Foster Care, What Many Don't Know, A Gun

              At one point I knew I worked in foster care too long, too long because I couldn't say anything without either getting fired and being made to look like a trouble maker. But it was long before that, I made sure to tell most of the kids who would remember, to get a new social security number, get copies of all your medical records so when you're older, you can challenge discrepancies. I doubt many remembered or cared..
      I let them know they could go to college for free and could also challenge a move if for the right reasons. I had one child challenge and actually call a lawyer to stay with me. A foster child can remain in care until age twenty-two. Here's the catch;they wanted their freedom with no curfews, stay out with friends without any accountability, were encouraged to have saving accounts but in the later years because of age, I would have to be on the account too. At one point I bought savings bonds for a young girl.
       I tried to let them know about vocational college, I did let them know and one boy went to HACC, but he was more interested in getting a laptop for free, even sat in my field one day, the screen cracked from that or laying in the trunk of a friends car and yet he talked the school into giving him another one for free. Many kids learned so young about the rights they had that they thought using them fast and furious helped them, it just upset some people.
       One agency hired so many people and friends of people just to keep people employed. They were all friends and so it wasn't about the kids, it was about keeping money in the pockets of friends. I told one man on the day he was leaving about a woman who spanked her very young foster son, had electricity turned off and other things. His answer was, I didn't hear that.
        There was a boy in my home who brought a gun and now this sounds nuts, but he wasn't a bad kid. He saw his grandfather beat his mom as a little boy and as he grew he wanted to protect women. I worked with his grandfather in Mental health who had schizophrenia.
         The boy had the onset which erupted in my home . Little y little he covered his window, nailed a cross upside down to his wall, ripped up a Bible and as I watched him and asked if he needed anything, want to grab a sandwich, go out it was no, no and no. A few days before we went to see his mom which was where he grabbed the gun and put it in his small backpack. We stopped at a convenience store to get coffee and a soda for him. He saw a man hitting a woman and yelling at her, started to open the car door and I gently grabbed his arm. No don't we can call the police. No police, he just wanted to leave, but the man noticed the boy at 17 getting out of the car. The man then took the woman by the arm and in a muffled voice said something pushing her to the store.
         After we got home he started to go deep inside himself and I called on-call to let them know. I was asked who's his MHP, Mental Health Professional. The response was she's in a meeting with the group. Half hour later I call again. BY the fourth call I get a call back saying, what have you done to alleviate the situation. I explain, monitoring, talking quietly etc etc etc.  IT was four hours later before his MHP arrived. She sat and said where is he. Oh GOD! How many times to I need to repeat this?
In his room, darkened etc. She said, can you go and get him and I'll be in back of you? She did walk in back of me until she heard him say, I'm not talking to her. I asked him, Will you just listen?
He said okay. We went to the kitchen table and he came out a few minutes later.
        He had his mini back pack, put it on the seat, no sound as if he had hardware in it. I spoke a little and so did the MHP. He was telling me how he was feeling and I said I'm sorry you feel like you have to protect yourself that way. THEN he took out the gun and put it down very hard on the table.
       He said in a calm manner, I don't have to protect myself, I have to protect you women with this.
The MHP was now shaking and for five seconds I thought, who will tell my children? Then I said to him, ----Thank you for being so honest and trying to protect us, but you know now I have to take this, reaching across the table for the gun. He didn't move an inch to stop me, but shook his head yes. I went on with, I have a friend who's a cop, is kind, not a bully etc. and I have to call him. Again he shook his head yes. Calling 911, I was asked if he had any other weapons and he jumped up with ease and said, oh yeah, I have your saw blade. It was to a jig saw. I followed him and he gave it to me. The MHP said, do you mind if I go out and smoke? No , go.
      IT wasn't long before two police cars pulled up and came knocking. I walked the boy out and introduced him to my friend. He allowed a search and was very polite. My heart beat more for him because he was truly ill. It's genetic, His mother suffered from sever depression. Many times Mental illnesses go from one gender in the family to another. The MHP stood with tears in her eyes and we chatted a little then she left.
      She went out on disability a few weeks later and the boy went to jail. I went to court as a witness, hugged his mom and shook his hand. No I wasn't angry. He was a very ill kid and his illness was just starting. It's a lifetime of heartache.
    More in a few days

