ch 8.part 2..SEPT.1, 1939-A DANCE

            All I have is a Voice. I am watching and listening more closely this time, to the movie, Tuesdays with Morie.  The first fifteen minutes I sat with an achey lump in my throat. During this part Morie played by Jack Lemon has his own funeral so he can hear and see his friends for the last time and at the end of his funeral he tells his friends that, "now I have something to say". He recites in part the title, September 1, 1939 which I just read. When you get to the last two stanza's you can feel the words as "Morie" starts, all I have is a voice... That part comes at the next to last stanza
      
            I've seen this movie four times before, the first with Jenny, my daughter who said, you'll love this mom, and then she gave it to me. She knew it reminded me of Mr. Vitalo, and this time, tonight, I felt like I went to his funeral. When Mr. Vitalo's time was coming I avoided it. I knew it would be about a certain time.
     In this movie Tuesday's with Morie, Morie loves to dance, and that alone, when Morie was thinking back, I too went back to our dance, mine and Mr. Vitalo's. As I listen to the movie in the background, I see myself in the seventh grade walking to school, all dressed up. I was going to my first and only dance.

             That day I wore my hair in an up sweep with long dark banana curls touching my almost bare shoulders. My dress had a square-cut neckline, fitted at the waist, puffy sleeves, and flared out from the waist down with a crushing skirt slip underneath.  I noticed all of the autumn colors in my dress, hues of yellows, browns,  and orange. I heard my high patent leather heels click as I walked with a  sense of pride. I carried with me an old Argus seventy-five box camera, yet I never took pictures. As I neared the school I caught a glimpse of myself in a store window. Honestly, I thought I looked beautiful without any buts, and faults and felt happily anxious wondering if Mr. Vitalo will see me, notice me. Yup a silly school girl crush.
               I walked into the building and music could be heard coming from the second floor gym. The second floor, his office, and I was about to pass, but slowed down waiting to hear that familiar, Hey Mac! But nothing came, nothing . I looked back and his office was empty. Where was he I thought, and suddenly my feelings of happiness withered. I went into the gym and could smell adult perfumes, and colognes. That great big gym clock with the wrought iron was covered in balloons. Girls looked like women overnight, beautiful, made-up, stylish hair, lipstick, heels and standing in circles, waiting. The boys were also waiting on the opposite side of the gym. They looked so grown up, and some were with shadows of a beard on their faces. Suits of stripes and sport jackets with well pressed slacks and ties against stiffly starched shirts. Then there was the hair. Where ever you looked, hair was up, down, slicked back, parted, curled, shiny, greased, teased and all for the dance.

              Kids went to the punch table, sipped, grabbed cookies, talked and listened to records on the old phonograph. Girls giggled as they would nudge one another to ask a boy to dance. I stood in one of the circles across from the entry door. I don't remember giggling, but doing those polite smiles, a fake laugh, acting happy. I really just wanted to leave. Mr. Vitalo wasn't there, so what good was it, what good was anything I thought. One of the girls said something like, hey Nance, what would you do if Mr. Vitalo came in and danced with someone? I think I just shrugged my shoulders and said, so,  so what? Then, right then at that moment he walked in carrying something in his hand, and he walked straight to me. Now I heard the girls giggling in whispers saying oow, here he comes. He stopped, bowed, looked at me and asked hand outstretched, may I have this dance Mac?

            I thought I was about to choke and stuttered until a kid in back of me said, say yes, say yes! YES! I said too loud. He smiled, walked away to the record player, and put on an old record titled Someone Who Cares, by Perry Como. We danced and I smelld some cologne he wore, felt the faintness of his tweed suit jacket brushing against my chin as I dared to get just a little closer. I loved this man. I knew that then, I know it now. At the end of the song he danced me back to where I stood earlier, and stepped away, bowed, said thank you and left. I was never the same. As years passed I would hope, wish and wonder if one day I would get to see him again once school was over for me.
          This movie is now over and I will end this chapter with one of the last statements Morie made to his friend Mitch...Death ends a life, Not a Relationship.
P.S. Dance as if no one was watching, always dance.
    

Dear Mr. Vitalo ch 8.Part 1

Childhood Memories, One More Wish

   Wax looking, red delicious apples

Chiquita yellow, Sunkist orange and

Goose bump fuzzy peaches

Ma ! Hurry, hurry

Clippity-clop, clippity-clop

Domenic’s vegetable and Victor

With blinders on, proud with his golden main

And thick tail, clippity -clop

Fading off, ten -cents a pound!

Sitting on stoops, large cements blocks of white

Pretending it was my stallion

War games, helmets of green, broom sticks for guns

Hiding angry ten-year old boys

Pow ! Bang ! Got em’

Circles of friends playing marbles

Green cats eyes gone mad

Little girls playing jacks, jump rope

And hopscotch, I win! I win!

Not a care in the world, only a wish,

A wish for one more dance

Adolescent yearning, a crush

An eighth grade dance

Autumn- colored dress of gold’s, red, and brown

Butterflies in my stomach, the sun shining

Dizzy with glee, knowing he’d be there

Praying he’d be there

A perspirant-filled room

Now transformed into a ballroom

Ablaze with color, red, yellow, green and blue balloons

Yucky boys, now handsome men in suits-

Wearing old spice, and aqua velvet

Tomboys now dazzling in earrings , heels

Up do hair, and shapely dresses.

The music, the music remains, forever

Sillohouette on The Shade, a great song

With a yellow rose he was before me

Bowing, may I have this dance?

Yes! Oh Yes!

My Principal’s old-fashioned wool jacket

Gently brushing my neck

With flecks of pink to match his tie

Dancing, dancing, the music,

 Over too soon, much too soon

My crush was sealed forever

Walking home, the yellow rose still

Held tightly, picking the fragrant petals

He loves me, he loves me not, He loves me

Oh, If I could only have one more dance!

Mr. V.

Written prior to re-meeting him again in 97

These Rotten Kids Today....

     How many times have you heard people say that? Too many times.. In my experiences I have met many, many, nice and hard working kids. Sure there area lot of rotten kids, but there are also a lot of rotten parents. Many kids who come from bad homes turn out well because they see who they don't want to be like. It also works the other way around. We end up being who we are because it's who we want to be, and yes, it really helps to have a positive foundation. If you grow up with a mom and dad who are decent, moral people, with possibly a spiritual connection and strong beliefs, the chances are higher you will come back to that should you decide to find your own way in life weather you take an express track or the slow track.
    You too may have strong beliefs but unlike your parents. No matter how hard you strive to be independent of their thinking, I bet you end up, maybe years down the road, very close to your parents way of thinking. Maybe I feel this way because I came from a foundation of being sent to church. What I learned at church appeared to be so opposite of how my parents raised us, it left me with a lot of confusion, that is until...
     Until I met a few people who represented to me what I learned at church. Those people were three men, (like the trinity) these men and I used to talk about "these rotten kids today". These men came from an Educational point, a Spiritual point, and a worldly point. Saying that as a description, all three men are alike in  a worldly,  educated and spiritual way.  Every generation is like the one before- is close to how our chats ended-sound familiar?

Harden Your Heart?

