Well after Sandy and I finished talking to Mr. Korsun about Mr. Vitalo we stated talking about how it felt to be in the eighth grade, well for me. sandy started Bay Ridge High. I was anxiously waiting for winter and Christmas which meant new clothes and a Christmas party at Zion with the Norwegian ladies. Those ladies made sure big families like mine had all the winter clothes we needed. This year was more important to me for that than I can ever remember. Why? Because of Mr. Vitalo!
The ladies came to the house as they did every year, wearing big hats and coats with fur collars and long gloves. Sitting down having coffee with my mother they asked sizes, made comments about how fast we were all growing. That took a lot of work, sizes, food, shoes certificates. They did it all. So Christmas came and most of us went to the party except those kids who thought they were better than that, meaning my sister and a few brother and the parents of course, but never too proud to ask, or wear new clothes, or new shoes, and eat all the food they gave us.
Me, I loved going, mainly because I got to hang out with Bette Lou, see Pastor Don, and sing. That church, I loved my church. With a giant tree we all sang around it, in Zion's basement, with big over sized glass stained windows.
There were many bags of groceries to bring home, and shortly before leaving one of the ladies came to me and in her Norwegian accent asked, Nancy? You graduate this year, yah? I answered maybe, knowing how bad I was in math and we had to make our own graduation dress. I ripped a lot of stitches in sewing class.
Off we went home, and had a great Christmas. Then I opened a box. My best gift almost ever. It was a blue suit. All I thought about was, wait until Mr. Vitalo sees me in this. Boy was I dumb! But this wasn't just any blue suit. It was a blue plaid hip-pleated skirt with a white leather vest and the same wool blue plaid trim to match. WOW! I wore it the first day back to school, and never got to see Mr. V. once. I was told he was still on vacation. After school, I hung up my suit carefully with my white pleated cotton blouse. I had to be so careful putting it in the closet. It was so small and i had to share it with my sister and mother who seemed to have a million dollars worth of clothes. I hung it in the back. Even if it was squashed, at least it wouldn't get knocked off the hangar and lay in a heap.
Days and days passed, and finally I heard that soothing, hey Mac! At last, back to normal. I Mr. Vitalo I shouted. He said so Mac how was Christmas? As I'm telling him, he pats my shoulder, says great, sorry I have to go, now get to class. I was on cloud nine and now knew I could wear my new suit tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes and I'm looking, walking past his office and after lunch see Mr. Hazel the secretary. Mr. Hazel, where's Mr. Vitalo? Oh he went to another school today to observe. WHAT! WHY? Is he leaving? No, no, no, no, he's helping.
Again I hang my suit up in the back of the closet. i took the plastic off my mothers dress and covered my white leather vest.
Wednesday and I run to school to make sure he's there. He was. My heart smiled as long as the country is wide. Now I had to plan on next week and wearing that suit. But before that all that the girls were called in to make sure they were well informed about making their graduations dresses, and math was on schedule. I knew I was way behind, so I barely said I was doing okay. That day was a bummer. I not only wasn't ready, I didn't want to be ready.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
When The Pilot Pees, Who is Flying ...
I just read about an India Airline pilot leaving his seat to use the bathroom and the plane plummeting 7000, that is seven thousand feet! Okay so not an every day occurrence, but it happens. You have to pee so what do you do if you are a pilot in charge of getting people to their destinations safely? I don't ever remember seeing a pilot leaving the cockpit, but...now that I think about it, there is a curtain between them and the passengers. So maybe the flight attendant pulls the curtain and then the pilot comes out and uses his bathroom.
Imagine if we all saw him leave the cockpit, magazine in hand and retreat to a back bathroom for oh say, twenty minutes? Then what? What do we do or what should we do or say? As we've been taught by society to simply sit quiet, behave and MYOB...heck no! Ask, and ask again until you get an appropriate answer, and better yet, ask those questions before you fly. If you're told that there is always auto pilot as well as a co-pilot, well then ask, do they other flights in the air know that? Who do you trust with your life?
Make sure to take out a lot of life insurance. See if you do, and God forbid you die, the insurance companies have to pay out. When that happens, you better believe it, someone will make sure, as sure as they can when insurance companies pay out and hate to do so, that this accident won't repeat itself. Well duh, of course it won't, but you know what I mean, right?
Imagine if we all saw him leave the cockpit, magazine in hand and retreat to a back bathroom for oh say, twenty minutes? Then what? What do we do or what should we do or say? As we've been taught by society to simply sit quiet, behave and MYOB...heck no! Ask, and ask again until you get an appropriate answer, and better yet, ask those questions before you fly. If you're told that there is always auto pilot as well as a co-pilot, well then ask, do they other flights in the air know that? Who do you trust with your life?
