The true magic of the world wide web isn’t cat videos. OK, maybe that’s part of it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Dbvd4E-334
But the real miracle is its ability to connect us. Across the miles. Or in my case, across nearly half a century. Two and a half years ago, I wrote a blog post on my mom’s birth date, about how I was so young when she passed away that I don’t really remember her. You can read it here:
A couple of weeks ago, on my birthday, someone commented on that post:
(JC = Jersey City, New Jersey. And don’t worry, she later realized she misspelled Damian. )
Needless to say, I did connect with Veronica “Ronnie” S. (nee Wain). She said she and her siblings would often wonder about what happened to their old neighbors on Liberty Avenue in Jersey City. She Googled my dad’s name recently and saw his obituary. A few more searches led her to a blog post from 2015… on a blog that only a handful of people even know about… it’s a web miracle!
Ronnie was able to provide several tidbits of info about my mother, helping me fill in the blanks and connect a few dots, and start to “know” a mom I don’t remember. Her email was far and away the most wonderful email I’ve ever received (sorry Nigerian prince who wants to share his millions with me).
I’m sharing her wonderful note here because it made me smile… through the tears, of course:
I have endearing memories of your mom from the 1960s that I’d like to pass to you: She had a beautiful smile, always, and looked exactly like the photo on ur page (wearing the pretty coat). Your mom and dad were both devout Catholics. When she was expecting Jeanne she would attend Mass on weekdays. Our family didn’t have a car and to save us the bus, train, bus trip to North Arlington to visit our brother Joe, she would often drive us, despite having so much to do at home. When Marie graduated from high school, your mom was kind enough to contact someone at Thacher Proffit law firm and secure her an interview; she was offered a secretarial job soon afterwards. She subsequently worked for William Simon at Salomon Bros., before retiring from the Port Authority of NY/NJ in 2000. Your maternal grandmother would visit you often, and I recall visits by your Aunt (Florence?) as well. She always dressed impeccably……I loved her hats! My mom enjoyed chatting with your grandmother (she was a lovely, soft spoken person!) and she shared stories of your uncle’s S.J. missionary work in the Philippines. Your grandmother missed him and sometimes worried about him. Your maternal grandfather would visit and help with small jobs around the house. He amended the soil in the front yard so Olga could have a small garden. He planted tomatoes and flowers there. We didn’t see him later in the 60s….I don’t know whether he predeceased your mom or, after her death, was too broken-hearted to return. John was very attached to your mom and would always be in her arms…..until you arrived, Damien (you were the sweetest baby!). Then he took his place by her leg. There was a back room on the first floor of your house and she asked my mom for advice on turning it into a playroom for you, J, J and V. I would see your mom from time to time as I passed your house on my way to the Blvd. bus, going to high school. She always showed an interest in what was going on in my life, and offered me advice. She did very thoughtful things……like one summer day, taking me for a ride to your aunt’s (Pat?) house in Verona. I remember hearing them laugh and talk in the kitchen. I think your mom was very close to her. Your mom and mine talked almost every day…..usually outside when the weather was nice, over the backyard fence or by phone. Olga was an authentic friend in every sense of the word……and the sister my mom never had. My mom never quite got over her death. Our neighbor George Martine (wife, Sabina, who also passed away around that time) missed her terribly as well. We knew she had become seriously ill yet never expected she would be hospitalized and not return home. Many neighbors and friends attended her wake and funeral Mass. (Damien, I think you all were too young to attend her wake….I didn’t see you there.) After her death, your grandmother came almost daily to help your dad, and close neighbors checked in and did whatever they could. When he decided to move to Arkansas we were really sad yet knew he did it with your best interests in mind. NJ was becoming pretty unaffordable even then. When he returned east to visit family, he would stop by to see my parents, and they would pick up on conversations, like he had never been away. (I believed they continued to exchange Christmas cards and letters about family life….and baseball.) I happened to be home for one visit (I had since married and move to West Orange) and was really surprised to to see that Jeanne had accompanied him. She was all grown up and sooooo beautiful!
The most significant lesson I continue to value from life on Liberty Avenue was we didn’t have much materially, and I sensed your mom and dad struggled more, yet we had everything we needed.
Damien, I have no doubt you, Jeanne, John and Virginia are fine, fine people and ultimately that is the most enduring tribute to your mom and dad.
My mom in Jersey City at the park close to our house.
God bless you, Ronnie – you gave me a priceless gift on my birthday. And:
As you can plainly see, her main talent is sleeping… usually about 23.5 hours a day (+/- 30 minutes). On Christmas Day, however, she decided to hit the road – probably due to the 35 house guests we had, although perhaps she just got tired of being chased by our foster puppy. She’s an indoor cat, but she does make occasional forays into the great outdoors, usually in the spring (she’s an avid bird watcher). But on Xmas day, it was colder than a polar bear’s toenails. She didn’t come back that night, or the next, or the next… She was outdoors in single digit temperatures, completely MIA, for nearly two weeks. I kept looking for her, to no avail, and was convinced that she was a goner – no house cat could survive that Arctic blast. This past Friday, my wife saw a dead black cat on the busy street near our house – we feared the worst for Coco Bear. But on Saturday evening, she showed up – looking a bit gaunt but seemingly none the worse for wear.