Two Year- Old's Becoming Friends

        This morning as I took a very short walk with my two year-old grandson, then turned around to walk back, he kept looking back. I glanced up and saw a lady with a stroller walking toward us. I told my little guy, come on sweetie lets go. He did but he continued to look back. I was walking slow anyway and so the young lady caught up with her son in the stroller.
           We both stopped and greeted each other. I asked my little one to shake hands and he very slowly reached out to the other little boy, who was also two. The other child kept his hand closed, but only momentarily, Then they both clasped hands. Introductions were made all around and then I asked if the little boy could walk with my grandson. He sure could and did. That stroller table opened and he jumped right out. In seconds the two, two-year old's were walking and holding hands!
           The other little child talked so fast he sounded like my daughter and he was so cute. Finally my little guy broke loose. This was his first "friend" type experience that I had the happiness of seeing. By end of our short walk and before good-bye were said, I was invited to go along with them to the playground, exchange phone numbers and addresses and because of these two-year old's also made a friend.
           Before I end this, I wanted to also let people know, This young lady told me she was from India and we talked about education, and people who are homeless, all once again because two, two years old's were curious about each other. That's all it took to become friends. I wish I took a picture of them holding hands, but I have it in my heart.

Sexual Assaults, Men's Perversions, Life in Prison at Least !

       It's about time more women are coming forward. Before I go further, yes, I know women have done it too, and I'm not brushing it aside. I don't care if it's a man or woman who is the abuser, they should equally spend life in prison.
        I've been told by someone close, well if a guy serves time, gets out, then Megan's Law is really unfair because the guy already served his time. By putting him on this list he's being punished all over again-yet he went on to say in his opinion, death would be better because if that happened to any of his kids, he'd want to kill the guy.
          Here's why I feel life in prison and I bet you can guess this before you read my post;that abuser has changed a life or lives forever! So why shouldn't the abuser get the same and worse. If I was in charge, drop him off in the middle of the ocean for fish food, yet I don't want to poison the ocean.
So put them in prison with yellow suits. Yes, of course yellow! These people who sexually abuse others are first cowards and second bullies who threaten and intimidate.

          Now we have a guy, a senator Moore, Roy Moore from Alabama who was recently accused and his precious Christians are standing with him. WHY? Because of proof, because they've known him forever!
          Pedophiles do not molest children, rape others, grope, feel, use porn, sell women and yell hey look at what I'm doing! Smart people are so stupid. How the hell can they even ask for proof and yes I know there are false allegations at times. Look at Tawana Brawley who did what she did because of Al Sharpton, a male in position who took advantage of a kid because he wanted political attention. I wonder if he ever paid his taxes ?

        Remember Chris Hansen who had a show years ago exposing pedophiles ? Yup, fired for cheating on his wife if I remember right. Hes now back on TV, Older and fatter, BUT that doesn't distract from the following: That show exposed men of all ages, all faiths, races and careers.  There were Catholics priests, Rabbi's, Teachers, ministers , coaches, and on and on.
That didn't stop anyone from continuing to molest, rape, and sexually assault!

       Finally too we have so called celebrities that many don't want to believe. "oh how could he do that, he's such a a nice guy". There all nice on the outside, just like a book. People in the position of power don't necessarily have to be bosses, coaches etc. Those pedophiles are also fathers, cousins, brothers, grandparents and spouses who cover up. Why do they cover up?They take the easy way out, they may have to support themselves, embarrassment, disbelief (but they really know) its just easier which makes them worse than the abuser, they colluded, they allowed it to knowingly continue.
        Parents keep talking to your kids, doors stay open, two go to a bathroom in a movie,, keep spaces between others in movies. Overnight trips, sleepovers? Hell NO ! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT'S IN SOMEONES MIND! Prison for Life, no exceptions!

       

A Jewish Dream

      I know ! A Jewish Dream ? How weird is that? I'm not even Jewish, but who cares.  So here it is: Suddenly I found myself in an apartment or house, couldn't really tell and i Was a teenager again wearing penny loafers which I did wear as a kid, and a long print dress, which I never wore. My hair was shoulder length and more curly at the bottom and I wore bangs. I never had bangs except as a five-year old.

     Well inside this home was gathering of a lot of people, all in their mid twenties to late thirties and me. Someone was missing, the old man. I didn't have any idea who the old man was or his relation to anyone yet. I walked around the people, looking and listening. Everyone was drinking, what they were drinking I couldn't tell. Glasses were clear. It was crowded and so much chatter was going on. Then the old man came in.
       He was so slender, wore a dark suit and shirt. He had a hat on and took it off when he came in. He was stooped over, but not sing a cane or walker. He was shaking his head and nodding, looking about. I went to him and asked why he was gone so long. Hands up he said, look, why would I want to be here? This is family ? We walked and sat at an old wooden table. I asked if he wanted something to eat. He took out another round hat and placed it on his head. He said, no, I cannot what they  have on plates, that every hand gas touched, so unclean.