Make sure to take out a lot of life insurance. See if you do, and God forbid you die, the insurance companies have to pay out. When that happens, you better believe it, someone will make sure, as sure as they can when insurance companies pay out and hate to do so, that this accident won't repeat itself. Well duh, of course it won't, but you know what I mean, right?
Dear Mr. Vitalo ch10, part one
Dear Mr. Vitalo
I'm sitting here as I write and I'm listening to Barbara Mandrell sing, After All These Years. Yeah a heart breaker for sure, but I could see you listening to it and examining the words and asking questions. "Another day is gone, I turn around and find you're still not here". You would ask, what does that mean Mac? But I know you would know, but you'd want to hear it from me, from anyone , any kids who misses you as I do. I replay it over and over again as I remember that fading picture of you watering your garden when Mr. Korsun took me and two friends to visit you in Long Island. "I still see your face as if it was yesterday" (Barbara Mandrell) and I was just entering the eighth grade, and we both know how that ended. Boy, maybe it's not such a good idea to listen to this stuff, but this was/is good music and I know Mr. Vitalo you'd like it too, if for one thing only; A person can understand the words.
Next song, I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool, ahh sing it Barbara. My favorite part is when George Jones joins in, walking out on stage from her left side, singing as only ol George can, " Hey! I was country, when country wasn't cool, yeah I was country from my hat down to my boots"! They were the best ever in country music and we talked about that at times, remember?
So there I was walking into P.S. 140, corner of fifty-ninth and fourth ave. This time I met up with Bette Lou my other best friend who now seemed far away since I moved to fifty-sixth street. She lived across the street from the school. It used to be so cool when I lived down the block from school, knowing you were just a few accidental steps away if I went for a walk. You know how that goes. Oh hi Mr. Vitalo, I'd say, I didn't know you were still here, but secretly hoping all the time. Bette Lou would laugh every time and ask, hey Nance, doin' one of those, oh hi things? I'd grin and she'd know. Now here we were together, and I had new clothes on. We always had new clothes for school, Spring and Winter. It was my winter clothes that I couldn't wait to buy, but for now, I'd have to settle on this horrible and humid summer stuff.
I never did good in the summer months unless we were at the beach. Then I was like a dolphin, yup I sure was. It was almost impossible to get me out of the water. September brought temperatures as high as any day in August and my long hair would stick to my neck, my pitts showing perspiration, so I was very careful to wear certain colors in my blouses. With eight kids in the family deodorant wasn't very accessible. So now eighth grade and my home-room teacher, Miss McNulty was anxious for me to arrive. Nothing that day mattered as long as I got to see Mr. Vitalo and I didn't see him as I walked in that day, so I started out moody. I did realize it was the first day, but where was he I thought. Eleven-thirty came and I was back in my home-room class, settled and knowing it was almost time to go home for lunch. Eleven-forty, and the back door opens. I see McNulty smile and some kids turned around. I didn't dare. She had it in for me because of my brother. So I kept sitting, looking and staring ahead, waiting for the lunch bell.
All of a sudden a felt a very firm hand and finger impression on my right shoulder and a squeeze with it, then his voice, so Mac how ya doing this first day? I snapped my head looking up, thought I broke it! I was above Heaven looking into his brown eyes surrounded by his glasses. I knew my face was beet red, and he brought it to the attention of everyone. Kids were laughing out loud, as I was so astounded by not just his hand on my shoulder, but he was talking to me with, our name". He called me Mac! But now he only said hey Mac, I didn't mean to embarrass you, now sit up and get ready for lunch, but first answer me. Wha...huh? He repeated, how is this first day for you? All I could mumble was, uh okay.
Then the bell sounded, lunch and air! We were on the third floor and I ran as fast as I could from school almost knocking over poor Mrs. Wheeler, a very tiny teacher who taught gym of all things, but as tough as Judge Judy. I shouted an apology as I steadied her and kept going. Out the door, outside, air and now I could breathe. No one was around who I could tell. I was a mass of jittery nerves inside, and had to get through the day until I saw Sandy. Three o'clock comes and now the first day is over. I ran home, changed , had to take Jimmy out, so got him dressed and we walked up the block to Sandys'. I rang her bell, and her mom opened the window in their third floor Brownstone apartment, saying Nancy, Sandy is doing her homework. Okay Mrs. W.......... She went on with, she'll be down soon with Judy. Judy, Sandy's little sister and my brother Jimmy didn't allow us much privacy. I'm still holding all this Mr. Vitalo attention in and about to have a breakdown.