    This morning on the way back from somewhere, I listened to a young preacher. His subject was, well I'm not too sure, but I do know he spoke about Moses and Jesus, who was more believable, and of course Jesus is. He mentioned something about doing it now, making a decision now. He went on with talking about Dwight Moody and the Chicago fire, how Moody gave a sermon and told people to come back tomorrow if they weren't sure. Then the fire happened and more than half of those same people who went to his tent revival, died. They didn't have a tomorrow to become saved or whatever was Moody's intention.
     Somewhere in his preaching he talked about how we harden our hearts to things. Here is where I got lost as I listen to people something about their voice will grate on my nerves. His voice was okay, but not captivating enough for me to keep my attention. Now I'm sure his voice was fine for most. We all, or most of us have some little quirks that stop us from doing what we know we should be doing, listening.
     I know about hardened hearts,and know enough to know I have been responsible for terminating people from my life for whatever reason, and not looking back. It is definitely a learned process. I thought about this yesterday, thought about myself, how I am, who I am and why. Well I know why but never thought about it during a process of cutting people from my life. Some were very good and decent people, most were not. I know why I cut these people out, and I know maybe it's time to try not to do that anymore. It really doesn't make sense, yet it doesn't bother me, still I might try to do better with terminating people.
    A hardened heart can be lonely I would think, yet I am not lonely at all. To go further, I think my heart is not as hard as it could be, because I have people I care about very much beside my children and a few old friends. Those people I don't even know, like st. Jude kids, MDA kids, hurting people. So if you think you have a hard heart and it bothers you, look again, and think more about it. Talk to a pastor, a good friend, even a stranger. Sometimes those who know you less, know you more. But as the preacher said this morning, if I received anything in his message, it's this, don't wait!

Contin/Colgan airlines outsource lives#3407

           Tonight, right now I am listening to what I don't believe, and I can say now, if I didn't want to fly before this program, I really don't want to fly now. I am watching PBS/Frontline, and hearing about how Continental outsources to Colgan airlines.

          In February 2009 Colgan/Continental crashed because not of pilot error as a number one crime, but because Colgan and Continental didn't do their jobs in background checks, resulting in pilot error. On top of that both pilot and co-pilot were tired. The co-pilot flew at least twice the day of her last flight, knew she needed sleep and stated according to the black box, she couldn't afford a hotel. She flew a year before to gain experience?

            The PILOT IS WHO AMAZES ME... Colgan did not do their work and should lose their business. That pilot had five strikes against him, failed many tests, had only 618 hours of flying to become a pilot, half of what is needed. Colgan airline with a snap of a finger gives promotions like I dye my hair. If you are tired or sick, Colgan will tell you according to a former employee, you are then stuck where you are, but we can change the records, shorten your time so you can get home-all according to a former employee.

        REGIONAL CARRIERS -which is what they are know as ! Make sure you ask when you book a flight, if you are getting the true airline carrier or  a regional carrier. The contracts read-code share carriers are responsible for anything that goes wrong. So should a small carrier contract with Continental, crash, Continental is not responsible, but the small carrier is. The big airlines make this so in contracts. In addition these planes have the contracted airlines  name all over it, in the seat, on your tickets, on your baggage, anywhere which looks like it is the carrier you called and booked your flight with, or I should say booked your life with!
      Who is regulating your life? Ask . It's your life. The FAA has less than 4000 inspectors and over 20, 000 fliers a day.
                    Value Jet, safety issues-1996 flight 592 Miami. 110 people-another company known for problems with safety.
   Mr. Pena  stood immediately after the crash and stated how safe Value jet is. Would he say that if his son or family member died that day?
          REMEMBER WHEN YOU BOOK YOUR FLIGHT YOU BOOK YOUR LIFE! ASK QUESTIONS WHILE YOU STILL CAN.

    THE Q-400 ANOTHER COLGAN PLANE WHICH CRASHED IN BUFFALO- another trip, Colgan was short on pilots, more warnings in 2008 about this company-they have to calculate weight and was over the limit, was told to list three adults as children, refused, and his manifest was taken away and altered by someone else.
     This program should be on every day at all hours so more people will see and hear in disbelief. All to save money and lose lives. Why is Colgan not closed down? Maybe they are right now, but worth asking  or checking into
this corporate culture. The report I am watching was sent to Washington for an investigation and months later it was 3407 that crashed in addition to other crashes which caused this investigation. The owner of Colgan was in Washington at the senate hearings. Randy Babbett is the FAA in charge and talking doublespeak saying, things are already in action before we did anything, really? Sounds good doesn't it? We know Washington...and they know money and power. Let's put Colgan out of business and even Continental by not using them. It's an industry problem. Drastic, sure, but aren't 110 people worth it?
      Look for the Life of a REGIONAL PILOT on PBS
  

How to Forgive a Cheater/spouse

           Yes, forgive if you can. That's what's best for you if your "special" person who claimed to love you cheated on you. So after you forgive, then move on, married or not.WHY? Because you know that how ever many times they tell you they would never do it again-they will, and you also know it's in the back of your mind to pay it back, one day, some day if you haven't already. You are so good now at keeping your own secret cheat, and you're really such a good person, your spouse/cheater person would also think you would never cheat. But You know you have opportunity, much more that the other one does. You know every time someone flirts with you, you have that chance again, and again, and again. After all you are now at that stage in life where you have that distinguished look, that look that the opposite gender loves. You also know that now at this stage in life you don't have any real obligations, unless you want to, and you probably do as that's the kind of person you are. Yes, forgive, but you never forget do you? So, move on to someone who really appreciates you.

Surprise Christmas My Kids

            I was given a very small package this year and told not to open until Sunday Morning-all I am saying it is was flat with a signature and has changed my whole life-I am now free to do as I please. Still I choose to do what I am doing until June, then will finish my plan. This was a gift my kids were going to give me in March, but have decided against it for particular reasons and wanted me to end 2010 with that ahh, I can breath better bow feeling.
      It is the season in life that makes a difference for many people, so make each season what you need it to be for you. Seasons are short...off to make eggs.

How Long Friendship Without...

How long will it be for you and for me?
will you stay like you said you would?
or will you leave because you could?
What is the price of being a friend?
Can you stay and see the end?
Or will you remain as you do
looking out without seeing through?

How long Friendship the meaning?
Do you live without dreaming?
Do you expect of others to be
more like you and less like me?
So less I become who I am
to be a friend to you and then
I find I'm lost, can't find me
lost in friendship, now back to dream!

Back to  live or to die
no longer can I inside cry
for a life, losing the why
Back to where I once could live
inside a world, I once hid
Do you live without dreaming?
How long friendship without meaning?

Friendships...How to End Things

        Are you a person who likes to end things when you know you should, so you take the chicken way out? Pick an argument, or do something that will lessen the value of that friendship. Sick isn't it? Another way to end it is to just stop answering the phone, door, e mails and anything else that comes your way. I have had a few good teachers for that type of thing, and once I saw how those people behaved and how well it worked for them, well it's a worthy subject.. Even though I didn't particularly like them, I still learned. We can learn a lot from people we watch. Mostly what I learned is how not to get burned. So for those who you care for most, and know a friendship has to end for whatever reason,  do them a favor by having them dislike you, not trust you because they "think" you did something, and all around you make it easier on them.
       Ending friendships is as if someone died, so before a death to make it easier on them, walk away, pick a fight, make it appear as if it's all their fault, or your fault. Who cares whose fault it is. If you do it right, it's cut and dried. Isn't that better than having to attend a funeral? Isn't that better than moving and having to go through long good-byes, tears, sad farewells, years of missing someone who meant a lot to you? RAD? Perhaps, but who cares?

Thank a Nurse...

