a part of that beautiful home and its legacy. If the old saying is true, that life takes you to unexpected places but love brings you home, then I have come full circle and truly come home. 

Will we buy it back? Who knows? We talked about it and we agreed that it seemed like after we left,  the people that lived in it stopped taking care of it, never truly loving it the way we did. We are intrigued to say the least, but we all agree-it needs a lot of love and some serious TLC.

Sunday Morning

So I walked into a local grocery store this morning, to grab a couple of things before work. The moment I entered the aroma awakened my senses with the most amazing smell...

I looked at the cashier at the door and said, "I smell sausage."

She smiled and said, "Yes! The deli guys are making sausage for the lunch crowd."

The smell was heaven. It smelled, I told her, like Sunday morning. When I was a kid, being the last in a line of 5 children, I grew up to the smell of sweet Italian sausage cooking every Sunday morning. On Sunday, my mom would have a big breakfast waiting for her family. There was regularly an array of breakfast foods at my house on Sunday morning. My dad, 100% of Italian descent, would play tennis with his buddies early every Sunday morning and when he arrived home, breakfast was always ready.

Back in the innocence of those days, food was love. We never thought about fat content, calories and gluten. We ate because we were growing kids and my mother made sure we ate well. Sunday mornings were my favorite because it was the best of everything. We always had fresh fruit; cantaloupe, strawberries, blueberries and orange juice as well as toast, assorted danish and pastries, eggs, bacon, pancakes and of course, sweet Italian sausage. Sometimes she even made a breakfast quiche and if you wanted an omelette, my mom would be ready with the frying pan to accommodate.

I was usually the first to rise, my brothers and sisters all teens at the time, would wake later because the yummy smell could wake anyone from a deep slumber no matter how lazy they were. My dad, at the head of the table, ate slowly, with the Boston Globe in front of him and I would happily read the comic page and enjoy the breakfast with my family. Those were some of the happiest memories I have of growing up. It was our very own Brady Bunch moment, and it was part of our routine.

My children love sweet Italian sausage too. Our busy lives today, unfortunately never lent to the innocence of Sunday morning breakfast. When my kids were little there were early Sunday hockey games, lacrosse games or rehearsals to attend, so I tried my best to make Sunday mornings as special as I could. And yes, I cooked the sausage.

It's amazing how that smell this morning brought me such happiness and joyous memories all in a flash.

Frick and Frack are home from college now and you can bet that this Sunday will be special. In fact, I'm making the grocery list now. Be dammed fat, sugar, gluten and calories! I want to make a memory and I think that's far more important, if only for a Sunday morning.

Just Cause

I am a person who hates an injustice.

Recently I have discovered that it has been a theme in my life. I always fight for justice. Justice in myself and justice for others, I tend to stand up for the injustice of it all. So it was recently that I remembered that I was not always just in my life.

The memory came to me upon reflection. I was in 6th grade and I remembered bullying a young red headed girl in my school. I'm not proud nor am I exactly sure why it happened, but I definitely singled her out for whatever reason. She probably pushed some of my buttons, so I decided to make her a target of my anger.

I called her ugly. Daily.
I preyed on her because I considered her to be weak.
I intimidated her with physical threats like my brother had intimidated me, and I was good at it because he was a pro at terrorizing me.

As I reflected on this memory, I remembered her face. Scared and red from crying, she tried her best to let me know she wasn't going to take it lying down. But I knew she was and I wanted it that way. And I used it against her. It didn't go on for very long, as our parents were called and discussions took place between me and my parents and it was swiftly put to an end. And again, I'm not sure why I had chosen this innocent girl to unleash my special kind of terror.

Maybe I knew I was stronger.
Maybe I decided that she would be my target because I was sick of being his.
Yet I can't get the image of her frightened face out of my mind today.

So I want to say to you, Michelle, I am deeply sorry for any pain I caused you back in 6th grade, on the play grounds of the Sheehan school. I'm sure I was sorry then, but I am certain I am very sorry now. My hope is that you have forgiven me for my adolescent angst against you and that it may bring you some perspective to share with your own children.Maybe even a nugget of wisdom.

Because there must be some justice in that...

Throwback Thursday: Tweedle Dum Dum's A REPOST

It's a Throwback Thursday REPOST form 2011!

Today's post is especially poignant as tomorrow we all travel to North Carolina to bring Frack to begin his freshman year in college. I hope he remembers this moment, as my son the college student, is indeed a smart man. 
This Post was lovingly debuted on Tuesday, Nov 8, 2011

So, we get home from NYC Sunday night and Frack and his grandfather arrive home from the Pats/Giants debacle, along with my bestest and oldest friend in the world, Danny, at just about the same time. Frack jumps right to his homework. He's got an algebra test the next day and since I received a not-so-glowing email from his math teacher two days earlier, Frack knows his ass is grass and I'm the lawn mower if he doesn't up his game.