I'm outside with Jimmy whining, why can't we go to Mr. Korsuns' house? We will Jimmy, just wait a little, Sandy is coming down with Judy, I told him. He was such a spoiled brat. Then Sandy's old oak wooden door opens from the second floor. Her mom stood there reminding Sandy of rules and stuff. Sandy is polite, looks at me, grins, says hiya Nance. Hiya San, and she starts off tell me about High School, then asks me if i saw Mr. V. I tell her Sandy we have to move away from your house, let's walk to the corner. Jimmy starts whining, and Judy starts with Sandra, mom said...and both Sandy and I say at the same time to our respective little charges, will you shut up for a little while, we're going to the corner, the to visit Mr. Korsun. As we neared the corner, we saw the empty drive-way and a great big stoop to an abandoned building.
In the drive-way I yelled and jumped at the same time, Sandy he came in my class and grabbed my shoulder!!! He called me Mac in front of everyone! Sandy was just as happy for me as I was for me. I gave her all the details as she asked in between all the, but did he say, but did he, but why, but, but, but and more buts. My speech was all messed up, but thank God I got it all out, finally! I thought I'd have to be taken away in an ambulance soon if I didn't get it out. We talked more about school, and the changes Sandy now had to face with High School, an all girls school, poor thing. The little kids waited patiently, so we told them tomorrow we'll ask if we can take them to the donut shop after school, and off we went to see Mr. Korsun. He sat on his stoop smoking, and as we neared, Sandy yelled, hey Mr. Korsun ?, wait til' you hear what happened today.
I'm sitting here as I write and I'm listening to Barbara Mandrell sing, After All These Years. Yeah a heart breaker for sure, but I could see you listening to it and examining the words and asking questions. "Another day is gone, I turn around and find you're still not here". You would ask, what does that mean Mac? But I know you would know, but you'd want to hear it from me, from anyone , any kids who misses you as I do. I replay it over and over again as I remember that fading picture of you watering your garden when Mr. Korsun took me and two friends to visit you in Long Island. "I still see your face as if it was yesterday" (Barbara Mandrell) and I was just entering the eighth grade, and we both know how that ended. Boy, maybe it's not such a good idea to listen to this stuff, but this was/is good music and I know Mr. Vitalo you'd like it too, if for one thing only; A person can understand the words.
Next song, I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool, ahh sing it Barbara. My favorite part is when George Jones joins in, walking out on stage from her left side, singing as only ol George can, " Hey! I was country, when country wasn't cool, yeah I was country from my hat down to my boots"! They were the best ever in country music and we talked about that at times, remember?
So there I was walking into P.S. 140, corner of fifty-ninth and fourth ave. This time I met up with Bette Lou my other best friend who now seemed far away since I moved to fifty-sixth street. She lived across the street from the school. It used to be so cool when I lived down the block from school, knowing you were just a few accidental steps away if I went for a walk. You know how that goes. Oh hi Mr. Vitalo, I'd say, I didn't know you were still here, but secretly hoping all the time. Bette Lou would laugh every time and ask, hey Nance, doin' one of those, oh hi things? I'd grin and she'd know. Now here we were together, and I had new clothes on. We always had new clothes for school, Spring and Winter. It was my winter clothes that I couldn't wait to buy, but for now, I'd have to settle on this horrible and humid summer stuff.
I never did good in the summer months unless we were at the beach. Then I was like a dolphin, yup I sure was. It was almost impossible to get me out of the water. September brought temperatures as high as any day in August and my long hair would stick to my neck, my pitts showing perspiration, so I was very careful to wear certain colors in my blouses. With eight kids in the family deodorant wasn't very accessible. So now eighth grade and my home-room teacher, Miss McNulty was anxious for me to arrive. Nothing that day mattered as long as I got to see Mr. Vitalo and I didn't see him as I walked in that day, so I started out moody. I did realize it was the first day, but where was he I thought. Eleven-thirty came and I was back in my home-room class, settled and knowing it was almost time to go home for lunch. Eleven-forty, and the back door opens. I see McNulty smile and some kids turned around. I didn't dare. She had it in for me because of my brother. So I kept sitting, looking and staring ahead, waiting for the lunch bell.
