My Eyes Are Opened

If we're friends in "real life" or on Facebook you already know the good news...according to the MRI results, my daughter does NOT have bone cancer. The radiologist compared last year's MRI with last week's, and except for some bone issues near the ankle, there is nothing "unusual," and any tumors present in that leg have not become malignant.

Needless to say, we are beyond the moon that she will not have to undergo treatment for bone cancer. She will need some surgery near the ankle which will hopefully alleviate the pain radiating up the leg. After thinking you have cancer for three weeks, any surgery spoken of, which in the past would have caused depression, is now something to look forward to, especially if they are able to straighten her leg at the same time. We have an appointment in a couple of weeks with another orthopedic surgeon to talk further on what this would entail, and if she/we are comfortable with him.

The doctor we saw yesterday felt the person who read the first X-rays from Doctor's Express was not familiar with her condition, or her history, and should never have told her she had cancer, over the phone, by the way. I doubt she will ever use that doc-in-the-box again.

The last couple of weeks have been horrible. The more she Googled, the more she was convinced she was dying. I stopped Googling after determining which hospitals across the country would be the best place for bone cancer treatments. I still had hope that she was a victim of the "new doctors in July" scenario. Apparently on July 1st many doctors, radiologists, medical personnel, etc. who have just graduated or finished up their internships begin their careers, and July is the month where most mistakes are made in the medical field. Once her blood work came back with all results in the "normal" range, I was even more convinced that she probably just had a dope read the X-ray and she did not have cancer. Surely, the white blood cell levels would be higher if they were fighting something. To be sure, I called on Padre Pio for divine intervention. Hey, it works for me.

After her appointment yesterday, the first person she called was her dad, and these are tears of relief.

We went to a local restaurant so she could eat something before going into work. During all this trauma, she has missed only one day of work. She couldn't have a celebratory drink because two weeks ago she had her wallet STOLEN AGAIN! This time she didn't notice quick enough and they cleaned out her bank account. Unbelievable. It was the last thing she needed, but in a way it was a distraction as it took her mind off her health problems. She is working with a detective to catch them because criminals are stupid, and don't realize you're pretty much on camera wherever you go, so it's only a matter of time before all the i's are dotted and t's are crossed hopefully resulting in arrests.

When you have a scare like this it sort of makes you look differently at things, puts what's important in perspective, and makes one question certain things. People have said they are praying for her. What makes one person's prayers answered while another one's not? I've known other people who have had many, many, more people, church people, praying for them, and they themselves are "good Christians" yet it didn't matter. I've heard people say "good things happen to good people." I say bullshit. Bad things happen to "good people" too. If she ended up having bone cancer, would that mean she wasn't a "good person?" And how could she have been a "bad person" when she was first diagnosed at 1 1/2 years old with this horrible chronic condition? I've seen good things happen to "bad people" as well. And if someone uses that expression on themselves, I could probably point out at least a couple of things about them that does not make them 100% "good." I know they might mean well when they say it to me, but, no, I don't like that statement at all.

What I do like are these two statements, "Be thankful for the bad things in life, for they open your eyes to the good things you weren't paying attention to before," and "The things you take for granted someone else is praying for."

My eyes are opened... 

I'd like to share something my daughter posted on her Facebook wall last week, under this photo:

Everything about this hits home for me, right down to the old lady in the wheel chair. It's been a rough month for me with my leg, physically and mentally. Most people who are "healthy", or never had to deal with a severe or chronic medical condition, can not truly grasp how hard it is to retain the daily "status quo" routines while at the same time battling something that is completely out of their control. Going against what your body dictates you can or can not do is a whole other level of going against what your parents/significant other/friends/etc say you can or can not do. Instead of getting grounded for going to a party, you're bed ridden for what could wind up to be days because you wanted to go to work. Instead of missing out on activities because your parents took your phone, you miss out on activities because your body won't let you hike, or run, or do anything that involves more physical activity than just walking in a mall. Most people don't see the struggle, they don't see the pain, they don't see the amount of effort it takes to do the basic every day tasks, like working or walking down the street to get milk, or even going down or up a flight of stairs. All they see is how slow you all of a sudden became at doing their job, or their limp that sticks out like a sore thumb, or how they have to go up one stair at a time, pause, pep talk themselves, and go up the next stair. Or they see a wheel chair, crutches, leg braces. And God forbid you're young and need to use the motorized scooter to get your groceries. Then all they see is a lazy "child" who thinks its funny to ride around. Last week, I was walking, or rather limping, down the street when someone I knew, very close, started shouting at me about my limp, making fun of it, telling me to walk faster. As soon as I turned around and they realized it was ME, the person they've known for years, the person they share secrets with and fears and desires, the person they knew that had a bone deformity and most recently serious concerns with my leg, they stopped and apologized. "I didn't realize it was you". That is NOT an okay excuse. I accepted it as ignorance, but it is actually the worst excuse to ever say. If you know someone in your life who is affected by a medical condition, deformity, disease, disability, or anything of the sort, please please think about that person the next time you see someone who doesn't fit the mold of what you'd consider "normal". Making fun of some one who doesn't resemble yourself is a fleeting subconscious thought, however vocalizing it to that person comes from a place of complete ignorance. I'm not saying this for my benefit, 21 years of dealing and coping and you learn not to focus on the disability and more on all the things you accomplish despite it. When someone focuses on my limp, I focus on how I'm limping to go do what I love, how no limp will ever stop me from directing, doing what I'm passionate about in life, or seeing the people I love. I'm saying this to bring awareness, and also to offer support for those who suffer and persevere through similar situations. Younger generations think the #dontjudgechallenge is drawing all over your face with eyeliner in one frame and the next being dressed to the tens. No. THIS is the REAL #dontjudgechallenge, and if more people would make THIS challenge viral, the world would be one step closer to peace (pun intended).

Thank you all for your support, prayers, well wishes, concerns, and just being there. It means the world to both of us...

P. DeRosa Grocery

I recently discovered that the original storefront of the first DeRosa to come to America was still standing on 8th Street between 4th & 5th Avenues in Brooklyn. Here is the pic from Google Maps.


View Larger Map

It came to my attention from my cousin who told me about an article written by Willard Spiegelman for the Wall St. Journal entitled Cultural Connections in a Tour of Brooklyn, which he found out about at a recent DeRosa family picnic. From the article: "My guide was the estimable CUNY sociologist William Helmreich, whose forthcoming book "The New York Nobody Knows: Walking 6,000 Miles in the City" is a lively account of his four years of treks (1,500 miles annually) through all five boroughs."

Also from the article: "Then we drove down Fourth Avenue into Gowanus, where we stopped on Eight Street for a visit to one of Mr. Helmreich's other urban finds. A plate-glass window at No 180 1/2 announced at a building void of other signs of commerce -- 'P. deRosa Grocery,' with Schaefer and Rheingold beer signs beneath. The main entrance to the house is next door, at 180. What was this?

If you see something, ask something: That's the key to becoming an urban sociologist. On an earlier trek, Mr. Helmreich met Mr. Helmreich met Mr. de Rosa's grandson, who gave him the skinny. Paolo de Rosa came to Brooklyn at the turn of the last century and opened his little market, which closed in 1972. His son and now his grandson have kept the original plate glass intact as a gesture of respect to the Sicilian "nonno."

Paul de Rosa and his wife, Doris, came outside. I asked about an appealing 19th-century frame house across the street. "That was the original farmhouse here," Mr. de Rosa said. It's now the residence of Steve Hindy, the owner of Brooklyn Brewery. Who knew?"

I certainly didn't know about the original store's intact window, nor its exact location, but I do know our name is not spelled deRosa, it's DeRosa. I also don't know who Paolo is. I always thought it was my great-grandfather who owned the grocery.

My Great Grandparents, my Grandfather and his sister early 1900's

Apparently not, as if it had been him, then my father would have had a brother, Paul, who was quoted in the article. Did my great-grandfather own a different grocery? I don't know. Was Paolo my great-grandfather's brother? I'm leaning towards that scenario. Maybe my great grandfather worked in the family store. I don't know. That was one thing about my dad, he barely ever spoke about his family.  I was extremely close to his father, but grandpa died before I became interested in  family history. I have so many questions now, and no one to answer them. Don't squander the time you have with the elders like I did.

