This one or That one ?

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How do you know if your child is Gay?

       I've had a few parents ask me this question, as they, just suspect, but no for sure proof. The male children don't have a certain way of speaking, don't show sashaying walks, not tweezing eyebrows, no painted fingers or toes, don't want to hang around mom more than dad. So what is typical for a boy mainly between ten and fifteen?
     Do they wear make-up to school and just tell you they wanted to get someone mad, or they were just messing around? Are they more interested in female clothes, and things of the female nature? What is that anyway? In this day and age, it's all up for grabs. People wear what they want, and usually to simply be comfortable.
    I don't have an answer except to say this. No matter who your child is, support them in every way you  can. A child who knows he or she is loved and supported will probably live a long time. A child who is turned away, not supported and believes he or she isn't loved has a higher rate of suicide.
    This is your child. Would you love them less if they were a Republican or Democrat? This is your child. If you don't love and accept them for who they are, who will? You may say they'll find some one who will, but what kind of person will that be? Take charge of your love and give it all to your child. Don't take chances with their love.

Innocense is Priceless (this came from an e-mail)

INNOCENCE IS PRICELESS

One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Alex standing in the foyer of the church staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names and small American flags mounted on either side of it. The six-year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly, 'Good morning Alex.'

'Good morning Pastor,' he replied, still focused on the plaque. 'Pastor, what is this? '

The pastor said, 'Well son, it's a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service.'

Soberly, they just stood together, staring at the large plaque. Finally, little Alex's voice, barely audible and trembling with fear asked,

'Which service, the 8:30 or the 11:00?'

Mrs. Vitalo, It Really is the Little Things

 What a surprise I received today in the mail and like many years ago when my daughter got the mail and called me, I had to call her. Although from two different people who were married, and I still think of them that way even though Mr. Vitalo passed away in nineteen ninety-nine, I received a card from Mrs. Vitalo and I smiled and smiled.
   A best gift ever for sure.
I know when you talk about gifts with kids, and not all kids, it is the big things that matter, but as we grow, mature and have families of our own we know what counts and it doesn't come in a big package. That's how it was today. This was a small miracle.
      You see the address was wrong. It had a box number on it and an RD 2 in front of it. It was close to how my address was years ago, many years ago. Now my address is a plain four number address without any numbers at all as I used to have. However it was an easy mistake, the 1199AA-used to be 1119A-and in this area mail is not delivered to a wrong address without some return and a correction, a black line through it for sure. So why and how? How did someone decide I was that person meant for this card, this year. Why? Someone up there likes me?
      Mrs. Vitalo, I was always thankful to you for your graciousness . You were ever so kind to Jenny and I, inviting us into your home with Mr. Vitalo. I was the luckiest kid alive to know him growing up, and then, and then to re-meet him with you his wife and some family. Jenny and I had good times, laughs, lunches, hugs and for me, A Yellow Rose. One which Mr. Vitalo picked as you held Jenny back a little so I could talk freely. But I still choked, said little, and was just amazed that I was where I was.
     Mrs. Vitalo Jenny said when we left your home after that first time, Mom, now I know why you loved him all those years. I thought about saying that or not, but yes like many kids I loved him. Like many kids I didn't have a true male role model and it was that kind of thing.  He was a big brother, father, friend and mentor and minister. You know how kids grow and talk about their dads to their kids, well I talked to my kids about Mr. Vitalo. My son once said, Mom I only wish I met Mr. Vitalo.
        Then I told my son how Jenny and I went to the Island and met Mrs. Vitalo. I let Michael my son know how our visits were, and how Mr. Vitalo offered me a beer, saying, hey Nance want to have a beer with your old principal? Well I am sorry I passed that up and thought about it many times.
      Mrs. Vitalo, Thank you. Thank you for the time you gave to me and to Jenny. Even now she says mom, remember.... and we exchange stories about the Island visits.  Just as important and I know I'll misspell this, she loves to say tchotchkies. Anytime she looks for those little heart warmers, she'll call and say mom, I'm tchotchkie hunting. She got that from you. We remember meeting you after TJ Maxx at the Pizza place with that cool coat. You said oh this ol' thing. This is Nicks. I love it; he doesn't ever wear it anymore but it's just nice and comfy for me. It was a light reddish and grey plaid coat with beer barrel buttons and big square pockets. It fit perfectly.
      Well a lot of time has passed, and to let you know Jenny is taking Mr. Vitalo's advice as he said, Jen, Make your money while you're young. She is a go getter, single and living in Delaware. I sent you a couple of cards, and called a couple of times, left messages, but not sure if you ever got them so I decided maybe it was time for me to fade away. So to get this card today. Well Mrs. V. It was just like the first time when Mr. Vitalo replied after I sent him a note while at Penn State.
       Then came a sad time, so sad for you and all his family and anyone who knew him. Sitting in your living room some time later, surrounded by an unfillable void, I couldn't understand how good you could be to invite me; and with your daughter, your grandson all so kind. It was truly heartbreaking. Yet, even with that, you took me to an album and shared his last days with the family. He was so loved, as you are. I was humbled. When people talk about a love made in Heaven, they must mean the Vitalo's, all.
        Mrs. V. I hope to see you in the Spring or before. I love you, Nancy