All of a sudden a felt a very firm hand and finger impression on my right shoulder and a squeeze with it, then his voice, so Mac how ya doing this first day? I snapped my head looking up, thought I broke it! I was above Heaven looking into his brown eyes surrounded by his glasses. I knew my face was beet red, and he brought it to the attention of everyone. Kids were laughing out loud, as I was so astounded by not just his hand on my shoulder, but he was talking to me with, our name". He called me Mac! But now he only said hey Mac, I didn't mean to embarrass you, now sit up and get ready for lunch, but first answer me. Wha...huh? He repeated, how is this first day for you? All I could mumble was, uh okay.
Then the bell sounded, lunch and air! We were on the third floor and I ran as fast as I could from school almost knocking over poor Mrs. Wheeler, a very tiny teacher who taught gym of all things, but as tough as Judge Judy. I shouted an apology as I steadied her and kept going. Out the door, outside, air and now I could breathe. No one was around who I could tell. I was a mass of jittery nerves inside, and had to get through the day until I saw Sandy. Three o'clock comes and now the first day is over. I ran home, changed , had to take Jimmy out, so got him dressed and we walked up the block to Sandys'. I rang her bell, and her mom opened the window in their third floor Brownstone apartment, saying Nancy, Sandy is doing her homework. Okay Mrs. W.......... She went on with, she'll be down soon with Judy. Judy, Sandy's little sister and my brother Jimmy didn't allow us much privacy. I'm still holding all this Mr. Vitalo attention in and about to have a breakdown.
I'm outside with Jimmy whining, why can't we go to Mr. Korsuns' house? We will Jimmy, just wait a little, Sandy is coming down with Judy, I told him. He was such a spoiled brat. Then Sandy's old oak wooden door opens from the second floor. Her mom stood there reminding Sandy of rules and stuff. Sandy is polite, looks at me, grins, says hiya Nance. Hiya San, and she starts off tell me about High School, then asks me if i saw Mr. V. I tell her Sandy we have to move away from your house, let's walk to the corner. Jimmy starts whining, and Judy starts with Sandra, mom said...and both Sandy and I say at the same time to our respective little charges, will you shut up for a little while, we're going to the corner, the to visit Mr. Korsun. As we neared the corner, we saw the empty drive-way and a great big stoop to an abandoned building.
In the drive-way I yelled and jumped at the same time, Sandy he came in my class and grabbed my shoulder!!! He called me Mac in front of everyone! Sandy was just as happy for me as I was for me. I gave her all the details as she asked in between all the, but did he say, but did he, but why, but, but, but and more buts. My speech was all messed up, but thank God I got it all out, finally! I thought I'd have to be taken away in an ambulance soon if I didn't get it out. We talked more about school, and the changes Sandy now had to face with High School, an all girls school, poor thing. The little kids waited patiently, so we told them tomorrow we'll ask if we can take them to the donut shop after school, and off we went to see Mr. Korsun. He sat on his stoop smoking, and as we neared, Sandy yelled, hey Mr. Korsun ?, wait til' you hear what happened today.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The Secret Door
The Secret Door
There was a secret window attached to a wall
It had a secret door attached to a secret floor.
This house was mine or maybe it was yours
A very secret house, with whispering secret floors.
Creaking could be heard day in and day out
But mostly it was heard when no one was about.
How could it be I know you think when no one was about
But then again I wonder who came in and out.
a whispering voice could be heard under the secret door
if you lay still enough, you could hear so much more.
Quiet and still like you were dead an ear pressed so still
by the door so secret, the secrets gave a chill.
Still I wonder when time to sleep what was it that I heard
The sounds of children or adults or maybe a little bird.
I never heard the sound so clear that it would be
a definite story of secrets to pass from you to me.
Or maybe I did but cannot tell because secrets like gossip be
only as Honorable as the secrets with people like you and me.
More so now I can say what I saw the other day
I watched a movie it can be told in only one true way.
It told of gossip out of hand and how it flees the truth about
The movie left an impression, namely it was called "Doubt"
The priest recounted a story, how once gossip once you choose
if you cut a pillow in half, feathers fly, uncaptured, set loose.
There was a secret house, which had a secret door
and I hope to live enough to know secrets no more.
For when a secret passes, a secret it is never again
so keep it always to yourself, and that will be the end.
There was a secret window attached to a wall
It had a secret door attached to a secret floor.
This house was mine or maybe it was yours
A very secret house, with whispering secret floors.
Creaking could be heard day in and day out
But mostly it was heard when no one was about.
How could it be I know you think when no one was about
But then again I wonder who came in and out.
a whispering voice could be heard under the secret door
if you lay still enough, you could hear so much more.
Quiet and still like you were dead an ear pressed so still
by the door so secret, the secrets gave a chill.