Two things are certain -- The next time I'm up in Brooklyn I plan on visiting the storefront to take some pictures in front of the original plate glass window. and knocking on the door next to it. And...I plan on getting a copy of The New York Nobody Knows. Mother's Day is coming up.

Books & Tapes & Notes, Oh My!

If someone other than me told you this next tale you'd probably think they're lying. If you know me, and how my "people" work, you know I'm not.

My Brooklyn basement looks like a library -- a poorly kept, dim-lit, neglected library, containing thousands of books, vhs tapes, magazines and newspapers, most cinema-related. Although I had hoped my brother would have tried to sell them, or at least have been the caretaker, that will never be. I have taken over.





I haven't decided if the best way to sell these is through Amazon, eBay, or make up a website, but I do know I need to get them out of there. Too many have been lost already. Before I was to begin this Herculean task, I invited my cousin to peruse the collection and take whatever he wanted. I know he would be a good steward and my dad always liked him and would love to see his precious books wind up in someone's hands who appreciates them. So, off he went...

 

He picked his books and brought them upstairs. The first book he picked up and glanced through was one about the director, John Ford.  He then began reading aloud something that didn't make sense to me, a list of wallet locations. I thought he was joking, but then he held up a piece of paper that he had found in the book. It was written by my father. It detailed all the locations in the house of where he had hidden money-filled wallets.

If you read Fractured Facade, you may remember a scene where the police state they had found 12 empty wallets. I always doubted those wallets were empty, and I had informed the detective of that. Based on the rummaged-through condition of the house I saw when I arrived, I didn't know if it was the police, or someone else, who emptied those wallets. Reading this note from my dad is validation that I was correct. This isn't the first time I've "heard" from my father.

What I don't understand is why my father would put that note in a John Ford book. Perhaps that was a book by his bedside and got moved downstairs when we began working on the house. That's the only thing that makes sense because I have no link to John Ford. He's not one of my favorite directors and I would never read this book. But what is even stranger is that out of the thousands of books my cousin was drawn to this very one. What are the odds of that happening? Pretty amazing...but, wait, it gets better.

The second book my cousin opened was "The Making of the Wizard of Oz." When he opened that one up typewritten recipes on index cards fell out. Stained and worn, I remember baking with my mother while these cards lay on the kitchen table. They were my favorite cookie recipes. My cousin thought since he was a chef my mother was giving them to him. I told him no, my mom was talking to me through him. She usually doesn't contact me, so this was a big deal. And my mother did not have a love for movies like my father did, so why in the world were they even in that particular book? Again, what are the freaking odds of this happening?

 

My cousin was thinking about exchanging one of the books he had chosen for another, and I told him to keep it and just take whatever else he wanted. Later that evening he called to tell me he was glad he listened to me and kept that book. In it there was an essay from Patti Smith, whom my cousin and I first bonded over many, many years ago. That book was his meant to be with him, as those notes inside the other two were meant to be with me.

You can't make this stuff up...

 

Congrats Class of 2013!

I didn't realize how wonderful it was beforehand, but after attending VWCC's graduation ceremony on Friday, my kids did us a huge "favor" by graduating together. It was just a year earlier when we found ourselves in the Salem Civic Center attending my daughter's high school graduation. At that time I thought the ceremony was long, but it was over in a blink of the eye compared to Friday's.

A lot, and I mean a lot, of students graduated. That translates to a lot, and I mean a lot of cars in the parking lot, and a lot and I mean a lot of folks in the stands. We had to wait on a line where before even entering the door I was searched. Why are only the women searched, huh, huh? Anyway, we found our way to some seats where for the next three hours our butts and legs would go numb, my husband would experience a charlie horse, and our ears blasted by screams, catcalls, and air horns. It makes me wonder...are the folks who scream like mad people when a student's name is announced doing that because they never in a million years imagined they would graduate? It's annoying, rude, and not fair to the next student whose name gets lost in the cheering.