If cat’s have nine lives, I think Coco is down to seven. Unless she managed to build a kitty shelter in the woods out of twigs and leaves, and capture her own food. If that’s the case, we should change her name to Coco Bear Grylls.
Behold the mighty Black & Decker® Flavor Scenter Handy Steamer™
My wife and I got it eons ago, probably as a wedding gift (no Tiffany & Co. silver spoons for us!), so it’s easily more than 20 years old. We used it for a while back in the day, then it was relegated to the Shelf of Misfit Appliances in the basement, along with those other products that you don’t use often enough to justify granting them precious storage space in the kitchen (looking your way, Cocomotion™ and Jelly Belly Snow Cone Machine – we’re running hot and cold on you).
So there the Black & Decker® Flavor Scenter Handy Steamer™ sat, collecting dust, dryer lint and cat hairballs, until our son Peter went on his health kick. He hits the gym more often than he hits the books, and he eats the same lunch and dinner every day: baked chicken with brown rice, and baked salmon with brown rice, respectively. So we needed to step up our rice production in a major way. The Black & Decker® Flavor Scenter Handy Steamer™ to the rescue! It went from overlooked to overworked. It never left our kitchen counter, because we could barely keep up with Peter’s 16-year-old-weight-lifter consumption. As soon as we made one batch of brown rice, we needed to start on another. And heaven forbid if we forgot to make the rice, because then Peter would claim we were “stealing his gains” (i.e. messing up his meticulous weightlifting/eating regimen).
We also had to resort to buying brown rice in bulk:
This will last us about two weeks.
I’m sure the B&D® FSHS™ (we’re tight, so I call it by its nickname) was loving all the attention, and reveling in being needed once again after decades of neglect. It was having its Sally Field Oscars moment:
Then Christmas came… and Peter’s grandmother got him this:
A brand-spanking-new 16 cup rice cooker.
So sorry, B&D® FSHS™… hope you enjoyed your moment in the sun, but it’s back to the dark dungeon for you.
My kids are on winter break and it’s easy for them to fall into the trap of staring at a screen for hours on end. But yesterday my daughter Leah foraged for art supplies in our basement, and wound up creating this:
Picasso had his Blue Period, and now Leah is following suit (mainly because we only had blue and white paints in the basement).
I should mention that she was staring at a screen during the creation of this masterpiece – she was watching a Bob Ross video.
Good old Bob and his happy trees and happy accidents.
Bob and his amazing hair left us in 1995, but he’s gotten a second wind of late. It’s not just the fun hairstyle and the soothing voice… it’s because he clearly loved what he did. And a lot of his art instructions were really life instructions. Here are a couple of Bob-isms to ponder:
“I think there’s an artist hidden at the bottom of every single one of us.”
“Talent is a pursued interest. Anything that you’re willing to practice, you can do.”
I’m thrilled that my daughter is watching those old shows. Her work may never end up in the Louvre, but her life has a better chance of being a masterpiece. Thanks Bob, for continuing to make the world a happy place.
My wife’s uncle Neil, who passed away very suddenly this summer, was a great guy. He loved people and parties. He loved his job and the people with whom he worked. He loved promoting Mt. Adams, the hillside neighborhood and business district in Cincinnati where his company is based. He loved dogs. And he loved Christmas.
For 30+ years, Neil dressed up as Santa and visited family members and friends on Christmas Eve.
Today, all those things that Neil loved will be on full display. In Mt. Adams, the 28th annual Reindog Parade will be held. Thanks to Neil’s company, Towne Properties, the event has been renamed in his honor.
You’d better believe that we’re throwing some antlers on our pooches and participating.
And I believe that Neil is upstairs grinning from ear to ear.
Our oldest kid, Gabriel, isn’t a kid anymore. He turns 18 today. It’s a Monday. It’s a school day. He has to work at the pizza parlor tonight. Yep, sounds like most adult birthdays – booorrrrrrinnnng!
Now that he’s officially an adult in the eyes of the law, there are a lot of risky things he can do, like bungee jumping or skydiving or buying lottery tickets. (Actually, that last one isn’t risky at all – the house always wins.)
He can buy cigarettes but I hope and pray he never does.
He can get a tattoo but I hope he realizes that everyone has a tattoo these days, and the rebellious thing to do is to NOT get one.
He can buy fireworks and go to jail… somehow those two are related in my head, in an if/then sort of way. If you are stupid enough to buy fireworks, you are probably going to wind up in jail.
He can vote, and I hope he does… can we fast-forward to 2020 please?
But most importantly of all, he can get his own credit card… but I don’t see that happening anytime soon, not when his old man’s credit card works just fine at the gas pump and fast food restaurants.
And here’s his song of the day, a dedication to his parents:
Kevin Sullivan on Life advice from a man who lived it: “A good one Damian. Bring our lens into focus after the long weekend or our long life journey.” Jul 7, 09:38
You done said…