Still I wonder when time to sleep what was it that I heard
The sounds of children or adults or maybe a little bird.
I never heard the sound so clear that it would be
a definite story of secrets to pass from you to me.
Or maybe I did but cannot tell because secrets like gossip be
only as Honorable as the secrets with people like you and me.
More so now I can say what I saw the other day
I watched a movie it can be told in only one true way.
It told of gossip out of hand and how it flees the truth about
The movie left an impression, namely it was called "Doubt"
The priest recounted a story, how once gossip once you choose
if you cut a pillow in half, feathers fly, uncaptured, set loose.
There was a secret house, which had a secret door
and I hope to live enough to know secrets no more.
For when a secret passes, a secret it is never again
so keep it always to yourself, and that will be the end.
Editing on this blog is a pain
I love blogging, writing and more along that line, but to try to edit is impossible at time. For example, when mis-spelled words pop up highlighted, the word corrector, not only corrects but adds a letter to it. Such as thosee on my last blog about scraps. To make correction many other forms of the word isn't available so you have to hit "ignore" then retype. At that point, it ads another letter. Trying to simply go back isn't as easy as hitting a green arrow, so It's not me, it's them.
What we can do with scraps!
Build a bridge? Sure if you're a kid. Possibly an adult also who is creative in his or her thinking. Remember, an idle mind is the devil's playground! Mine has been idle overtime, but at this stage in my life I don't need the devil. So back to scraps. I am guilty of wasting, but no more, and I will gladly take suggestions on what to do with my wood scraps. I do know one thing, but that I have to keep quiet for now, and those who know me probably know what I'll use them for, but I am really open to ideas. Later, Time for supper, and movies. Since the antenna or what ever crashed I am glad to not have regular television and no I won't pay for cable. I bet I get a lot done in many ways. Thank ya Jesus! After all, it's thosee things in life that go wrong that have a purpose-but I don't believe that of everything. Hey maybe this was my invisible New Years gift to me. Ahh, never mind, I got that yesterday from someone who walked across the field. Tonight's movie, Stolen Summer.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
ch 9 Mr. V Meets Mr. K
Dear Mr. Vitalo
I know you never knew, at least I don't think you ever knew how much you meant to me. I'm sure you meant a lot to a lot of kids, yet I choose to think they were invisible most of the time. That's the way you made me feel. If there was kid in your office, or kids outside the school, and I was passing, I always felt like they were furniture, or like they just didn't belong in this picture.
Mr. Korsun Meets Mr. Vitalo
It was my seventh grade summer and I missed you so much. My friend Mr. Korsun lived up the street. Even though I was a kid he was my friend and I knew with him as with you if I had to tell my worst secret, he like you could be trusted to do whatever had to be done, keeping my safety in mind. I talked about you so much and sometimes he, Mr. Korsun would do a fake giggle when I'd blush, and act as if he wore a skirt. He would come down off the stoop, walk with knees knocking together on tip-toe, put his hands in the air, and say, oh Mr. Vitalo, you are so nice, in a high pitched voice. He was a truck driver, so picture that. We'd all laugh. By we, I mean his daughter Karen was there and my friend Sandy. I envied Karen as I'd see her walk to her dad, say hi Daddy, kiss his cheek, and he'd ask how her day went, and tell her okay Karen, now go on in and start your homework or say hello to...who ever was there. Sometimes Melvin would come downstairs. Melvin, a relative who lived upstairs in this private Brownstone. I even had a tiny crush on him and when he got married, I didn't like his wife too much, but that didn't last long. All I really cared about was a few fifty-sixth st. people, mainly Sandy, Mr. Korsun, the twins across the street, and my landlord and landlady.
His daughter Karen was very pretty with dark hair, darker than mine, had such a nice smile, great teeth, and walked so dainty, unlike me. I walked like my brothers, still do, but screw it. Who cares anymore? I used to wish sometimes I was Karen. I thought with a dad like she had she had to be more happy than me.
One summer day I walked up the street and Mr. Korsun was home from work, maybe a day off, and he said hey Kiddo, what's with the long face? He took a long drag from his cigarette and I watched the smoke swirl up and about his mustache as his eyes grew curious and concerned. Through his glasses, he looked so serious, and again asked what was wrong. But the second time, he did one of those finger things? He put his pointy finger in a come here you way...so I got closer and he asked, so what's with that face? I still didn't answer and he then recited part of a poem, there was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her fore head-when she was good she was very very good, but when she was bad, wasn't that always. My Response? Huh. He burst out laughing with a smoker's laugh, but his husky body shook with happiness for making me simply say, huh.