Anyway, as we were waiting for the event to begin, there were two huge screens above the stage where students spoke to their parents, God, or whoever, thanking them, etc. I joked to my husband, "Yeah, I'm sure we'll see our kids up there." Just as I said that, my son popped up! I was so stunned I dropped my camera as I fumbled to turn it on. I missed the shot. It was such a nice surprise, and the highlight of my evening. A couple of headshots later, there was my daughter! Again, I missed the shot. Lucky for us just a smidgeon of the huge student body spoke on camera, so they looped it. My husband brought it to my attention as he recognized one of the students before our kids. This time I was ready:

In case any of our relatives want to hear the kids speak, I've embedded the video from that night. Frankie starts at about 9:33 in and Marie at 10:47.



When the first strains of Pomp and Circumstance rang out I couldn't help tearing up. I caught a couple of shots of them as they passed by.

Earlier in the day, after their rehearsal, the kids had let me know they would be sitting in the first row. One of the benefits of your last name starting with an A!

They also let me know I shouldn't get too excited as they weren't going to be the first called as it was starting stage right. It didn't really matter as we couldn't "sneak out" anyway after they received their diploma. Before that happened there were numerous speeches with everyone patting themselves on the back. Academia can be so full of themselves, Ha!

The longest speech was given by a young lady who previously had been heralded in the local press, for what I can't remember, but I think it had something to do with getting a scholarship. She was chosen to speak for the students and speak she did...on and on and on and on and on. The title of her speech was "Words" and she used way too many! The speech was over 16:00 long, which was longer than any other speaker, including the dean. I kept thinking in my head of the Dave Chapelle skit, "Wrap it up Box!" She wasn't really engaging and lost the audience after 5:00. At one point later on in her soliloquy, some of the audience could take it no more, so when she paused to take a breath they began clapping wildly to get her off the stage. I felt bad, but that didn't deter her and she continued. Meanwhile, the audience started talking amongst themselves. I thought that was rude, but I think taking that much time to talk about one's self is also rude. There should be a time limit and I hope the speaker will learn from her experience. Oh and what does she want to "be?"...an English Professor, not a teacher, but a Professor. When I heard that, Professor Fritz Owl immediately came to mind:



The most succinct speaker of the evening was the Pastor who gave a one sentence blessing at the end to the effect "Lord, keep the rain away for the folks traveling home," or something to that effect. He received a resounding applause!

All in all it was a proud evening...

We went to a late night dinner afterwards at Red Lobster, which sucked. You would think a seafood restaurant would know how to cook fish! And by the time we got out of there it was quite late, so no celebrating was done at home. Not that we had any friends or relatives here who would celebrate with us, but even so, I wanted the graduates to feel special so I did decorate a little.

I'm glad it's over...and now I wish them, and all class of 2013 graduates well in their future endeavors.

"My great-grandfather used to say to his wife, my great-grandmother, who in turn told her daughter, my grandmother, who repeated it to her daughter, my mother, who used to remind her daughter, my own sister, that to talk well and eloquently was a very great art, but that an equally great one was to know the right moment to stop." ~Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Happy 21st Birthday Son!

My little boy turns 21 today. And you know what that means...I'm freaking old! I chose to have kids when I was in my thirties after I had sowed my wild oats, after I had traveled, after I had done pretty much everything I wanted to do. I waited because I never wanted to feel like I "missed out." I waited because I wasn't ready to become a mother until then. I waited because I wanted to be the best mother I could be. I don't know if I achieved that status, but I can say my son has turned out to be the best son a mother could ask for. To say I am proud of the young adult he's become would be an understatement.

In an era where drugs, drinking, tattoos, piercings, and irresponsibility are the new norm, my son has chosen to not partake in any of those lifestyles. He has held the same job for three years and has been promoted as far as he could be without becoming a full time employee. It's not his choice that he isn't full time. He took longer to graduate than I had hoped, but he made it work for him and will have two degrees when he finishes in May...one in business and one in social sciences. He'll be the first to tell you that if it wasn't for me he probably wouldn't have those degrees...not because of the cost and my pushing him to get a degree, but because my son has a tendency to shut off his alarm and go back to bed! He does love his sleep. He plans to parlay the degrees into a full time position, preferably with the company he's with, but if not, at another local one. Unlike the girl, he has no desire to leave Roanoke. He likes the laid-back, less stress environment of this small town rather than the hustle bustle of the big city. And that's fine with me. In a town where it's hard to find workers to show up regularly, never mind competent to hold their job, he is an asset to any company.