59th st. Kids, Trains & Tony Snyder-Brooklyn

         Every time I see a train, I think about Tony Snyder. I don't ever remember seeing Tony angry. To me he had a rare set of parents and that isn't meant to take anything away from other good parents. I used to wish he was my brother. Tony was sweet, innocent and so good hearted. We could all take lessons from him in attitude alone. Tony I believe now was truly made in the image of Jesus. That's the kind of thing we don't think about as kids.
         Tony was a tall and lanky kid with a smile that made you smile, no matter how bad your day was, no matter how bad you may have just been treated at home or school. Tony was a light. I wish I knew where he was now.
         Tony Snyder looked like both his mom and dad. More like mom except size. Tony's mom was a very large woman, but I think many people didn't notice her size so much. Like most on the block they too were poor, but she also had those looks of love on her face. She smiled most of the time, but also had those definite worried looks when it seemed Tony or anyone had a problem. She looked so much like she cared deeply. Her brow would be furrowed, head tilt, arms would envelop a person and she would comfort them, speak softly with a slight southern accent.
         Tonys' mom wore print dresses all the time, lowered neckline, puffy short sleeves with all her flesh exposed. She sure seemed happy. Flip flops on her feet, she would sashay to a neighbor and ask how they were doing that day. She had bright red hair which curved with the smiles she brought. She'd toss her hair sometimes and seem like May West was about to say, come up and see me sometime. Tony's dad seemed so opposite.
          Maybe because he worked a lot. I think he drove a cab. While mom looked Irish, his dad looked Italian, so I'm not sure of his heritage, but Snyder is Irish-I think. Anyway Tony's dad was dark featured, brown eyes, black hair and half bald.
He was also shorter than his wife. But they had so much love, so much. When he walked down the street from work, under one arm he carried his steel lunch-pail and a newspaper. In the other, well he usually had a cigarette, and one behind his ear. Tony would run to meet him, smiling, kiss his dad and dad would return that kiss, hug Tony and Tony would grab and carry the lunch pail. He wore a cap, the kind that snaps in front. Tonys' dad was rarely without a cap, even in summer. If his mom was outside she would just stay on the steps and watch Tony with his dad.
           She would make comments to us kids, see how much Tony loves his dad. Oh they're such a pair, she'd say. She would greet him too with such a big hug a person couldn't see his face any longer. Mrs. Snyder smothered her husband with love. When she talked about him, her eyes sparkled. She'd look up to the sky as if she was dreaming and talk about what a wonderful man her husband was, how much she loved him and the love he gave his family. Wow. I was envious. I thought how does that happen?
             Tony loved too, trains as much I think, well almost, as much as his mom and dad. I never knew as a kid anyone who looked and acted like him. He had thick deep dark reddish brown hair, more red and so wavy. It was curlier in front and dripped over one eye. Watching him walk to you, first you see his smile, then his hair and finally whatever he had in his hands. Tony had his hands full most days with a new train, one he just fixed or a piece for a train board. His family and trains seemed to be his life. He made train boards for anyone who asked and that's how I got to know Tony better.
             My little brother loved trains too. But I think whatever he loved was a test, to see what our father would get him, and he got anything he wanted. We were poor, but not when it came to Jimmy. So I was told to ask Tony if he would make a train board for Jimmy. You know what Tony said? With a city block wide- smile, "oh sure I will" he said. Tony grinned on and on and told me how he would do it, how big, add grass and buildings. I told him he better talk to our father first too see how much he'll pay. Tony shook that idea away tell me, he'll make it and take what ever is given! Can you imagine that?
           The following Friday night Tony showed up with a four by eight piece of wood. He cut it down to be a three by eight so it would fit under a bed. Every Friday night after supper Tony stopped at our apartment at 328-59th street, His apartment building was only a few doors up. Each time he brought more pieces to make a town, adding tracks as he could never getting a dime from our father yet.
He did have one condition. He made Jimmy work with him to appreciate a train board and all the work it took. Finally the day came and it was finished.
           Jimmy loaded his Lionel Train set on his new town, plugged it in and the engine took off with all the different cars and a cool looking caboose. Smoke came pouring out, a whistle blew and we looked over at Tony with his train hat on, smiling away. Jimmy held the controls with Tony guiding him. It was less than a month that Jimmy lost interest, and it took about three months for Tony to make that board. I still see his face, smiling as he built that board, wore his train hat and wore a heart of love nourished by helping another kid love trains the same way. I asked my father about paying Tony again and was told to mind my own business, so I dont know if Tony was ever paid. But I do know Tony, and Tony didn't get paid they way most of us do.
        Tony, like his mom, like his dad, cold teach us all about love, happiness and what's really important in this world. It wasn't long before people on our side of the street had to move. The city was tearing down that side, so I lost contact with Tony. He did come to see us a couple of times, at our new apartment in an old brownstone a few blocks away. It was sad to see Tony leave when he did visit. Each time I worried it was the last, and then one day it was the last. Tony Snyder, where are you? Are you still happy? You were my goodness. Thank you.