Then I told him, I miss Mr. Vitalo. Mr. Korsun asked me where he lived and I said 224-----Levittown LI -The next words that came from Mr. Korsun's mouth floored me. He said well, why don't we go see this this great Mr. Vitalo. When he said great Mr. Vitalo, he was smiling but I knew he meant it. My heart jumped, skipped, went to my feet and back up again. Really Mr Korsun? But my father won't let me go, I know he won't. Another amazing few words from Mr. Korsun as he said, well, I'll ask him and I bet he'll say yes. My eyes got as big as my face. No, he can't ask my father, that would be even worse.
I tried to explain to Mr. Korsun why he couldn't ask my father, and he stood next to me cigarette as usual between his two right fingers,and said, now listen to me young lady. This is what we'll do. He did that a lot with the young lady listen to me stuff. I listened. Mr. Korsun said, I know people just like your father and I know he doesn't want me to talk to him, the bigger they are, the harder that fall so here's what you do...I smiled with a beating and now pounding heart thinking this could really happen. Mr. Korsun said, young lady, wait until dad is in a good mood, when the kids are quiet and when mom is around and tell him Mr. Korsun wants to come down and ask about taking you, Sandra and Karen to Long Island on Saturday for a ride, maybe stop for ice cream or lunch. Just do that first then come tell me, Mr. Korsun said.
It was mid-week before I got to talk to Mr. Korsun again about our talk. I walked to him, a grim face. Mr. Korsun said, so what's up kiddo, the ol' man say no? I looked as sad as I could, and then spread a mile wide grin, yelling, Mr. Korsun he said yes, but no ice cream! Mr. Korsun put his hand out to shake my hand and then said now we have to get Sandra's parents to agree and at that moment her parents came down the street with Sandy and her little sister Judy.
Mr. Korsun greeted them both and asked if he could talk to them a minute. They agreed and her father said, but only a minute, my wife has supper waiting. Mr. Korsun asked me to walk away while grown-ups talked. I never knew what was said, tried to peek at smiles or mad faces, any sign of yes or no, but I couldn't tell anything until they walked down the street. I saw Mr. Korsun give a slight nod, and he sat down again on the stoop. I guessed Sandy wasn't going. Her father was pretty strict.
I went to the stoop and asked, so Mr. Korsun is it just you, me and Karen Saturday. He looked that serious eyebrow look at me and said, why, you don't want Sandra along? That guy, I'm telling ya, that Mr. Korsun was something. They approved. I was in Heaven. Three more days, I would be with people who cared and I would see Mr. Vitalo and had one person to thank, Mr. Korsun.
Saturday at ten sharp I was waiting by Mr. Korsun's red and black Rambler convertible. Then Sandy walked up and next thing I heard was the door opening from Mr. Korsun's house. He said good morning young ladies, as he switched his newspaper from his hand to under his left arm, smiling and grabbing his ignition key. I sat in the back with Sandy and as we started to pull out from the parking spot, Mr. Korsun turned to me and asked, are you sure you want to go? My heart stopped and I said nothing for one whole second then, what?
Mr. Korsun are you joking with me? No, I was so anxious, he had to be kidding I thought to myself. There it was again, his husky smokers laugh. We got on the belt parkway and Mr. Korsun asked if we wanted to stop for ice cream. I felt afraid for a minute, then said I can't Mr. Korsun, my father said...and he interrupted with I know you can't have ice cream, but you can have custard(which tasted just like ice-cream) or sherbert and this stays with us who are in the car okay? Sandy laughed a big laugh and Karen smiled at her dad. It felt good having a good secret with good people.We stopped at a Carvels just before we wold arrive at Mr. Vitalo's.
Finally we arrived and just before Mr. Vitalo's house as we were watching the house numbers in this nice suburban area, Mr. Korsun turned and again asked me if I was sure I wanted to go ahead. I would have gotten out and pushed if that car didn't move again, but as usual Mr. Korsun was just teasing.
Then I saw him. He stood with his back to the street watering his garden. Mr. Vitalo, a school Principal was watering his garden! The car stopped outside of the little white picket fence with vegetables growing. Mr. Vitalo had on a light colored plaid button down shirt and madras plaid Bermuda shorts with sandals. He turned as we stopped and looked just like a guy about to answer a stranger who was traveling for directions, until he saw me and Sandy in the back seat.