      Who else would wipe your butt? I know, eeewww, but it's true. How many times do you know someone who has told you all kind of hospital stories and leaves out the crusty stuff ? They bathe you, wipe you, listen to you, make your bed, and do just about anything to get you through a day in a place you may not want to be. I say may not because some people like being there. Some are chronic, as in hypocondriacs and need that attention. Who else gives ya sympathy when no one around you will?
       Years ago when I was in a hospital in California I had a tiny, tiny nurse with a tiny voice to match. I was lying on my side feeling down because I was away from my two children. She came to me and say, aww honey you look so sad, are you okay? I don't like that kind of talk, makes a person feel worse. I could feel tears, but wishing she would leave I was able to hold back, and then, then she did the unbearable; She patted my shoulder and saw oh sweetie it's okay if you cry, I know you miss your babies. Yup, that did it. What a big bawl baby I was. Now if she just left me alone I would have been fine, but no, she had to go and act sweet.

      But that's who they are, most of them anyway. Another nurse at a local hospital one day woke me up after a back surgery by punching my thigh. Yes, she punched me. I yelled hey what are you doing. This young woman was very pretty, but also very bitter. She had cancel a while ago and her husband left her while they were skiing. Her illness and divorce were so fresh I found out I wasn't the only one she was taking her anger out on. Standing over me and smiling she said, hey sleepyhead, you're not dying, wake  up! What the hell was that. I ignored her, turned over and she knuckled me hard in the other thigh. At that time in my life I was still very much a weenie, took a lot of crap from people. She said I'm getting your wash basin, and you better be awake when I get back. I was. Sitting up I rang the buzzer and another nurse came in asking me what I needed that she wasn't my nurse and...and I said please, make that other nurse stay away from me. She hit me twice and...just then she walked in. I was lucky though. The last nurse took her out in the hall, and she came back in to assist me and then told me about the first nurse and all her problems.
      I had such great treatment that morning after the first nurse, and I doubt it was to make up for the first person, but knew that I was usually treated well. The doctors come in, visit a little and leave you back to the nurses. Most take into consideration all of your issues. If you complain a lot, if your used to being spoiled, if you have a big mouth, if you don't complain enough. I, at that time fit into the last category. Having the second surgery on my back, I was made to get up the second day and sit in a chair which itself had an angle that sloped down and back. The nurse said she'll be back in ten minutes. Well that passed twenty minutes later and she wasn't back.
                                             Almost forty minutes later still not back my room mate and I could hear the nurses arguing down the hall. My Room mate was a wonderful lady from Yugoslavia with a nice husband who visited her twice a day. He greeted me each time, asked if I needed anything and was just a pleasure to see them both together. Well I tried calling the nurse, and after that forty minutes my face was getting white and I was having a hard time breathing. My room mate gets up, holds onto the beds, and makes it to the door, calling and cursing, hey you damn people she said, where the hell are you when we need you?
      My nurse came back saying she had an emergency, and apologized, but my room mate wouldn't let her get away with that. She said oh no you didn't, you were with that doctor, I saw you and am reporting you, who do you think...on and on she went. Other than that one time, that young lady was my nurse and treated me very good, but her head was elsewhere. She was involved with a married doctor.
The next day she came in my room to talk to me again and apologize again to both me and my room mate. She ended up telling us she had quite a few flings with the doctors and how messed up her personal life was. With her strong accent, my room mate said, well maybe you get your head out of the sand, away from this hospital, and think over your life, they are just using you! Strong words, but they helped. That nurse gave her notice the next day. She wasn't there when I left almost two weeks later.
       All in all Nurses do a great job and where we would be without them?

Hey Fort Hamilton! 6/18/11

          Hello old Fort Hamilton people, well maybe not so old. Okay so I don't have anything new yet, but to let people know if you can reserve a room at The Hotel Gregory in Brooklyn for the 18th do it asap. I am working on trying to get in touch with group sales. I have had more responses so far, better than the last try, so hopefully it happens, but people have to get their money in once I give a final date, please.
   Back to the hotel. I know most of the people who work there, pretty helpful, the hotel is decent, free breakfast, so let get it done , rock n roll-pass the word, "Thunderbird"! Sure you all know, we can park on the street, and they have parking at 25. a night or we can just get together and move cars to make our own spaces-lol-ah old times.

Dear Mr. Vitalo ch 7

        Dear Mr. Vitalo

                  You'll never guess what happened the other day, you know after I brought my brother's Bobby's coat back? Well I didn't get in trouble and  he didn't rat me out to my parents. That alone is a big deal in my family. I know you know how it is to fight for a place in a big family, well even in a small family.
      On another note, a lot has been happening around my house, and your old friend Joe Paterno too with Football. So first, about Joe, that guy just doesn't give up. Maybe his age, ego, or just pride. I know all about that, and have had to look deeper inside myself about that. Even my kids have told me and reminded me at times about pride, yet they too have pride. So Joe Pa, his nickname which I'm sure you remember is still going as far as he can go with his PennState team, but it's obvious to see him become a bit more frail. You two are the same age, but the last time I saw you, you still looked as good as you did at PS 140. Mr. V, I'm so glad I have those memories of you. I think I'm probably more fortunate than many. I have been a bystander, able to see and witness with an open heart which was closed to others, see all the wonderfulness in those people. Some people never, ever get to see that, or FEEL it.
      Sometimes Mr. V, our hearts are so closed off for many reasons, that we just can't allow anything in. But God, Mr. V., has given me a stained glass window into the goodness of others. It seems that as I am about to get fully closed off, and not intentionally, a knock comes at my door. I even hear that knock at odd times, and when it comes, I think of the good things with good memories. These knocks also come like the sound of a doorbell. I sit up as usually I'm sleeping and wonder if I dreaming or is someone there. Each time that happens I am brought back to a time when I lived in a town of Jacobus.
      I think I told you that one day when I was at your house in LI, you know how I was sound asleep, or thought I was. I was renting a big old house with green print wallpaper. Then I couldn't stand so much green. everything was green, the walls, carpeting and steps. So when it was time to sleep, I welcomed it. But recently at that time I had back surgery, so to this day, I wonder if I was on pain meds, but the truth be told, I know what I saw.

        After tossing and turning I finally fell asleep, only to be wakened by something catching my eye, looking over my shoulder towards the front door with it's three small glass clear windows, I saw Jesus standing in the air looking at me with his hands outstretched. I took a double look and saw the wallpaper, that ugly paper, I must be dreaming. I turned back to go to sleep again, but decided to take another peek, just a peek to make sure I was just overtired and achy, that I didn't really see what I thought I saw. But again He was there, standing in mid-air, hands out, palms up facing the ceiling. This time I grabbed my comforter ( maybe I didn't know which comforter was which) and pulled it tight up against my head and lay still for a very long time. I tried to sleep, hard and fast. Sleep wasn't about to come and I was faced Mr. Vitalo, with knowing I had to look just one more time, so I did, and there He was. I wanted to say something, but I know I was still, well really I think I was scared. He stood, eyes now looking, just looking and I don't remember where, but his hands were still straight out, palms up, in mid-air, slightly away from the wall. He worse a light colored gown, long dark hair and beard, no smile, and his gown covered his feet. But what struck me most was his hands. I have always loved hands, but I knew I never saw His hands in detail, just hands as you would see anyone's who had them outstretched in the dark with a light shining in.
          Mr. Vitalo, I saw His hands, and I know you have too, as I know you are with HIM.
          Mr. Vitalo, I know why you came into my life. You were the beginning of waking me up to pure goodness. Sure I saw it before in the Norwegian ladies at church and Pastor Don, but to feel it, it came from you. How I loved to watch you walk, and later on learning how that tied into your life which I'll get into in this story  at another time, But life is coming full circle, and I bet you know all of this.
I would even think you too were part of a mission. Well I have to go for now
Mr. V.  -see ya soon-I always do.