I guess you could say he's a nerd. And I use that term in the most complimentary sense. Unlike others who think of turning 21 as the night they could get hammered, my son has no desire to even drink. When I went to Spencer Gifts to see if I could find him a "gag" one, there was absolutely nothing that would reflect his personality. A beer pong set? Ha, he wouldn't now what to do with it. Shot glasses with curse words on it? Not his style. What do you get a 21 year old who pretty much buys whatever he wants with his own money? I guess I could pay for his dental bill. Yes, he's been cursed with my mouth.

But he's been blessed too. He has a quick wit, is intelligent, respectful, and is a kind soul. I'll never forget when he was in elementary school and he freed a bunny that was held captive in a net fence while the other children threw rocks at it. He has never been a follower. He's always been a quiet leader. His friends look to him for advice. He's the one they call when they're stuck somewhere. He's the one who is the commander of scores of troops who are part of his team on some international internet game. He's the one who treats his younger sister with respect, and as a friend, not as a bothersome nuisance like some brothers feel towards their younger siblings. He's the one who has never called in sick to work, or suffered from a hangover. He's the one whose fellow workers say he's "going places."

I agree with them, but to me, he's the one who will always be my little boy that used to play with Thomas the Tank Engines, put all 50 states together in a puzzle reciting their names with a pacifier in his mouth, and stood in front of the television watching CMT while singing and dancing to "Blue Moon" by Chris Isaak.

Happy 21st birthday son...the best advice I can impart to you is keep on the track you're riding and you will go somewhere, as long as you don't sleep through it. And pssst...I still hear you singing in your room when you're wearing headphones, only now it's Ozzy. Thank you for  hating rap and hip-hop music as much as I do. Your preference for rock makes me know I did something right. Love you!

Finalizing the School Years Portfolio

I had to put aside all the tasks I thought I would accomplish today when I realized it was already August and I hadn't completed one of the most important ones...finalizing my daughter's School Years portfolio.

Before my children were old enough to even begin school I had bought both of them one of these School Years books from some mail order catalogue. Each year, starting from Pre-School all the way through High School, the book is a memory-keeper of sorts.

At the end of each school year, the kids and I would sit down and fill out all the info...school name, age, height, weight, friends, activities, achievements, awards, etc. Each year has a pocket where important papers, photos, newspaper clippings, report cards, etc. can be placed in the envelope, along with a photo from that year. As you can see my daughter's book is stuffed to the brim!

One of my favorite things is reading the "When I Grow Up I Want To Be..." section  each year up until sixth grade. My daughter has "wanted to be" a ballerina, school teacher, singer, mother, model, artist, pianist, secretary, and fashion designer.

Before she went to work today at a position that wasn't one listed in the book, I asked her if she wouldn't mind filling out her high school page. She didn't roll her eyes at me or sigh. She did it gladly. When she goes on her own, I will keep the book, until she wants it. Maybe one day she can sit down with her kids and go through it. And then hopefully she will begin one for them as well.

I have nothing like this from my childhood. Although, after my father died I did find one short story I wrote when I was in school called "Golden Tuna." I received an "A" and I remember the nun who read the mystery said to the class that one day I would be a famous writer. Well that doesn't mean as much to me as the discovery that my father kept it all those years with his papers. When I found it, not only did it bring tears to my eyes, but it lit the spark in me to get back to writing, and when I thought I could go on no more telling my story, my dad's gesture kept me going.

If there's one thing I could impart to new mothers it would be to take an interest in your children's education and talents. Maybe you don't have to keep every drawing or poem they write, but do keep some. If you show them you care about their future they will take it seriously. And then one day, when they discover all you kept from them, for them, they will thank you.

Congratulations Class of 2012!