My Guy, Danny and I go sit in the family room to chat while Frack is studying in the kitchen. We were having a grand old time bitching about the sucky Patriots game and such, discussing this and that and about two hours breezes by. My Guy announces that he is going off to bed, says his good nights and leaves us girls to it. About 15 minutes later, I hear Frack's voice in the kitchen meekly say, "mom.." I provide the usual response, a slightly annoyed ,"ya" cuz I'm thinking he wants me to get him a drink or something. God forbid he rises the 5 yards over to the fridge to get it himself.

"can you come ere?" he says.

After a deep breath in, cuz I'm tired, I get up and go to the kitchen with Danny right behind me. What I find there literally broke a mother's heart. My son is sitting in front of his notebook with papers scattered about with a look of pain on his face that cut right through me. He looked at me and said, "Mom, I'm so screwed. I can't figure any of this out."

Now I know he's screwed because math is not a resume piece of mine and I pull my stomach off the floor, which has just dropped down there with this realization. I quickly look at Danny, hoping for some math mojo, and she announces, "I used to be really good at Algebra. It used to be my best subject," then she adds, "but I couldn't do it now. No way." Frick, math student extraordinaire, and My Guy are asleep and I was, of course, ABSENT that day, so Frack is as he said; screwed.

But the look on my kid's face sprung me right to action. Tweedle Dum 1, me, takes the iPad in my hand and asks, "Can't we Google this?" Tweedle Dum 2, Danny, says, "yeah, just type 'solve' and then plug in the equation." This leads us to a million different places all of which we find a whole lot of nothing. Frack is now arguing with Tweedle Dum 1, me, whoes trying to help him, that he's never going to figure this out and let's just forget it. Tweedle Dum 2, Danny, is now reading the results, clicking and we stumble upon this site called mathops.com. It's got the order of operations for quadratic equations right there and Frack begrudgingly looks at it. And looks at it. And looks at it some more.

Then the most amazing thing happened. It was TRULY like a light bulb went off in his head and the moment was quite memorable. "Wait a second," he said. "I think I get it." Frack then clears the table and starts working on the blank practice test. The teacher had given them the correct answers to the practice test but not the order of operations to get there, and Frack starts rattling off the correct answers in succession. The Tweedle Dum Dum's are high fiving each other like crazy after every correct answer and the energy in Frack changed instantaneously to that of serious student. Danny left for home and I stayed up with Frack for a bit longer. He got stumped a few more times but he then found a site on youtube called your. teacher.com with 3-5 minute video tutorials on every math problem you could imagine.

I was so proud of him and he used these wonderful resources to breakthrough his mental block. These videos are how HE learns and it was like a magic math elixir. Frack got an email from his math teacher last night announcing his B+ on his math test and a congrats on stepping up his effort like she knew he could. I told him I couldn't be prouder. We all learned something valuable, the Tweedle Dum Dum's included.

I told Frack that being smart isn't always about knowing all the answers.

A smart man know where to look to find the answers.

Congrats To My Boy

You did it! I can hardly believe it.

We have waited for today for a long time. We have dreamed about it, discussed it and fantasized about how it would be. It's finally here and after tonite, it will be a lifetime memory.

You should be proud of your accomplishments.
You should enjoy this time. Be smart and safe.
Take a moment tonite to stop and take it all in...then make a memory of that moment. You only get this opportunity once.

Tonite you walk on that podium a boy but you leave a man. A man who has accomplished great things and will go on to accomplish much more.

I am proud of you, my son. So proud of who you are becoming and I want you to know that I love you more than life itself. Congrats to you and to your classmates. You did it!

The Silence Is Deafening

It was one hell of a week, and I feel like I have been on vacation forever. Not that that's a bad thing, but it's slowly back to the drawing board today.

How was your week bloggers?

A few observations:

• Ray Allen signing with the Miami Heat for 3 million LESS than what the Celtics offered was like a knife going straight through my heart. I feel terrible and every time he hits that crucial outside shot wearing a Heat uniform I will feel the pain of that deal.

• Being back is great but being away is better. Food tastes better when you are away. Your clothes somehow look better and the time spent with family doesn't get any better when you are all away from your own surroundings. Believe it or not there was no drama! There were even a few miracles. How about that?

• A true sign of summer here in Boston; Adam Sandler and his crew have been out and about filming the movie, "Grown Ups 2", The always gracious Sandler poses with local kids for pictures and his crew and cast bring Hollywood  $$$ to the city. Last year they filmed this years, "That's My Boy" in our own sleepy little Cape Cod town. I have yet to see it. Anyone out there see it yet? 