He heard me say...

       I can't believe this! For only a few seconds I gazed around looking at men I never met and one I knew,a little kid I just met, and a kid who lives with me. We were all in my basement. Even now I can't believe how it ended today. These men are Christians, much like  a family I met years ago who you know are Christians by the way the are, not by what they say. The father of that family was one of the men who were here today. They came to put a water heater in, but for me it was much more. I never heard anyone ever say to me, now we expect...as I heard once before which made me feel that being a Christian was conditional. That and seeing my own family with a million dollar brother who is a Pastor also behave in a conditional manner. But today the actions of three men brought me back to three men I knew as a kid.

       Those other three men didn't know one another until I told them at different times how each one became important and were there for me to talk to as a very young teen. I had Mr. Vitalo from nine to three every day, Pastor don on Sundays and sometimes Wednesday nights if I was allowed to go to youth studies, and Mr. korsun, my neighbor who lived up the street. Mr Korsun I saw just about every day when I was walking my baby brother.

         Now these guys, or men I should say were plain and simple nice guys. It's the first time I've been around a few guys working that I didn't hear any swearing, crude remarks, but simple a friendly chat and still joking around. Watching them I could not stand and do nothing, or even leave and go upstairs until finished. I had to pitch in too. It's what we're meant to do if we physically are able, and today I was. Right now I'm not. I am as sore as if someone, some ten, beat me up, but it's a good feeling and no I don't want to get beat up, ya dummy!

          My basement started to leak over two years ago and I didn't have any idea as I stopped going downstairs for certain reasons. When I did, I can't begin to tell you what a dangerous mess I had. It overwhelmed me and nothing ever did that to me. No matter what situation  came about I felt I could and would manage it, but this? This was beyond me. It would cost I'm sure about three thousand dollars to clean, tear down walls, haul away, and replace the water heater, maybe more.
          
          I'm still not able to really voice my gratitude, and financially; well, even that is beyond my scope of comprehension after a chat I had with two of these men. During this clean-up as I was glancing around I said to myself but out loud in what I thought was a soft voice, I can't believe this! One man needed a light, the other guy said I'll get one, then they needed a shop vac and one guy said I'll go get mine. No complaints, no , oh what are we going to do now, just solving one  problem after another without moaning and groaning. I used to work like that and it sure felt good to be with those positive people again. So anyway this guy comes over to me smiling, asked, you can't believe what? All I could answer was, you heard that?
              Then the men kidded about how he hears everything-yes HE does. To be a Witness is to be an example, not so much a mouthpiece, and today the examples came to me in three-again! Thank You.

Why God Gave Me...

      Mike and Jenny, my two kids. He gave them to me, picked me, chose me to show me how great life can be in the second quarter. I sure didn't believe it the first quarter. All I seemed to focus on were people who were greedy and selfish with of course some exceptions, like Pastor Don, Mr. Vitalo, and Mr. Korsun a neighbor who lived up the street. He was someone I not only talked to every day, but was able to re meet him again years later. We renewed an old friendship.
      Mr Korsun was Jewish, Mr. Vitalo Italian and Catholic, and Pastor Don Lutheran and Swedish/Norwegian. All three men had an important place in my life as did a few close friends, mainly Sandra Baylor. Even as close as we were, there was always a secret we had in our lives that we never shared until we knew it was safe. When was that? When everyone was gone and could no longer hurt us in one way or another.
        So of course we become jaded, but I have always been thankful for my kids and have forever had to wonder to my kids, I don't know why God gave you to me, but yeah I do. He gave me them to show me how each period in my life has only become better because of my kids, and because of my kids I have a reason to find good in life all over again. Happy New Year everyone old and new, young and old!

Christmas in Brooklyn

         Just another week and it's over, but not in Brooklyn. At least that's the way it used to be. When I was in Brooklyn last time for Christmas, it felt the same. I stayed after Christmas and people were still wishing each other a Merry Christmas, in a store, on a corner, in a restaurant, and meeting old friends. But I don't find that here. People may ask, so how was your holiday, and that's almost everywhere, but they don't really care, because if you said lousy, how many would stay and listen or find a reason to beat it away from you? I know I sound like a real bummer this year, well of course I do. Have you read anything from last year I wrote? No because I didn't, so this is really simply reality.
         One year I tried out the expression, hi, how are you? I answered this well to do man honestly. I am smiling even now thinking back. We were at my son's grammar school and it was the principal, a very handsome man and we always had good chats. Having pretty much been a positive person, I was feeling crappy that day, a lot of back pain, so when I walked into school, I couldn't imagine that I was going to have to stand as a lot of parents showed up for this function. But there I was and standing next to Bob who I came to talk with on a first name basis. He sees me, smiles a welcome smile and says, so how are you?
         I say to him, well actually I feel pretty bad, my back is killing me, my car just broke down and I think the mechanic caused it but his father is taking his....and then Bob broke in with, sorry I asked and slowly eased his way away from me, patting my arm, saying I have to be off now. Don't ask if you don't care. It' is that simple. So here we are, almost Christmas again and people have all kinds of problems, health, money, family, spiritual and some we can't even imagine. On a commercial today for James Roberson who puts in wells for fresh water for kids in Africa I see kids with extended bellies, flies in their eyes and pain, so much pain, we couldn't even imagine the feeling, and here we are celebrating Christmas for all the wrong reasons, yet I too am guilty. Guilty of what? Really only being an AMERICAN and that I wouldn't change for everything in the world.
          Maybe next year I'll feel different, but I will still always be proud to be an AMERICAN and if I had a million bucks, I would be out there shopping with the rest of the nuts, but I would also give half away. Merry Christmas everyone, everywhere!  Ho!

Dear Mr.V. Christmas ch.6

           It was getting colder and colder. Christmas was almost here and most kids were excited as usual. I always had mixed feelings about Christmas. In my family like many, it meant drinking and that was the part I hated. The part I loved most of course was going to church, Zion Lutheran, for the Christmas party held by the Norwegian ladies, as well as Christmas services. I also really liked having new pajama's on Christmas Eve, seeing my aunt Greta and my Gram. My Gram Fanny died some years ago while I was in the home I am now living in. I sure loved her and aunt Greta. They were just plain sweet, except Gram could be mean in her honesty, but never towards me. She hated to see how my little brother treated me or any siblings in the family, so she was in my corner. I'm sure you know how that feels, like protective parents are supposed to be.
         As Christmas is approaching, I see Mr. Vitalo outside walking, pacing in the cold in his old brown pin-striped suit. He yelled at me, Mac, hurry up inside, it's cold out here! He had his suit jacket collar up, arms folded inside each other, and no gloves. I don't know what I was thinking, but the next day I took my older brother's winter coat to school and sneaking in earlier, I put it on Mr. Vitalos' chair with a pair of gloves inside the pockets, then ran down the other side of steps and outside to come in the usual way so Mr. V. would see me. He did, waved me on in to school. After the second bell, some kid came to my home room and told my teacher. Mrs. Cavenaugh, Mr. Vitalo wants to see Nancy. Nancy? He called me Nancy? uh oh.