Congratulations to my daughter and the entire class of 2012!

My Baby's Graduating

As I sat in the yard yesterday waiting for Bella to do her business, I could hear the happy sounds of the children playing in the park across the street. It was the elementary school's field day. At first I smiled, but then I felt myself getting choked up.

It seems like it was just yesterday when I was one of the room moms filling the water balloons, serving snacks, corralling the children into lines, and helping with a million other little tasks when both of my kids went to school there. I thought back to the days when I had one child on each side, holding my hands as we walked to school. Most days I volunteered at the library or in their classroom, and I loved the way their faces lit up when my kids saw me. I believe they were proud of me as they never held back a hug, a kiss, or a "love you" in front of their friends. I feel the same way about them.

It's hard to believe my baby will be graduating this week. To say I'm proud of her would be an understatement. Anyone who knows us, knows what she has gone through in her life. In fact, if any of you have read Fractured Facade, I guess you realize "Annabelle" is based on her. She's faced every challenge with dignity, and never let it stop her from achieving her goals. Sure, it was a battle, but it was one she won...with honors.

As you can see from the shot below, her graduation gown will be adorned with many honor cords and even a beta sash. Not only is she one of the valedictorians of her high school, but is also the recipient of an academic scholarship from VWCC.



My daughter is the first female to attend college in our family, and she is also the first female to even finish high school on my husband's side. Yeah, that bar wasn't too high, but she chose to raise it, instead of going under it. I forsee a bright future for her and hope she always stays as kind, funny, intelligent, and tough as she is now. The only thing I would change is her taste in boys. Guess the apple didn't fall far from my tree...

"No Skills For You!"

For the past couple of years my daughter has travelled to Hampton Roads with BCAT to take place in the Skills USA Competition. The first time she entered was as a individual when she was a sophomore. She walked away as the state champion for prepared speech.



Last year she was part of a television production team, and although they didn't come in first, they did place. The competition was good for her. She was able to experience being away from home for a couple of days, learning to manage her money and time, meeting and interacting with new people from across the country, as well as sharpen her skills in a timed event.

She was looking forward to her final year competition, until she found out, she wouldn't be going. BCAT is the school she goes to every other day for the classes in the field she wants to work in, Mass Communications. HVHS is her "home" school. Once again her "home" school couldn't give a crap about the students at BCAT as they scheduled the senior prom, senior day, senior cap & gown, senior yada yada yada on the days students who wanted to participate in Skills USA would have to be out of town. You can be damn sure if the students were going to some sort of sporting tournament that would bring "glory" to the school, instead of some "intellectual" tournament that the school could care less about, they would have coordinated the dates.

Although my daughter is "dating" someone, she could care less about the senior prom, and as far as I know, has no intention of going. "Why should I spend all that money watching people I really don't hang out with Jersey Turnpike? Ewwww!" My wallet wasn't the only thing that sighed in relief. However, her teammate feels different, "But it's our senior prom!" Totally understandable, so my daughter sought out a different partner.

As she was searching for someone, anyone, she received the schedule of other senior events. Now, even the most jaded teen wants to get their cap and gown and participate in at least some senior happenings that take place during a school day. So...it looks like the girl won't be heading to Hampton Roads. In my best Soup Nazi voice -- "No Skills For You!" Oh well, if she plays her cards right, she'll be able to travel many places after she graduates and gets a job in the field she wants, and this is just a precursor to "real life" where there's certainly no shortages of disappointments.

Snuggie Wizard

At first, she laughed at the gift, "Really Mom, a blanket with sleeves?" but soon discovered the magical powers one receives when wearing it backwards. I give you the Snuggie Wizard...






"Damn, if only I had a wand and hat..."

No Free Ride Here

Well, our, I mean my daughter's, hopes for a full scholarship to Roanoke College were dashed when nestled amongst the Christmas cards was a Congratulations! letter informing the girl she had been awarded an additional $2,000. The professor who interviewed her wrote in his remarks that she was "a good person." I thought that was an odd thing to write. How would he know that after a five minute interview and her sitting quietly in his class? I snickered at that statement, she snickered at the amount. Then the girl rolled the letter into a telescope, held it to her eye, looked through it and said, "There goes Roanoke College...bye bye!"