      He asked me if I had a candle. I went to my room-oow I had a room-took out a candle, matches and gave to the old man. He lit the candle and said a prayer for family, old values and traditions. He took me to the refrigerator and showed me how the food was all scattered and then a hand reached around him grabbing lunch meat off a tray. The old man said, see, unclean. A man standing at the sink came to us and said hello dad, I'm happy you're here. Why said the old man, what is here for me anymore? look at what you have done to our Jewish family, traditions gone, dress gone, values gone, food gone. Have you forgot? The son looked sad, walked to the people in his home and asked everyone to leave. As they trailed out, he returned to his father and said, I'm sorry dad and I woke up as I was walking away in my dream.

Puppy Bag and Pillow

doozybags.etsy.com

                          This is a cute little drawstring bag with a perfect pillow, either for a puppy to nestle into or a child in the car or an adult on a plane. My handmade products are triple stitched and my prices are more than fair, so please take a few minutes to see me on etsy.

Thank you, Dooze

The Salty Dog 2015

This says it all !

        It won't be long before it's 2015 and I plan to be in Brooklyn the last day of this year and the first day of the New Year, celebrating my last supper of this year having the best burger at my favorite place. Coming back to Brooklyn means home and any time I can visit the Salty Dog only makes it more meaningful. It isn't just a bar or just a restaurant but it's the people,
        From the moment I take a first step over and into The Salty Dog, I always first notice the wooden floors and then me eyes sweep the room taking it all in, the firetruck, blazing a deep red, the brick walls and the bar. The bar at times looks lonely, waiting. It sits and waits for elbows, smiles, pats on the backs of friends, hugs, kisses on cheeks and orders of big beer mugs.  Here it comes, a frosty one and a big man grabbing the cold handle after a long day and taking that first swallow and just as he does a buddy walks in, pulling his thick blue jacket off, nodding his head and another beer is set up. The voices. Two men who share a same kind of job, now relaxed at home with who they know. Home as in the neighborhood place to be.
        As I continue to walk to the back, I notice a few servers on each side waiting to see where I want to sit, not where they want me to sit. That's a nice feeling. No one is pushing me to sit in a section. Ah, I am comfortable. Adjusting my eyes to the dimly lit area I see some familiar faces, smiling and welcoming. They know me, as a visitor who comes up every few months or sometimes longer. It  doesn't matter. I'm just as good as any regular. They know what I order but ask anyway to make sure I didn't want anything different.
       Then they look to the other side. My guest, usually a kid, but once in a while a friend I grew up with and no matter who or what, we are treated as friends, as long time neighborhood friends.
      I'm a listener and a watcher and I see how people are treated at The Salty Dog, how they are spoken to, smiled at. Warm hearts. It's almost like saying, Who loves ya baby?  At times I forget why I'm there as I get lost in looking around. The photos on the walls, a fireman, history, buildings and a fireplace with a dalmation.
That dog who never moves but reserves in silence a place, a place for newcomers, almost makes me want to walk over and pet him, but all of this means, There's No Place Like Home.
Thank you Salty Dog

Delivery Fee? Pay Someone Else

       I just looked at delivery fees for Macy's delivery fees. They are nuts ! To me it's just lain greed. Yes two men or women may be needed and I consider the gas, but 90. for a sofa ? Come on Americans, pay a friend with a truck and help the friend out, or rent  a van and 40., take a good friend along and have free help, then you return the favor. Of course they will tell you, we can't be responsible for damages once it leaves the store-so inspect before it leaves the store.
      These companies have not one hand in your pocket but three, two which belong to the company and another for the hell of it. Macy's charges up to 190. for delivering 5 piece of furniture and of course we don't know until we get there and order to see what five pieces entails. Imagine how you can help a friend out for that much? I would rather pay my repairman the same price than to pay and overcharging company the fee.
      Help your friend and do the same. Watch out for delivery fees and before you go, talk to a few people, even ask at a local church if they have someone with a truck who can help. Remember God helps those who help them selves :)

Those Brooklyn People...