             In I walked and Mr. Vitalo had the coat hung around his shoulders, and the gloves hanging off his finger tips. He looked at me with a  grimace mixed with a smile and then a straight face. I didn't know what to think. Very quickly he said, did you put this coat in my office and if so why? No Mac, no name, nothing? Like I was just everyone else. Looking down I answered, yes. Then he said it, why Mac?
I asked him how he knew it was me and he told me I didn't know how to really be sneaky, so I should never even try again-ever! Seems Mr. Hazel the secretary saw me. So I had to explain that I thought he didn't have a winter coat or gloves so I took my  brothers'. Mr. Vitalo asked me if I thought it was okay for my brother to be cold. See, he never just dropped things, but needed to explore so kids would learn. So I told him we had loads of coats and we always wore each others. I still have a favorite coat in my mind. It used to be called a "boy coat". It was double breasted and navy blue. I never buttoned it no matter how cold or how much snow we got, I just loved wearing it. More about that coat later.
           Well Mr. Vitalo walked over to me, got very close, and I got very, well very nervous, but he just smiled and said, Mac, see that coat hook, and that long brown coat. DID I? It was just like my blue boy coat but his was tan! Why didn't I see that before? Well we talked some more, and I ended up taking my brothers' coat and gloves back home which was harder getting in than out.. As I looked past one door in the house thinking it was all clear,a big hand reached out and grabbed the coat. It was Bobby. He was okay with it after I not only explained but had to make him four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and pour a quart of milk as well as comb his hair. I couldn't wait to get to school the next day and tell Mr. Vitalo. He sure made my life better, just knowing I had someone special to talk to and trust.

Dear Mr. Vitalo ch. 5

        So now I was in the seventh grade and things really changed. My oldest brother Bobby was in high school and I heard stuff about him getting in trouble. Not my Bobby I  thought. But it was true. My parents were called up to Ft. Hamilton High and given a choice, take him out or we'll throw him out. Why? Because Bobby stood his ground, maybe not the way most would have done , but he did, and was partly wrong. A teacher asked him to pick up a paper. Bobby said no. That in itself was not acceptable, but he was being asked, which made him think he had  a choice. Oh before I forget, Bobby got to meet Mr. Vitalo, in his Marine dress blues at my eighth grade graduation. So now, Bobby says no, and the teacher comes up to him in his face and asks, what did you tell me? Bobby repeated, no, this time explaining. Why should I pick up trash from the PTA from the night before? They are adults to set examples, and on top of that we have a janitor, so if neither is doing what they're supposed to do, why should I? The teacher Slapped Bobby's face. Bobby then called him an F'n...well a remark related to his Jewish culture which he learned from my father. Still Bobby was old enough to know better at seventeen.
                        The next day he and my parents walked out of FT. Hamilton for the last time in Bobby's H.S. career. Within a week Bobby joined the Marines. Me? I went to school bragging about my big brother Bobby in the Marines.
          Little did I know Mr. Vitalo heard me and one day called me into his office as I passed. First it was, Hey MAC! Tuck that blouse in! Yeah, like old times, I smiled. On the way back it was, Hey Mac! Come in here. It was a Thursday. Here is what was different and new about the seventh grade. I was allowed to join Released Time School.

             Released Time School was held every Wednesday at Zion Lutheran, my home church at two in the afternoon, but we were allowed out at one-thirty to get there in time. It was only four blocks from school but I loved anything connected with church. So Mr. Vitalo only wanted to ask how I liked it and did  I learn anything. So Cool, we were having a conversation, and he asked me to sit down while we talked. I was not in trouble! Mr. Vitalo and me! Me, and him! But that wouldn't last long. Soon my father made me quit going, but made me lie so I would still get out early. His plan was I would leave as usual, but walk around a block out of the way so no one would see me, but I hated it and I think it showed the next time Mr. Vitalo asked me how thing were going.

     Within two weeks I was again called in the office, this time Mr. Vitalo, my Mr. Vitalo didn't look very happy. He said, so MAC, how is released time going? Looking away from him which I never did, I answered it was fine. He asked me, would you lie to me MAC? Oh no, my heart, knees and eyes dropped as low as possible when I mumbled, no Mr. Vitalo. He knew. I knew he knew something was up. Then he told me; Mac, I've been watching you (inside happy) and the past two weeks you have been crossing a different street. The first time he saw me he was crossing to go to the barber, but the second time he watched because he knew something was up. So now here we were, me biting my bottom lip and him just waiting. It was so quiet we never heard Mr. Hazel, the secretary come in. He said the church is on the phone.  Taking the phone,Mr. Vitalo only said, yes, yes, okay thank you Pastor.

                  Thank you PASTOR? Was he talking to my Pastor Don Smestad? Oh no, this was worse than ever. I had a crush on him too and to think two men I cherished knew I lied. Now it was almost out. Mr Vitalo in his wisdom told me to sit and relax. He gave me all kinds of praise for my character. I'm not too sure I accepted that since I never heard that before, so why was he saying this now. He told me. Mac, I know you have a good reason for playing hooky from church, so out with it. I said Mr. Vitalo, I can't, I'll get in trouble. He not only filled it in for me, but actually took care of it. Yet when he said he was calling my father, I think for a moment, just for a moment, not more, I didn't like him-until I listened.
          I heard him ask politely if he was speaking to my father, and said he had some bad news, that his daughter was playing hooky from church and since she did that she was no longer able to attend, that she won't tell us where she was going, so no more released time school, no more mid-week hooky. Mr. Vitalo smiled a mischievous smile and winked at me as he hung up, saying thank you for your understanding.
     I was laughing so hard inside, I was sure he heard me. Now off the phone he said to me, okay MAC, spill it, between you and me, tell me what's been going on. I told him. My father said I had to leave early but just go home so I can watch Jimmy so he can sleep earlier. Mr. Vitalo just nodded, then said okay, we'll keep this between us. As I left, I stopped and turned, Mr. Vitalo? I knew I still had uncertainty in my eyes, but he only had to say this: MAC when I say it's between us, it is. Smiling I walked away, but this time he stopped me. MAC, if you ever need to talk, I know you know where my office is.
    From that day on, knowing Mr Vitalo was there made every day a worthwhile day, made every day have a purpose and made every day, make me feel like I counted. That's, was who Mr. Vitalo was.

Dear Mr. Vitalo ch 4 cont'd

       I'm sitting here listening to Willie Nelson and thinking about Mr. Vitalo, ALWAYS On My MIND...so here it was summer and I was walking baby brother Jimmy. Fourth avenue was quiet, no sign of Mr. Vitalo so I turned the carriage around and headed down the block when I hear a whistle. Ignoring it I then hear a male voice which I would never, could never mistake, Hey MAC! he called. He never heard my heart beating or saw my smile bursting from inside, but I think he knew just a little that I had a crush as I answered an innocent, oh hi Mr. Vitalo!
      