• Frack comes home tomorrow night from Africa!! I can't wait to see his little face.Nuf said.

• The weather? I can't say enough. It has been glorious and summer in New England is truly a beautiful thing. Years ago, I met an old woman on the beach. She was sitting next to me and we struck up a conversation. She was fascinating. We talked about a lot of topics, kids, family, life, literature and world events. I really enjoyed talking to her. I told her I was divorced and I summarized my awful divorce for her, but told her that I was lucky to have found someone new to love.(this was before I got married) When we had packed up to leave, she left a note on the windshield of my car thanking me for the lovely conversation and she left me with something I never forgot. She wrote. "A life without love is like a year without summer." I often think of her when I am sitting at the beach. 

• Why is it that a hot dog tastes better at a hot summertime BBQ than any other place in the world? Well, it maybe better in Fenway Park, but that's in the summer too! A hot dog with mustard is quite possibly the summer's most perfect food. That, and some juicy watermelon. Then there's a S'more on a beach fire under the starry sky. Ahh, these glorious days of summer are truly a joy.

• Today, being the first day back to normal after a week, will be great. I still have that vacation glow and life's little problems won't seem so bad. I can't say the same for tomorrow, but for now I still have today. 

The Long And Winding Weekend

Hey Bloggers! It's Friday and that means its the start to the long Memorial Day weekend!

This being the unofficial start to summer and all, I'm sure burgers and dogs will be on the menu at some point for everybody in the next few days. It's also the official start of the wearing of the white!!! White shoes and bags will make their  summer debut this weekend and flip flops become the hottest accessory. The forecast is looking good and with the flowers just beginning to bloom, we are ready to welcome in the warm weather.

Have a great one, bloggers and I will see you back here on Tuesday, May 29. And while you are at one of those summer kickoff BBQ's take a moment to remember all of those who fought to give us that freedom.

Happy Memorial Day.

Go Shorty, It's Your Birthday!

Yup, today is my birthday and I am feeling like I am just about the luckiest girl in the world!

I am fortunate for so many reasons, but mostly because today serves as a reminder that I am also loved. I am loved, not only by my wonderful family, but by someone who hardly knows me, which serves as a reminder that there really are good people in the world who care about the happiness of other people. But let me back up and tell you the story so you can feel the love too.

Remember I told you about my FABULOUS honeymoon at the Las Ventanas resort in Cabo San Lucas Mexico? And remember that I told you about the beautiful Mexican dishes we bought while on our honeymoon? Those same dishes that arrived here in the United States in a million pieces? Which also left my heart broken into a million pieces? Well, this birthday story has a happy ending because of some VERY special people.

While we were in Mexico at the stunning Las Ventanas Resort, we were fortunate enough to have our own butler. Her name is Isabel, and she was there to make our stay as comfortable as possible. Every morning her smiling and beautiful face would appear with our morning coffee which she would serve to us on our back terrace, overlooking the magnificent, crashing ocean. Isabel was always a just phone call away, eager to cater to our every whim. She would appear at different times during our trip; to escort us to our various booked activities, to answer any questions we had or to make sure we were enjoying our stay. We got a chance to talk to her and we found out that she is the mother of two wonderful children. She told us that she has been able to enjoy the perks of working for a hotel/resort group by traveling with her family to New York and staying at one of her employer's fabulous properties. Isabel certainly helped to make our experience at Las Ventanas a memorable one.

When we got home, and our dishes arrived shattered into a million pieces, My Guy got on the phone and contacted Isabel immediately. He asked her if she remembered him and if there was anything that we could do, to which HE TOLD ME, that she had answered there was nothing they could do because we bought the dishes at a warehouse in Mexico. There was no history of what we purchased. It's not like there was a "gift registry" or even a cash register to track purchases. No one spoke English and it was cash only. Deep in Mexico, remember? So I gave up all hope and made My Guy promise he would take me back there soon, if only for a long weekend to replace the dishes.

Well color me surprised, because this morning, wrapped up in beautiful packages with bows, are the gorgeous, stunning, dishes from Mexico you see on my kitchen counter in the picture above! Nothing could have made me happier, and it's possibly the best story behind a gift EVER. Isabel searched, on her days off, for dishes for a woman she hardly knew. She wanted to make sure the set was matching and she even fronted her own money on the hope that this American guy she was helping was an honest man. I cannot express my gratitude to Isabel for her diligence and kindness, except to say that, indeed, I cried when I realized that the birthday package I opened this morning contained my dishes. People show love in different ways, and My Guy and Isabel today showed me that anything is possible where there is love.