Although the total award she would receive would amount to $20,000 per year, that is not nearly enough. That's less than half of what she would need. Writing those last two sentences hurt. Sorry, but no college is worth paying that amount of money per year. And one where her original broadcast, communications and/or graphic design major would have had to be replaced by history, it's doubly not worth it. Yeah, she's a history buff, and wanted to learn Italian, but what employment opportunities, besides teaching, which she's not interested in, would a $100,000+ degree in those two fields offer, and, be worth? Can you imagine paying full tuition for that? Well, I can't.

I would rather the girl attend Virginia Western for web & graphic design than saddle her with enormous student loans for a history degree. I would prefer spending my hard earned money setting her up in her own media business. I've seen her work, she's totally capable, and with more real-life experience, and not just a piece of paper telling the world she's "smart" can dominate the field. You might need that degree to get your foot in the door, but once you're in, it's not as important as excelling in your field. Heck, I never needed a degree, and I've accomplished more in my life than most people I know with degrees. But, I hear nowadays things are different, and we all want what's best for our children, so I won't stand in her way.

But, I think my plan is a better plan for her future. I've offered to buy her a Mac along with all the programs she'll need. It's expensive, but I feel it's a good investment in her, and a good opportunity for her. It's up to her to make it work. Meanwhile, with all the credits she already has from dual enrollment classes and passing AP exams, she'll have plenty of time to be able to take on a part time job as well.

Now, I know she was disappointed as she really liked Roanoke College's campus, and had she been granted enough money to attend without putting her in debt, she would have probably have gone there. What I liked most about it was that it was close to home. Frankly, I think it was more a "prestige" thing for her than anything else. I told her she should be proud of herself that she did get accepted, and not get down on herself just because she can't afford to go there. It took her about a day to lick her wounds, and I didn't let on that I was secretly glad her master plan had been thwarted. When she marched down the hall and informed me she was totally on board with this new plan, I just nodded my head. I always knew she'd be.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, if it's meant to be, it will be, so Roanoke College wasn't meant to be. Besides, in our family we never get anything handed to us. We have to work for everything, but we're tough, we know how to adapt, and everything happens for a reason. In the end, she's probably going to wind up back in New York City anyway. The salaries, and shopping, are better there...

You're With Me Always

"Grief starts to become indulgent, and it doesn't serve anyone, and it's painful. But if you transform it into remembrance, then you're magnifying the person you lost and also giving something of that person to other people, so they can experience something of that person." -- Patti Smith

With over 50 years of shared memories of my beloved cousin, it's hard to pull the best ones...they're all "the best ones." But I know John Paul would agree with me when I say music has always been one of our strongest bonds.

From Boris Karloff singing "You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch," through our bubblegum days of dancing to the Archies and Tommy James, through our first rock concerts -- The Who, Queen, Peter Frampton, The Stones -- whether sitting in the last row of Madison Square Garden, or sitting in the first row of the Bottom Line enthralled by Bruce Springsteen, or in a dank club on the Lower East Side, mesmerized by Television, Talking Heads, and Blondie, music was our life. When the 6'7" gentle giant took me to the floor to dance, whether it be squirming to Otis' The Worm, or pogoing to The Ramones, everyone cleared it for us. He was the best dance partner I ever had.

Together we discovered Patti Smith, who changed our lives, so I start this post with Patti's words and end it with two Patti songs...

"Oh
to be
not anyone
gone
this maze of being
skin
oh
to cry
not any cry
so mournful that
the dove just laughs
the steadfast gasps"



"and if there's one thing
could do for you
you'd be a wing
in heaven blue"



Godspeed John Paul, you're with me always. And if there's any comfort I can find from your death, it's in knowing you'll be there for me when it's my time...

Thank You

Take the time to thank a veteran today...thank you Dad.

On Mill Mountain

I must say, for someone who just had all four wisdom teeth removed, the girl looks pretty good. Unfortunately I can't say the same for the trees around Mill Mountain. Guess I waited too long to get up there and take some fall foliage shots...