       He had a swagger about him like no other, and the way he carried himself, like his head, he'd tilt to one side just a little, look down then up quickly, thinking, always thinking. I stopped as he said, so is this what you've done with your summer, walk a baby carriage? Going on without waiting for an answer he said, I hope that kid appreciates you when he grows up. I just smiled and said, yeah, he will. Mr Vitalo waved a little shake of his hand, said, I better be off, supper is waiting, see ya MAC! I watched him as he walked away but first pretending I walked away too. I could never walk away without seeing him leave first. I used to wonder, what his family was like and what his wife looked like, why he loved her and all that kid crush stuff.
       Before I knew it, we were shopping for clothes for school, all seven of us and my father. He was just better at money stuff which he never passed to us girls, just the older boys-for a while that is. Oh I forgot to mention, we moved that summer to fifty-sixth street between fourth and fifth avenue's. Now we had to walk three and a half blocks to school which I loved. No longer was I in sight of the menacing monster, my father. My parents were told we had to move by the city, that they needed to tear down apartment buildings to make room for a play ground. At that time, we paid twenty-eight dollars a month rent. Now remember we were eight kids, and we moved into an old brownstone, half the size of our old apartment.
         The new landlady didn't want us there at first since we were so many and she thought we'd be noisy. After her husband Frank talked her into it saying hey Madeline, come on, I came from a big  family. She took a drag of her cigarette and walked away saying okay Frank, this is yours. Now we were paying eighty-five a month and the city and the playground? That didn't happen for many years later. I bet someone had a padded pocket.
                 I sure missed that old block. On fifty-ninth street, we had a pirate who wore a patch in my building, Zorro across the street, a priest, a nun, some college kids who roomed together, an old fruit wagon with a horse named Dominic, an ice truck, an old woman who sat day after day in her window, the longest hair I ever saw and all she ever did was shake her head yes and no, never spoke. We also had the man across the hall who called his cats every day to feed them loads of cat food. His name was Pete and he called all the kids, you little monkey you, and he was disgusting with a giant beer belly that I thought would explode one day. Pete lived with his Aunt Helen who looked like Albert Einstein, poor old woman. I never saw her in clothes. She wore a long while slip all year long with her white hair standing on end. There was Tony, a kid who loved to build train tracks and his mo with fire red hair, hefty, big bosom like in the old paintings. Somehow she was matched so very well with her husband, a smaller man in stature, half bald, a cigarette every night hanging from one corner of his mouth, carrying a mental lunch pail under one arm as he embraced his curly headed son. I think they were the nicest family on the block, unlike the Gypsy woman, who I won't say much about other than her son punched my best doll's face in and she laughed. That's how bullies are made not born.
                   I can't forget the sounds and smells of the coal trucks, garbage cans filled with ash, the chinese laundry with that smell of freshly laundered shirts, starched so stiff, they could stand alone. We had the best bakeries close to us, Italian and Norwegian, and the greatest butcher shop. Joe, what guy! Then there were the drug store soda fountains. I stopped every Sunday after Church, and in seventh grade sometimes if I was fast enough, once during the week. That was when Mr. Vitalo and I had our first problem.
        

Mr. Potato Head, just another...

toy?  Mr Potato head has been around so long, I feel young. Late this afternoon, a little kid brought his potato head out to play with a guest who stopped by and the challenge began. Each person took a turn to amuse the owner of the Potato in question, and seems this was the best one. Nope I didn't do it. May have felt like this every once in a while, or looked like that after a few too many years ago, but seems like Mr. Potato head is good company for just about anyone.

The Hardest Thing To Do is...

    Ask; asking for anything is hard, but asking because you think you might be pestering people is worse. Asking for someone else is always easier, but always better no matter what if you can do it on your own, without help, without feeling like you owe, because either you do or will owe in time, money or repayment some way, shape or form. No one likes to owe anyone. I don't mind ever helping or ever giving.  This also depends on having a conscience or not. If you can sleep at night knowing you took, took, and took some more, without ever paying it back, your conscience was left behind somewhere.
         It's all about how much can you help or give without messing yourself up. So the bottom line that I have learned and am sticking to, is what I heard on TV the other day. Basically " knowledge used properly" will get you where you need to be. So if you know stuff and just say screw it-that "it" will screw you. So I know Christmas is almost here, and so many wants gifts and a great holiday, but if you have money for your bills, pay them. If you need clothes or your kids need clothes, a doctor visit, or you need tires, take care of that first, you'll sleep better. You and your family might be a little unhappy if your used to having a lot of gifts and/or traveling, but at what cost. This is easy for me to say; to be honest I have done the feel good stuff now, but had to pay the piper later, and that feel good stuff suddenly didn't feel so good...so use your knowledge!
maggieshelpcenter.com   doozybags.com

Dear Mr. Vitalo ch.4

          It was now summer and the sixth grade was almost at a close. Every day after school I had to watch Jimmy, the new baby brother. I put him in his carriage and walked around the school, back and forth and soon I would see Mr. Vitalo coming out with briefcase in hand, on his way home to Levittown Long Island. What a trip to make twice a day ! Sometimes he'd say, see you tomorrow MAC, and other times, he'd just smile and keep walking. I couldn't bear to think summer was almost ere and I wouldn't see him again until September, but I didn't have any idea that Principals worked summers too. Yea for me.
         I spent a summer of talking with neighbor kids, going to the beach with family, having ice tea and trying to stay cool. I loved that block. Fifty-ninth street ha so many great characters, and a few not even near great, but I won't go into that now. I got teased a lot about having a crush on Mr. Vitalo, and then my father asked about him, and would tease in his nasty way about that Italian, except he would use a derogatory word, like greasy so and so. Well little did he know, the more he had bad things to say about people I liked, I just liked them a hundred times more.
     (I have to get back to this tomorrow-sorry)

The Christmas Puppy, NIck

  This little guy turned a year old in November. He's a shih tzu and I named him Nick, thinking we'd have a long time together. I just had him fixed and all his shots, so one nice healthy puppy. Well for reasons I don't want to get into Nick couldn't stay. I wished I could say different, but as it turned out, I put him on Craigslist, and five people immediately answered. I picked the second one, no reason, maybe I just like the number two. The lady told me she lost her female dog recently and was anxious to have a new pup. She wanted to know how he was with kids and cats. Well that depends on the kids and the cats too.
                          I don't have cats, but I did have a young boy, so I could only answer that in a certain way. She came to my home as soon as she could and saw Nick, held him, and I saw Nick too, happy and comfortable as if he was with her already for a long time. She took his crate, food, records and off they went. Nick didn't even say good-bye, yet I knew he was going to be a very happy and loved pup. Merry Christmas Nick.

So what's it to you? sermon

     Earlier today I found myself saying to someone as a joke, yeah? So what's it to you? In the blink of an eye I remembered a sermon I heard some months ago, and I'm sorry to say, I forgot who the Biblical characters were that this was about, but that phrase now, each and every time I use it, takes me back to that sermon, and it  now has a bit of  a different meaning.( I know, even though I can't remember the sermon) I am still more careful how I use it. When I do say it now if to a child I explain it. If I say it to an adult, it simply means, if you can't help, if you can solve the problem or have a suggestion on solving it, then MYOB! Plain and simple. Yet I also am aware some people, some, really want to help, and aren't out to instigate, maybe just want to ask, how about we brainstorm?
    Next time you hear, what's it to you? Have an answer. Don't just butt in where you're not wanted. Oh you don't know when you're not wanted? Here's how you know: when you are used to babysit, cook, run errands, clean, send money, give money-no you're not wanted at these times, you're being used.
 I do know this isn't true each and every time, but more often than not.

           You're wanted when people invite you, but don't sit you in a corner just to be polite, you are wanted when asked to join in a conversation as equal as anyone else who's invited, you are wanted when people in position include you with others in position, when it doesn't matter what you look like, how you dress, how much money you have and are still included. YOU are wanted when as much credit is given to you( even though you may not want credit) as to all those "other" people who are wanted Yeah , we all know how people are treated differently, but shouldn't be, especially by those who tell you, well, I think I treat everyone the same. Yeah?  Think again. 
   