       As we approach another year left behind and try to plan for a new one, I find myself looking way back, so far back I almost trip myself.
       I think about the streets, the kids, baby carriages, cars, hair styles, music, church, police, freedoms, foods and everything life gave us then.
      So let first look at the neighborhood streets, many made of cobblestones, a black topped looking little brick, rounded and smoothed and filled in with more black. Wearing old skates made of metals, a kid could feel their feet make that brr sound, almost like your feet were doing hic cups. Then the lam posts. So tall, fancy designs and odd shaped lighting, but classy. The sidewalks were squares of concrete, nice enough to play box ball. Combined streets and sidewalks kids could play all day and night outside without getting into trouble.
       From marbles, hit the stick, stick ball, punch ball, monkey in the middle, running bases, blinds man bluff, cork cork a levio, pitching cards, flipping cards and so many more, we were never bored.
       Baby Carriages were almost like making a statement, poor or not. Any new mom seemed to find a new carriage and a fancy blanket comforter style would lay across the bottom, winter or summer. My baby brother Jimmy had the fanciest on the block-until a new baby was born and we were considered poor. I never thought of things that way even when told. I just thought we didn't have a lot of money. That was okay too.
      Remember Old Spice, Brute, English Leather, Chantilly, Tabu, and those great hairstyles. Friday night the closest Catholic church held dances and my brothers all went as well as my sister. Me? I ironed shirts, slacks and made sure the hair tonic bottle was ready and with a younger brother shined shoes. Then got my baby brother ready for his crib...think he stayed there until he was about fifteen :)
         We had hot summer days with the ice cream truck coming around, you know the kind a uniformed man reached way in with freezer air coming out, reaching for a toasted almond. Yeah, The Good Humor truck ! Night time brought mister Softee, neighbors sitting and drinking ice tea, windows open with blinds raise up to the top. Well that depends what block you lived on. If you were very poor, your blinds were all the way, but somewhat poor, blinds were half way up.
       Even on those nights when it was sweltering hot, it was never too hot for pizza from the local pizza place, walking around the corner with a best friend and talking about a latest crush.
     What made all of those times work better than other's would be the neighbors, the sounds of accents, laughter, whispers and just spending time on stoops, after all what were we if without a stoop? Those stoops were our hangouts, our homes, almost a safe haven. We knew if we didn't see one another during the day, that sometime later in the afternoon, one of us or a parent would be on the stoop.
      That's Brooklyn and the people in it. If you can make it there...you know the rest, now smile that knowing Brooklyn smile.
     
    
    

Lonely Teenager, A Poem a day...

   Lonely Teenager

 

He walked with shoulder's slumped down

 a Hoodie, now known on his head

He seemed to stand out more than others

yet felt like he was dead.

 

She was different than her friends

who teased her all day long

they said she never really knew

how to, sing their song.

 

They said he never was quite like them

that he looked funny too

and he even talked weird to people

but he was just lonely, like you.

 

They said she wore her hair so long

 and she walked her kind of gait

so they never bothered to ever know

her inside, her love of faith.

 

Next time you see a kid so weird

and doesn't seem like you

take the time to be a friend

That's what really counts too.

 

Look inside yourself, in the mirror today

look past the eyes you see, your clothes for the day

look past the friends who are just fake, walking on popular street

and take another look at those, who really don't want to compete.

Look and look again

Be honest with who you are

Open up the palm of your hand

Get to know the person, see the shining star.

It Only Takes You

       How much we have or how little we have, we have a lot if someone loves us, if everyone has reasonably good health and if you haven't recently lost someone, then you and I have a lot.  But if any of these things affect you or someone you know, then what do you do? What?
       I don't know what really but I do know those who have a real serious faith do much better than those who don't. How do we believe someone is in heaven when they didn't lead a heavenly life you might ask...well, maybe because they had a heavenly heart. Only God really knows.
     Right now I know a man who cares for his uncle's needs in many ways and the uncle is in his eighties. This man is fighting cancer, yet he runs, walks, golfs and who knows what more he's doing. The nephews is so proud of his uncle. That's also faith. They just never quit.
        Now there are hungry people, and people who simply need a friend. Just be careful how you approach them. People have pride and don't like charity. Yes, I know pride goeth before the fall. Haven't we all tripped one time or another? Still there are also people who are lonely, lonely in their own family and those who are so wealthy they become cold hearted and sometimes the poor are as bad, due to pride, but find a way and not because it's a holiday, but because we are human.
        Know too that many people do not have any religious affiliation at all, don't believe in God at all or a higher power. It takes one moment of friendship,one small miracle, one birth, one saved life to show that miracles to come. That works the opposite when someone dies especially a young person. How do you tell a mom or dad and more that there is a purpose to this, much less God had a hand in it? You don't. You let them grieve and talk out as they need to, say what they feel and be there, for  a very long time.
          Remember if someone loves you, even if they're not physically close you have more than many, so be more than many to just one person, any day of the year. Here's to you Victoria and Samantha !
 