Mr. Korsun stepped outside and said you must be Mr. Vitalo. I could feel my face heat up. Oh no , please Mr. Korsun I thought don't tell him, don't tell him how I feel. Mr. Korsun introduced himself , and both men reached out at the same time to shake hands, and with such a natural way, Mr. Korsun told Mr. Vitalo how we were just all out for a Saturday drive to the Island when someone said something about Mr. Vitalo living out here, so here we are passing through. They talked some small talk, about the garden and I, well I was watching Mr. Vitalo' legs, feet, hands, smile, his eyes and listening to how the two men who were both important to me in different ways were so much alike. Mr. Vitalo asked how we were enjoying the summer so far, asked Karen where she went to school and then said he had to get back to his garden. The kindness was immeasurable. To this day it overwhelms me. Finally Mr. Vitalo said again after another lapse in small talk, well everyone, I have to get back to my garden or my wife won't give me lunch. Mr. Korsun reached out his hand again, thanked Mr. Vitalo for his time, and apologized for any intrusion.
After stretching on the sidewalk we all hopped back in the car, yelling bye Mr. Vitalo, bye, see ya in September. He waved and smiled. I watched him as he faded into the distance with a memory that I would remain engraved forever on my heart.
Thank you Mr. Korsun
I know you never knew, at least I don't think you ever knew how much you meant to me. I'm sure you meant a lot to a lot of kids, yet I choose to think they were invisible most of the time. That's the way you made me feel. If there was kid in your office, or kids outside the school, and I was passing, I always felt like they were furniture, or like they just didn't belong in this picture.
Mr. Korsun Meets Mr. Vitalo
It was my seventh grade summer and I missed you so much. My friend Mr. Korsun lived up the street. Even though I was a kid he was my friend and I knew with him as with you if I had to tell my worst secret, he like you could be trusted to do whatever had to be done, keeping my safety in mind. I talked about you so much and sometimes he, Mr. Korsun would do a fake giggle when I'd blush, and act as if he wore a skirt. He would come down off the stoop, walk with knees knocking together on tip-toe, put his hands in the air, and say, oh Mr. Vitalo, you are so nice, in a high pitched voice. He was a truck driver, so picture that. We'd all laugh. By we, I mean his daughter Karen was there and my friend Sandy. I envied Karen as I'd see her walk to her dad, say hi Daddy, kiss his cheek, and he'd ask how her day went, and tell her okay Karen, now go on in and start your homework or say hello to...who ever was there. Sometimes Melvin would come downstairs. Melvin, a relative who lived upstairs in this private Brownstone. I even had a tiny crush on him and when he got married, I didn't like his wife too much, but that didn't last long. All I really cared about was a few fifty-sixth st. people, mainly Sandy, Mr. Korsun, the twins across the street, and my landlord and landlady.
His daughter Karen was very pretty with dark hair, darker than mine, had such a nice smile, great teeth, and walked so dainty, unlike me. I walked like my brothers, still do, but screw it. Who cares anymore? I used to wish sometimes I was Karen. I thought with a dad like she had she had to be more happy than me.
One summer day I walked up the street and Mr. Korsun was home from work, maybe a day off, and he said hey Kiddo, what's with the long face? He took a long drag from his cigarette and I watched the smoke swirl up and about his mustache as his eyes grew curious and concerned. Through his glasses, he looked so serious, and again asked what was wrong. But the second time, he did one of those finger things? He put his pointy finger in a come here you way...so I got closer and he asked, so what's with that face? I still didn't answer and he then recited part of a poem, there was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her fore head-when she was good she was very very good, but when she was bad, wasn't that always. My Response? Huh. He burst out laughing with a smoker's laugh, but his husky body shook with happiness for making me simply say, huh.
Then I told him, I miss Mr. Vitalo. Mr. Korsun asked me where he lived and I said 224-----Levittown LI -The next words that came from Mr. Korsun's mouth floored me. He said well, why don't we go see this this great Mr. Vitalo. When he said great Mr. Vitalo, he was smiling but I knew he meant it. My heart jumped, skipped, went to my feet and back up again. Really Mr Korsun? But my father won't let me go, I know he won't. Another amazing few words from Mr. Korsun as he said, well, I'll ask him and I bet he'll say yes. My eyes got as big as my face. No, he can't ask my father, that would be even worse.
I tried to explain to Mr. Korsun why he couldn't ask my father, and he stood next to me cigarette as usual between his two right fingers,and said, now listen to me young lady. This is what we'll do. He did that a lot with the young lady listen to me stuff. I listened. Mr. Korsun said, I know people just like your father and I know he doesn't want me to talk to him, the bigger they are, the harder that fall so here's what you do...I smiled with a beating and now pounding heart thinking this could really happen. Mr. Korsun said, young lady, wait until dad is in a good mood, when the kids are quiet and when mom is around and tell him Mr. Korsun wants to come down and ask about taking you, Sandra and Karen to Long Island on Saturday for a ride, maybe stop for ice cream or lunch. Just do that first then come tell me, Mr. Korsun said.