Fort Ham. H.S. Party Brooklyn 6/18

         Hey Brooklynites! Did you attend Ft. Hamilton H.S. between 1958 and 1966? We are having a party! I have already gotten responses. This is happening, but I must have the deposit in three months prior. So the date is June 18th-2011-The Deposit is sixty-five. I have so far called around and "so far" it can't be done decently for 50. p.p.
         We'll have  a D.J., gifts and a lot more. Details will come every Sunday to keep you posted on classmates.com, and if I have time, here too.
          BRING YOU REPORT CARDS!-send me a list via e mail of your favorite song, one per person. Let me know who your buddy was in school, girl or guy. I will do my best to match people up either with old friends or year attended. Bring a list of your teachers, what you remember best. Please only nice comments. Games? Musical chairs? You should be in good fall down shape. Pin the tail on the teacher,
Stick ball, cologne, movie stars, sports, favorite ice cream parlors,
Churches, monkey in the middle, stoop ball, get ready, might have outdoor games the next day. Reserve now at the Hotel Gregory on 4th ave 84st, Brooklyn-free breakfast and maybe I can have them play our favorite music. Later, Nancy

Dear Mr. Vitalo ch. 3

               That was the start of a brand new heart for me, almost a two -sided heart. He notice me. It was also just the first month of school in the sixth grade with Miss Poster.
                       I managed to get through with the help of people like Peggy the cop, and some great neighbors. Peggy as I said before was beautiful. She was a redhead, freckles and the whitest teeth I ever saw as a kid. If she saw a kid looking sad, she'd cheer him or her up. Peggy wasn't just a crossing guard, she was a protector of kids, and anyone who crossed her would get a piece of her redheaded mind. As pretty and soft as she was, Peggy could scare the hell out of someone if she yelled, and that usually came if one of us kids were trying to cross against the light or sneak past Peggy. She wore her navy blue suit so tight, along with what looked like a regular cop hat,  and those spike heels that she stopped traffic way before a red light did. Men on the street would talk about her as long as they could get away with it. What they didn't know was what Peggy looked like without her uniform on as in plain street clothes. I didn't see her like that until two years later.
                     People talked about school and what teachers' their kids had and that's how they learned about Miss Poster and how Mary put Poster in her place. Holidays were coming and kids were excited about Christmas. Sixth grade seemed better too as I got to see Mr. Vitalo just about every day and oh yeah, just about every day he yelled, Mac! and I woud say, yes Mr. Vitalo? in an innocent way, and he'd say, tuck that blouse in ! Yes, Mr. Vitalo  I'd answer again.  I aways walked away feeling important and smiling. Remember that movie where the girl said he had me at hello. For me it was, he had me at, MAC! tuck that blouse in! Yet in some ways I was still skeptical. I found out he was married, had children, was thirty-two years old and then even knew his shirt size.
             Soon we found out our mother was having a baby. Another baby! That would make number eight and please Lord, not another boy. We already had five boys. Miss Poster even got in on that with comments again at Bobby( Mary's son) and I. She would say things like, imagine if you two got married and had a baby. Bobbys 'face turned purple, and me, I just stayed quiet and angry. But this time I wasn't going back to Bobby's mom and saying anything. He had enough just to bear Poster's comments about his good looks every day. He was good looking, but she was our teacher and about forty-three years old.
            February arrives and on the first my baby brother Jimmy was born. I was allowed to give him his middle name which I felt really proud of, but little did I know how my happiness for a baby would change my life. Well that and  a lot more. I started to babysit every day after school and sometimes before. My father told me I had more patience that my sister, and should consider it a compliment. I would rather carry laundry twice a day instead. My mother was home so I never got why I had to do what I was assigned  to do for the next eleven, almost twelve years. Mr. Vitalo even noticed. He didn't miss a thing. He noticed so much that one day he did what I never thought anyone had the guts to do, ever.

This Neat little Mystery Kid

He came again today
 to visit for a while
he is a kid who loves to play
and makes a lot of people smile.

A little impish, and quiet too
 I like to see him play
and when he acts so silly
  It makes it all okay.

 He told the pup to look and smile
       take a picture he said
                                                                      So little Nick jumped up high
                                                                         and then went back to bed.
                                                  
                          Now Mystery kid is quite kool
                          and loves the little dog Nick
                          Their such a pair, two of a kind
                          and both are just as quick.

                                                Now I have to say
                                               Nick is leaving today
                                               Mystery Kid will give a hug
                                           to our little dog-snug on the rug.

                                                  Nick didn't work out here
                                                Too much excitement for him
                                               But if he lived with Mystery kid
                                            every day they would play on a whim!
                                                 

Dear Mr. Vitalo ch.2

          When Mr. Vitalo left Miss Poster's class that day and the second he closed the door, she gave me daggers. As I watched both his brown pin-striped suit disappear out of one eye, I looked at Poster with the other. I think she wanted to strangle me! She was like that. I remember one time she got so mad at a kid named Bobby after she finished embarrassing him, she took him by his face , squeezed his cheeks so hard with one hand, his face reddened more that his usual red face. Poster was always inappropriate with the kids in the way she talked. She would do air kisses to kids, and say things like, smooches, oh you are sooo cute. We were sixth graders! Another time she was mad at bobby, she had him at the blackboard and took his nice dark wavy hair at the front and banged his head against the board. Bobby was such a good kid, polite, handsome, smart and all around a nice person and he grew up the same way. His mom was just like him, so that's who he learned from, but his mom was also very quiet, almost mousy, as I heard adults describe her.
           Mary, Bobby's mom didn't know what was happening in Posters class except that she was a flirt and we would never expect Mary to do much anyway except talk in her nice quiet way, so one day during class, Mary walked in as red faced as her son usually was. Boy were we all surprised! Hands on her hips, walking to Poster, Poster stopped her and said, I beg your pardon, you have to go to the office! We are in class. Oh this was so good to witness. Poster was getting put in her place all over again and by sweet Mary. Quietly Mary said, I am Bobby's mother. Poster smiled, did dumb chit chat and said you will still have to leave. Mary stood her ground, No I am not leaving until I have said what I came to say. Suddenly hand in the air I thought Mary was going to belt Poster, but she was mad, boiling mad and kept talking-if you ever so much as lay a pinkie finger on my son again, I will be back and you will get this, raising her hand again. Poster tried to act huffy saying, I don't know what you're talking about, I never...and Mary asked any kids who saw what Poster did to Bobby to stand up. I stood, and most of the class followed. Mary said again, how would you like me to pull your hair and put you against the blackboard banging your head, and squeeze your face?
            Poster denied it all ever happened saying kids stretch the truth. Just then Mr. Vitalo walked in seeing a strange adult in the class. He quickly stepped in the middle and asked Mary if he could help. She was overcome with emotion and started to tear up, commenting on things happening in Posters class. Mr. Vitalo hugged her, patted her back! My Mr. Vitalo was hugging Bobby's mom! But as I watched a little closer he was giving a gentleman's hug and assuring things will change, that she had his word. He walked her out and turned to Poster, Miss Poster I'll see you in my office after three. She said, Mr. Vitalo, I have things to do. In a swift look he said, if you want to report to school tomorrow, you'll be in my office today. All I can say is, we sure got a lot of homework that day, and I was even more proud of this new guy, this Mr. Vitalo.
             At three o'clock as kids left school, we noticed Poster hesitating as she left her room for Mr. Vitalo's office. A friend of mine and I decided we would run back into school to see if we could hear what Mr. Vitalo was saying to Poster.
Just as we got  to the second floor we were stopped by the office secretary, Mr. Hazel. He was awesome with his bow ties and plaid suits. Quiet plaids, but classy, but still he wore a lot of plaid three piece suits and he smoked a pipe. His name was Mr. Hazel. His suits were usually brown, but a lighter shade and he wore glasses. Mr. Hazel was a very thoughtful man in the way that he answered kids questions. He take his pipe out and say, hm mm let me see. So now here he was asking us where we were going. Both giving a different answer I said the bathroom, and my friend said to see Miss Poster get in trouble. Yes, of course he believed her, but I said I still had to go to the bathroom. He let me pass, and that day, was the start of something new.
            Passing Mr. Vitalo's office I heard him yell, hey MAC! I froze. Did he just call me? Was I in trouble? I didn't do anything, so I kept walking and in two seconds heard another, Hey MAC! It was me he was calling. I backed up slowly, tapped on his glass door, and said, yes Mr. Vitalo? Mr. Vitalo never missed anything I would learn. Then he said it, "tuck in that blouse". Straight-faced I said yes, and left smiling. He noticed.
            