I Met This Guy...

     Something you never want to hear from your daughters..but if they start with mom, dad I want you to meet this wonderful man, then give it a chance. Yes, okay some good things start with, I met this guy...but start so early with your sons and daughters to say, if they respect you and you respect them, they will come to meet me and not hide from all the questions you as parents need to, must, have to ask.
     If not...if your kids don't agree thinking you're just old fashioned, then get the bloodhounds on this new person in their lives. You the parent's need information on their backgrounds to make as sure as you can, that your child, no matter how old or young, no matter how educated they are, but won't tell you about this new person, then it's up to you. Track down friends, hangouts, look at the license plate and find out. Alienate bad influences by making yourself known as the parent who is checking up, as the parents who loves so much, you not going to give your child up so easily to garbage, the kind of garbage we see every day in life, on TV, getting locked up and in the streets.
   Love of all kinds, is expensive. It takes time and it takes lives. This is your child. Don't let the streets and garbage- type of people take your child. I know most think, well my child is a child no longer. Would you say the same if your child dies? Your child is always your baby girl or baby boy. That's what love is. It's our jobs to make the filth, the garbage, the invaders of goodness who want to destroy by making your child like them, invisible but known and known too, that you are there for one reason only-to protect your child.

What Commodity is Love ?

       We've heard it said that certain things are a precious commodity. But the most of those would be love. I do feel love is a commodity, real, deep, true and loyal love is a precious commodity as is the love you have for your children, spouses, best friends, grandchildren and life long crushes.
       But love is also a dangerous commodity and that I heard from some movie. It took me a few hours to think that through, but I agree. Loving allows hurt, revenge, termination of affections, one-sided views, distortion and perceptions not meant and most of all, a cold departure, maybe never to be repaired. The longer that departure, distance, lack of communication goes on, it simply becomes a way of life and a way acceptable because of persuasion, because of jealousy and because of preference and pride.
       Preference? Definitely. Just look at photos and see who is in more photos, how holidays are shared and with whom, how much more time is spent with others and it just becomes easier and love becomes,  that dangerous commodity that now belongs no longer to you but to others. So you have lost. Do you try again? I don't know. How much can you emotionally afford to keep on losing?

An Open Letter to Kevin G. of Love & Friendship

Dear Kevin

   First here is about one of the last pictures I had of your mom with Mike shoveling snow from her car.( Where were you?)  :) We had such a ball when we were snowed in that winter  at the Gregory hotel and ended up having supper at your moms'.She made roast beef which I think Mike ate the whole thing, mashed potatoes and gravy and vegetables and then had pie.

 That was in 2009 I'm pretty sure. We had 22 inches in New York and they closed the turnpike. Snow was then as it was when your mom and I were kids. Maybe this is more about her, but for you. We were such good friends although it didn't start out that way. She was my sisters friend, same grade in school, yet it wasn't long before we found out how much more she and I were alike. We didn't belong to snob clubs :) Your mom and I were the tallest kids, almost in school and we had so much in common that we felt like twins at times. We loved waiting for one another to walk to school together and talk about crushes. Ask her about Mr. J. Navy man and teacher.

 

     I think what made us work as friends that we understood how things are, were and should be, then and now. We both babysat our siblings and that was a big deal. Not every eleven and twelve year olds are entrusted with such younger brothers or sisters for so much time. We both had strict parents but with different reasons. She and I used to walk up and down the street with the kids, or go see Mr. Korsun up the block.  Mr. Korsun always gave my snotty little brother keys, and your moms sister, Judy was always well behaved, sweet and just a cute kid, as I remember. But we feel different with our own memories of things. Mr. Korsun was like a stoop sitting shrink, what guy he was. I knew I could always talk to him and he would help as he could.

   The last time I saw him was a day I was leaving Brooklyn and just saw your mom. We had breakfast together. On that last time I saw him, your mom called the next day and let me now he passed away. We wonder why things happen so timely. I knew I wanted to see him again since it was so long since the last time.

   But your mom and I would talk to him as if he was just an older and wiser kid. He was. Sometimes there an adult you just know you can tell anything to, well almost anything. To a kid though, as well meaning as some people are, it can be dangerous for the kid to tell that trusted adult. Anyway I met or re met your mom when I moved to 56th st. An apartment became available in a brownstone and as soon as I saw it I was in love all over again, besides Mr. Vitalo; ask your mom.