So for you Isabel, to express my love and gratitude for your gesture, I will post this HORRID picture of me, taken this morning at 6:30 am EST when I opened my gift. I think it truly captures the essence of the moment, beautifully.

Oh, and Honey? (My Guy) Does this mean we can't go back to Las Ventanas again soon???

Are You There Dad? It's Me,Candy.

20 years have passed since the last time I heard your voice, yet it seems like an eternity. I was a young girl when you left me, today I am a young woman.

I often see your face in my dreams and I reach out to touch your hands. Sometimes you are sick, sometimes you are not, but you are always smiling. Once, you were playing cards at a table with some others. Always the center of attention. The comic. Even the spirits are attracted to your Dean Martin swagger. You come to me as I knew you, with your Sculley cap and Members Only jacket, and I know that wherever you are, you are always with me.

What do you think of the person I have become? I often wonder.
What advice would you give me today? I often ask myself.

I got married once, and my brother stood in for you. Your son. You would have been proud. I am a mother now, and I hear your voice in my head some days telling me to be patient. You never met my children, your grandchildren, yet they know everything about you. I made sure of that. I am the keeper of your spirit and I will sprinkle bits of it over them like a magic pixie dust when they need it. It is your legacy. That spirit is a special something that is our birthright.

God knows you had far more than any human should.

We have taken good care of mom, or rather she has taken good care of us.
But you knew she would. It's why we all chose her. Her strength is inspiring.

And Papa, he has taken good care of us too. He's been an amazing role model for your family and he has taught me about integrity, respect and commitment. I sometimes think you must love him too, as you watch over us. He has fathered us right in your absence. He will give me away to another man this summer, and I think you wouldn't have it any other way.

I know you will be there, with me, on that day.
I know that you are with me wherever I go.
I know that you watch over me as I watched over you.
I know that you watch over my children.

Thank you for being there when I call out to talk to you. Somehow, I always get your message.

Locked Out Of So Many Memories

Yesterday my daughter Frick and I executed to perfection a commonly played scene at the kitchen table in the morning before school.

ME: "Ah Frick, where's your coat?"

HER: "I have this on. I'll be fine." ("this" being a thin zipped hoodie)

ME: "Ya, no. It's about 21 degrees outside and you won't be fine. So go get your winter coat."

HER: "Really Mom, cmon. You know I can't carry it around all day."

ME: "I don't care if you WEAR it all day, just go and put it on."

Much Frick STOMPING ensues.


Sounds strange?? Did I loose you at, "I can't carry it around all day."? Don't worry bloggers, because that's certainly where I got lost too and I wouldn't have really understood it had I not seen it with my own eyes. I speak of the foreign, high school tradition, practiced by the children of this fine community we live in.

A little background:
One day last year,(Frick's first year) I went into the high school during school hours to drop something off for my daughter. Upon entering the semi-modern, updated high school, at the hallway of the entrance, which opens to the cafeteria on the right, office on the left, I noticed a SLEW of athletic bags strewn across the floor flanking the wall by the cafeteria. It was a virtual sea of athletic bags, literally hundreds, of multiple color, shape and size. My first thought? Fire hazard; but since the massive hallway entrance seemed wide enough to handle the mish mosh, I figured I go directly to the source on this one.

I asked Frick, "what's with the?'' She explained to me that NO ONE in the high school uses their assigned lockers. EVER.
Huh?
"Yup, mom, it's just not the way things are done at the high school," she said. I was flabbergasted. Not use your high school locker? How could this be? It is a travesty, to say the least.

Not only do the children of our community carry around ALL of their books in their backpacks..... further risking the possibility of a community of "Quasi-moto's", but they will not wear the proper outerwear, even in inclement weather, so as to not have to "carry around" said outerwear. But that's not the worst of it. The worst of it is that these future adults of our world are depriving themselves of a simple rite of passage, the locker memories.

I know, many a romance was sealed or doomed by the doors of my hallowed locker. Needed to re-apply my lip gloss or do a quick hair check? No problem, my locker had a mirror and 5 different glosses to choose from. (some things never change). My best friend and I shared my locker, because mine was in a "cooler part of the building" and my best collage art work was proudly displayed on the inside of the door with every teen heart throb represented. We pretended to be busily getting things out of our lockers to avoid trouble, and skipped classes by meeting at our locker, stored contraband in there and generally held just as many secrets in there as in our own minds.

I just don't get it? How can a student not use their locker?

Evidently, the Fire Department agrees with me. They just put a ban on athletic bags in the front entrance of the school. Maybe now they will use their lockers for their intended purposes. Making memories......

Maybe not. Frack says they just made the hallway to the gym their new spot for athletic bag dumping.