Run To Yourself & Don't Stop...clep

       Do you ever feel as if what you do and who you are doesn't matter? Lots of people feel just like you, and they try to run away from themselves, but all they find in the end is they are still, who they are. Don't try to be someone else. It never works! While people do change through their lifetimes, the you in you will always be there. The YOU is who you see each day in the mirror. Unless you're a criminal, who you are is a very valuable person.
       What ever obstacle you are facing, approach as if you were giving someone else advice, then take it. Have a dream? Make it happen. It might not happen in this moment, most dreams take years to work on to make them come true, but they happen, so don't ever give up!
         Don't stay stuck; Either in a relationship, a job, a town, or even in college as college is expensive, so make it work for you. Did you ever hear of clepping? You can Clep classes for a fraction of the price of a class. Check it out. It would be nice if we could clep ourselves, a short trip to finishing a  class, but the trip of LIFE's up's and down's prove worth it as you near the middle. Experience is the best teacher if you're getting a lesson you take and learn from. Now put your jogging sneakers on and run to your self. You're worth the jog!

T&T=TRUCKERS & TRUMP

Maggieshelpcenter.com

 Okay TRUCKERS and TRUMP= T&T- LET's ROLL in between any funeral that westboro baptist(no caps for them) tries to insult. Let's run good old football interference!
Head em' up! Move em' out! Yes, I know, that's a cowboy saying, so...

W.B. Christian? TRUCKERS LINE UP!

       First it appears to be an oxymoron to call them selves Baptist Christians. Is this really a way True Christians would behave? In my opinion, definitely not! These are people who somehow feel superior and able to Judge in place of God, in my opinion of course, maybe even some kind of a cult, who knows? So from now TRUCKERS ALLIANCE! Let's go TRUCKERS. Let's stop these ninnies in their tracks. I am a solution person, except when it comes to me-smile.

            So this is serious stuff. It wasn't bad enough that they picketed a soldiers funeral who died so that they have rights do do what they did, but that they continue this asinine behavior. I don't care what their trumped up reasoning is; If this is truly because of the reasons they stated, why didn't they have the courage to approach her while she was alive and ask for an interview? NO, they cowardly do this while people are grieving. TELL westboro baptist to go to Little Italy in NEW YORK, tell them to go to SHEEPSHEAD BAY, BENSONHURST and see how far they get-THEY ARE COWARDS! Okay TRUCKERS LINE UP between the funeral procession and those Christian imitators!  START YOUR ENGINES!

Dear Mr. Vitalo.....

    
                                                         Ch1
          I was ten years old when I first saw him, and he was twenty years older than me. I was late for school, and one of my family jobs was to take the laundry before school. We lived in an apartment building in Brooklyn N.Y. on fifty-ninth street just below the school and here I was right before school with a disgusting old bag on my back. It was smelly, sagging, wet and stained and very heavy. I had six brothers, oh almost. One was on the way to make eight kids total. So with five big brothers, ya think one of those big husky boys could take it? Noooo, and there I was with that  big awful muslin bag, on the corner waiting for the light to change.

There stood Peggy the cop in her beautiful uniform, straight, and tall, and in charge. Traffic stopped just to talk to Peggy. I'll tell you more about her later.
           Hunched over, and heaving the bag up higher I heard a bell ring, two more bells and I would be late. My father didn't stand for us kids getting in trouble in school for any reason and that's what I was thinking about when that burdensome bag was suddenly lifted form my shoulder. One hand picking it up in the air, and telling me, hey kid, get to school, get smart! I looked up and saw him. I stood so still afraid to move he was so handsome and nice. He picked that smelly bag, that wet disgusting thing off my shoulder and asked if it went to the laundry across the street. He wore a brown pin-striped suit that I would come to know so well. Still standing close to him, he said a bit more sharply, get to school and I ran. Just as I almost got in the building he yelled, who's your teacher? Miss Poster! I yelled back.
         So that was the guy, the one everyone was talking about, the new young principal all the girls had crushes on, except me of course. It wasn't long before he walked into Miss Posters' class. He stood looking around and she walked over to him smiling like a , well you know that kind of woman. The kind I wished I was just then. Yeah, I was just a kid. Poster had flair, but she was so obvious with her bright red every day lipstick to match her long red nails, and she wore a scarf around her neck, thick mascara, and frosted hair. She also wore spike  heels  and smelled like a perfume factory. I was looking at him as he looked around, and Poster went over gushing at him. Grr, I thought, leave him alone, you go after all of them. He sure was handsome, but I didn't feel a crush, not yet anyway. Then it happened.
          Poster put her hand inside his jacket and asked, Can I do something for you Mr. Vitalo? Yes, that was him, Mr. Vitalo, the new Principal! He quickly and firmly took her hand off him, and said no thank you, I see who I came to see. He walked right to me, laundry ticket in hand and said, it will be ready at three.  He started to walk out and stopped, turned around, and said, hey kid? What's your name? I told him and from then on he just called me Mac. It is was seeing him treat her differently than the other male teachers that started a slow change in me about him. If we could only look ahead.
     

VALUE it or LOSE it, so says Jeremy Pearsons

A few days ago, again a little boredom, I came upon the last few minutes of some young guy talking, not yelling preaching, but sounded more like he was teaching and explaining and he made sense. His name was Jeremy Pearsons, and he is I think, a minister following in family foot-steps.
            Now I wasn't paying much attention until he said"if you don't value what you have you will lose it". I thought about that as he repeated it in a few different ways. I guess if someone wasn't listening enough, he may have hoped they would catch on. I really thought about that more and more as each day passes. We know he isn't talking about people who lose their homes to a fire, lose possessions to a thief, lose their health due to illness. Most of those things we can't help as they can come on like gangbusters without warning, like a thief will call you up and say, hey, I'll be over tonight to rob you so don't worry, it's just me.
        I have taken what he said and am now putting it into a working, every day theme to do better, and to hold onto what I have. I don't forget my donations as I do feel that's as important as "stuff" I own. Stuff, those little things, we can do without.
So if you know anyone in need help them, but think about how you will help and how it affects you too and your family. I wish I heard that years ago, or maybe I did but was too stubborn to think it meant anything. By the way, Jeremy Pearsons is the grandson of Kenneth Copeland from Believers Voice of Victory, who for me is just too much, enough said. I like preachers who are teachers, and don't like copy cats, like people doing a Charles Stanley version of "now watch this". Charles Stanley is a very good teacher, so in closing VALUE WHO IS IN YOUR LIFE, and then value what you own. Happy Thursday people!