   The brownstone became our stoop, Mostly mine and Sandy's. I had good landlords and so did she, mainly Mrs Millen and mine was very special too, although her first name escapes me. She and her husband always would sneak me a glass of wine, feeling and know my parents were way too strict with me. ( in a selfish way)

When I told your mom how my landlady stood up to my father, Madeline! That was her name, Madeline Magnotta, well your mom was as happy for me as I was for me. It didn't do any good except to infuriate my father, but inside of me, I felt hope rising. I knew some day I would be a little courageous like her. Boy it took a long, long time :)

    Your mom and I would walk around the corner to get Pizza at Scottie's. Our little crushes there were, Louie and Scottie. I liked Louie. He had dark curly hair, and slow smile and just plain yummy. She like Scottie who had a lighter Sandy colored hair and he seemed to work more than Louie. Scottie only retired a few years ago while Louie died very young. Her men live longer-duh we know that don't we? :)

   Then there was the donut shop around the other corner. On hot summer days, your mom and I would take the kids and get donuts and sodas. Judy loved the donut shop, and so did my brother although he always wanted more.

    As grammar school graduation neared we knew we were going in different directions. Her parents wanted her to get an education. She went to Bay Ridge High and I went to Fort Hamilton when my parents wanted me out of school to continuing babysitting. So it was that which pretty much started a new life for us both. I stayed and babysat until leaving home at twenty-two, seeing your mom off and on and we'd still chat here and there, laugh and with me wishing I could go back to seventh and eighth grade.

   Oh Kevin, one thing I left out. Mr. Korsun...One summer when your mom and I were up at his stoop and his daughter was out I was talking about Mr. Vitalo, my life long love & crush. Mr. Korsun asked where he lived and I told him Levittown. This great and wonderful man says to me, well why don't we take a ride and go see him. We don't have to barge in, just drive by and say hello. Can you imagine from Brooklyn to Long Island to say hello. I think that's where I got my feeling now of, hey I'm off to Brooklyn for some great pizza, BRB-and I do that too. Well a big worry was I knew my father would not let me go and said as much to Mr. Korsun.

     Mr. Korsun said let me talk to him, I'll change his mind. He and I saw my father coming down the steps with trash and Mr. Korsun didn't wast any time. He said let's go kid and together we faced my father. WOW, if only Mr. Korsun was my father, Cigarette in hand he wore a Hawaiian looking green shirt, knee length green colored shorts, and I watched his mustache while he spoke. He reached his hand out first. CRAP, I knew my father was not about to shake hands, but he did.

    In the next few minutes I listened as Mr. Korsun persuaded my father into "wanting me to go along" as any "dad" would. This was magic in the purest sense of the word. He cast a spell over my father. In my heart Mr. Korsun was now my dad. That's who a dad is ! Mr. Korsun told him about how long it would take, taking into consideration traffic and stopping for ice cream and of course no mention of Mr. Vitalo, that he was just going to show us some of Long Island, in a convertible and a look at the beaches. Also he reinforced that his daughter and your mom with her parents approval would go along as well, just a nice day out with the kids. Mr. Korsun drove a red and black Rambler convertible.

     We all piled in with me and your mom in the back feeling all grown-up. I had Mr. Vitalo's address. That's what kids with crushes do. Well you wouldn't believe it. As we neared Levittown Mr. Korsun pulled over and gave us some prepared conversation about if we see Mr. Vitalo we just talk about being out on a hot summers day, checking out towns, beaches and more, a kind of get-a-way day.

     It wasn't long before we pulled into Mr. Vitalo's suburban neighborhood, with what looked like had to be only rich people. Hey, what did I know, I was a kid. Then we came to his street and I watched the numbers go down until we reached 224 and as Mr. Korsun spoke the world around me went quiet. I vaguely heard Mr. Korsun say, well look who's outside watering their lawn. I think I saw him before anyone else did. If I could have fallen over I would have so it was good That I was already seated.

   Still feeling some odd silence although my heart was banging like a baseball bat on a trash can, we finally stopped at the exact spot where Mr. Vitalo stood, holding a hose, looking down into a flower bed, wearing shorts, holy crap! Mr. Vitalo in shorts! He also wore a flowered shirt. There must be a reason. I thought God had to arrange this and given the plan to Mr. Korsun since both men looked to be wearing the same shirt.

    Mr. Vitalo looked up as the car stopped at the curb. I watched his hand twist the nozzle off. I always watched his hands. Mr. Korsun smiled and said excuse us, as he stepped out of the convertible. He moved to where Mr. Vitalo stood , switched hands with his cigarette and reached out to introduce himself and say, I guess you know at least two of these young ladies, yup me and your mom. I was choking inside and became mush but suddenly found my lips. Uh Hi, Hi Mr. Vitalo. He smiled back, oh that smile. Your mom was squishing my shoulder telling me, Nance, look he's in shorts. Oh God don't ya think I know I whispered.