It was mid-week before I got to talk to Mr. Korsun again about our talk. I walked to him, a grim face. Mr. Korsun said, so what's up kiddo, the ol' man say no? I looked as sad as I could, and then spread a mile wide grin, yelling, Mr. Korsun he said yes, but no ice cream! Mr. Korsun put his hand out to shake my hand and then said now we have to get Sandra's parents to agree and at that moment her parents came down the street with Sandy and her little sister Judy.
Mr. Korsun greeted them both and asked if he could talk to them a minute. They agreed and her father said, but only a minute, my wife has supper waiting. Mr. Korsun asked me to walk away while grown-ups talked. I never knew what was said, tried to peek at smiles or mad faces, any sign of yes or no, but I couldn't tell anything until they walked down the street. I saw Mr. Korsun give a slight nod, and he sat down again on the stoop. I guessed Sandy wasn't going. Her father was pretty strict.
I went to the stoop and asked, so Mr. Korsun is it just you, me and Karen Saturday. He looked that serious eyebrow look at me and said, why, you don't want Sandra along? That guy, I'm telling ya, that Mr. Korsun was something. They approved. I was in Heaven. Three more days, I would be with people who cared and I would see Mr. Vitalo and had one person to thank, Mr. Korsun.
Saturday at ten sharp I was waiting by Mr. Korsun's red and black Rambler convertible. Then Sandy walked up and next thing I heard was the door opening from Mr. Korsun's house. He said good morning young ladies, as he switched his newspaper from his hand to under his left arm, smiling and grabbing his ignition key. I sat in the back with Sandy and as we started to pull out from the parking spot, Mr. Korsun turned to me and asked, are you sure you want to go? My heart stopped and I said nothing for one whole second then, what?
Mr. Korsun are you joking with me? No, I was so anxious, he had to be kidding I thought to myself. There it was again, his husky smokers laugh. We got on the belt parkway and Mr. Korsun asked if we wanted to stop for ice cream. I felt afraid for a minute, then said I can't Mr. Korsun, my father said...and he interrupted with I know you can't have ice cream, but you can have custard(which tasted just like ice-cream) or sherbert and this stays with us who are in the car okay? Sandy laughed a big laugh and Karen smiled at her dad. It felt good having a good secret with good people.We stopped at a Carvels just before we wold arrive at Mr. Vitalo's.
Finally we arrived and just before Mr. Vitalo's house as we were watching the house numbers in this nice suburban area, Mr. Korsun turned and again asked me if I was sure I wanted to go ahead. I would have gotten out and pushed if that car didn't move again, but as usual Mr. Korsun was just teasing.
Then I saw him. He stood with his back to the street watering his garden. Mr. Vitalo, a school Principal was watering his garden! The car stopped outside of the little white picket fence with vegetables growing. Mr. Vitalo had on a light colored plaid button down shirt and madras plaid Bermuda shorts with sandals. He turned as we stopped and looked just like a guy about to answer a stranger who was traveling for directions, until he saw me and Sandy in the back seat.
Mr. Korsun stepped outside and said you must be Mr. Vitalo. I could feel my face heat up. Oh no , please Mr. Korsun I thought don't tell him, don't tell him how I feel. Mr. Korsun introduced himself , and both men reached out at the same time to shake hands, and with such a natural way, Mr. Korsun told Mr. Vitalo how we were just all out for a Saturday drive to the Island when someone said something about Mr. Vitalo living out here, so here we are passing through. They talked some small talk, about the garden and I, well I was watching Mr. Vitalo' legs, feet, hands, smile, his eyes and listening to how the two men who were both important to me in different ways were so much alike. Mr. Vitalo asked how we were enjoying the summer so far, asked Karen where she went to school and then said he had to get back to his garden. The kindness was immeasurable. To this day it overwhelms me. Finally Mr. Vitalo said again after another lapse in small talk, well everyone, I have to get back to my garden or my wife won't give me lunch. Mr. Korsun reached out his hand again, thanked Mr. Vitalo for his time, and apologized for any intrusion.
After stretching on the sidewalk we all hopped back in the car, yelling bye Mr. Vitalo, bye, see ya in September. He waved and smiled. I watched him as he faded into the distance with a memory that I would remain engraved forever on my heart.
Thank you Mr. Korsun
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