    We all got out had small talk as arranged by Mr. Korsun, leader of the band, as Mr. Vitalo asked, "so what brings you to my door?"  As he and Mr. Korsin spoke, I was sneaking looks at his eyes, glasses, the mole on his cheek, how his mouth moved, his hair and smile. I remember this trip so well as if it was the Ten Commandments ( sorry God) I wanted to cry with thankfulness to Mr. Korsun. I think he knew even then for me it was more than a crush. Mr. Vitalo was my childhood crush, love, example of what makes a man and much more, and Mr. Korsun was my value in all of that as if he knew and understood.

    The visit lasted only about five minutes in Levittown, but lasted a lifetime in my heart, and I got to share that with your mom, Karen, Mr. Korsun's daughter and Mr. Korsun. I think somehow after that I knew Karen was the luckiest kid on the earth and for one day, I was second luckiest.

 

    So Kev, the years after that flew by. We got on with lives, marrying and having children. We both had two, lived in Brooklyn at least for my first child, and yet she and I were no longer connected. Maybe marriages helped with that. But in between school and married life I knew we both went onto a different path.

    Then I moved to Oregon, Washington and California. I finally returned in 1980 and when I saw my mother she told me she bumps into your mom every so often and one day we met on fifth ave. hugging, laughing and happy to see each other again. She gave me her address, the one on e. 29st. That was when I also had the pleasure of meeting your dad. He and I hit it off in an unusual. He wisecracked at me and I gave it right back. A sealed friendship for sure.

    Since then your mom and I have visits as out time allows and my being able to come to NY now that I'm in PA. We still have hilarious times, and that's just talking. Imagine if it was more. But there was a night I asked her to take me to two places. I asked her to keep the engine running and no I didn't rob a store, but I did ring doorbells and run, and it was okay because it was just a couple of guys I knew. That's what makes life fun, harmless stuff. I got back in her Hyundai, we laughed ourselves silly and took off. Sadly I still run but the Hyundai doesn't. Hey maybe a new Hyundai out of this?

     I've gotten to know and meet her two sons, your baby girl and what a wonderful dad you are, and we've shared time too. Your mom and I looked at you and my son on one visit in her kitchen and thought, here we are two ladies, once girls playing stick ball with now grown sons, who now each have a child. Who would have thought? Your mom and I plan some time next year to go back to 56th street again where our friendship started and walk down memory lane. Hey Kev, wanna take a walk?

   When all is said and done, things go back to the kitchen or a diner, two other best places where friends meet, tell secrets, whisper as if they have a secret, pout hearts out, confide and trust and laugh the hardest. We always laugh together. Your mom and I have so many memories of those two places, and I'm sure like many, that's what we not only look back on, but look ahead to. Kev, I'm looking ahead to seeing you in March with your mom. I have something to celebrate and you have to be part of it. I love ya Kev, see you in March-in Brooklyn!

Love you like another son, Nancy

    

 





Happy New Year! Resolutions?

    2012 is here, and making resolutions is a good idea, even if you stick to them or not. At least you do think about trying. Mine are simple, to wake up every day and make every day a better day, to do whats right for my body, and hopefully help someone else in some kind of battle they may be going through. Heaven knows I haven't this far done what right for my body, although my doctor has said many times that I must be eating right. I love protein, too much coffee, not enough if any exercise.
     Two days after Christmas I got sick, still feel the blahs, but during this time, I haven't had any coffee and am trying to keep it that way. I haven't eaten much at all with the exception of last night, cookies, a pint of ice cream (which made me hack like crazy) and of course ginger-ale, my favorite soda when I do have soda.
     What I do know about resolutions is hopefully they make us better people and that's really all that counts. When we become better people we put aside the material things is life, the brand name clothing, fancy restaurants, and just living a high life. I'm not against having fun at all and we do want nice homes, apartments or houseboats and brand names if made in the US to support our people. Where ever you live and how you live is your business, the same as it is mine. But this year I have decided to declutter my life a lot, along with taking better care of me so I can offer me to help if anyone needs or wants it.
      Life is too short for some; unexpected health problems happen like being hit in the face with a brick. Be a good friend to whom ever. Show you care by buying a dinner, lunch and walk away. It's not a time for being social. It's not a time for showing off, but for staying in the background. Give that friend a ride, wait outside, listen, bake something, clean and just do. Don't pat yourself on the back. Your friend has silently done that and do what you can for the right reasons, because you're needed and end it with that. Why? Because you're healthy enough to do all of those things in this New Year.

My Friend Sandy , Brooklyn to a Tee

      I met Sandy in School and we became fast friends, well almost. She was a friend of my sister first, but later when we met we knew we had more in common. Both a tad bit off :) we knew we could confide, joke the kind of jokes our parents wouldn't appreciate and talk about boys, also something our parents wouldn't want to know about. We also went to church every Sunday, not the same one, but we went.
     Sandy and I had a couple things of great importance in common. We both babysat our siblings; she her sister and me my brother. The big difference was Sandy was allowed to do her school work. Her parents stressed that came first. We both also lived in a brownstone house on the same street, same side, top floors and went to the same Grammar school. Sandy and I were also tall girls who had crushes on teachers we'd giggle about before and after school, and on weekends too. Oh okay all the time.
    Sandy and I were friends with some adults on the block because we also both couldn't go out like many kids. Our parents were strict, but by no means with the same interest in mind for us. I'm not going into that here. It would just tarnish this article, but I will say, I always had a lot of respect for Sandy's parents, still do. Hey San, if you're reading this, I still would like another trip to Dunkin Donuts with your mom. Boy did we all laugh that night. Your mom is a good person and I used to wish she was my mom.
    Anyway, each time except the last Sandy and I would meet at the Salty dog with her son, my Kev. Her husband came along once I think, but you know how it is with friends. You can be more free to vent, chat laugh your silly self stupid with memories. It's just a freedom you don't have with your kids or spouse especially when you talk about growing up years and stuff. You know, stuff.
    Sandy I am coming up the weekend of my birthday and unlike last year, we are going to the Salty Dog-come on San, we have to! Please?
Friend? Sandy remember those talks with Mr. Korsun and the trip to Long Island with Karen too, to see Mr. Vitalo. Oh hey, guess what, I just got a card from Mrs.V.-that was such a happy day for me. Then Jenny came up for Christmas, and I told her, showed the card and she too was happy. They sure made a good pair San.
     Well San, I'll see ya soon, before we know it, I'll be there. Back in Brooklyn where, My Heart Still Beats; Name of my book coming out in the Spring. Sandy, have a good relaxing week off. You deserve it friend.
P.S.
Sandy those walks on the block and trying to be so quiet so out siblings didn't hear, the promises we made to them if they would just be quiet so we could talk? Well that was fun. We were always thinking about how we could say what we wanted without our sister or brother knowing. Not that we'd do anything wrong, just the kid crush stuff.
MR. J 7& Mr. V.-we'd compare our likenesses, and yet over the years I know we both still think about those crushes, how those men were like knights. Those men who gave us examples of what to look for in men, but did we? :) Later San, see ya soon, Nance.
     
    
   

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?

Not Just a Cheeseburger at Friendly's

       Recently I had an opportunity to have lunch with a younger man, uh no, too young for me, but still nice. He is handsome, smart, a nice sense of humor, a good dresser, nice manners in general, helpful, an extremely hard worker and he loves cheeseburgers, mushroom Swiss with bacon to be exact. I wanted so much to have one of Friendly's burgers that I had about five years ago with a few kids. You know how that goes though. Great once and never again. I did have one at Friendly's a year ago and it was just, aah, so I decided I wouldn't do that again at that particular Friendlys. Two different Friendly's, two different burgers.

         Here we were now at Friendly's in another county, business type lunch, but laid back. Ordering burgers I only hoped for one half as good as what I had five years ago. It was sensational, and made me want another if I could have eaten it. Too much bun, and I ate it all anyway. Friendly's I have only one negative thing to say, too much bun doesn't leave room for desert. Maybe that's a good thing for those a tad bit, okay more than a tad bit heavier.
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I dare ya! Save a home this Holiday

Remember that old saying, I dare ya? How many dares have we taken in the years growing up from friends who would never take that dare. If memory serves me right, I hardly took any dares, too afraid. I knew if it was a Dare like jump too high, I'd fall and wet my pants laughing. Still do that part.
So what is it you dare to do outside of the friends group, or popular group? Yes, I know how insulting this sounds. But look how many people do things because the population is doing it? What if you said no. What if you said, I'm going to feed the poor, the lonely, the sick, the unemployed, the elderly, the disabled and do better this year than decorate my house, than buy a bunch of gifts no one really appreciates and will take back anyway. Do something worth while instead. Do something because that is what's really in you. I dare ya! I double dare ya!