It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring...remember that one. Well I woke to rain this morning and felt good. Somehow it reminds me of those fun days in Brooklyn when we'd see a rainbow and sunshine on the other side of the street.
We were allowed to go out in the rain and play, and no one got sick.
Sometimes it meant playing marbles on the stoop,cards or jacks and other times it was just fun to sit and talk. Moms and dads were doing what moms and dads do and so were kids. Most of the boys would still play stick ball in the rain, just hang out, or if they were bored would come and tease the girls.
When we'd talk it was about what we wanted to be when we grew up. That's something I don't hear from too many kids today. Maybe it's just me, but I do hear it from much younger kids about ten and under. So what happens as kids get a little bit older? Are they hearing too much dismal talk from adults, not always parents?
We talk about too many things in front of the kids that instill negative thoughts and feelings and yes they do need truth in their lives, but not so much truth and not so early. Just because your life stinks now, don't pass it onto the kids. Go gently into their hearts. I keep hearing how resilient kids are;really? Why are there so many addictions, suicides, depressive kids on meds, kids killing kids. I could go on but it's too depressive.
I check myself as a parent many times and ask what if I was them and try to think of another way to say or do something, affordable or not. Weather it's about weight, education, peer pressure (the worst) religion, sex, or dating we have to be very careful. They're are so many creeps out there just waiting to take our kids. No, I don't mean children and youth. I mean gangs, perverts, drug dealers, clubs and more. Be honest with them and don't let them learn something about you that's so horrible from a relative. You know how that goes. Relatives want to be smarter than their siblings too, so what do they do? They let themselves become available to your kids to talk and then the subject comes up....
Oh I remember when, well did your mom or dad tell you when they got smashed or tried pot? Did they tell you about the friend they had who they went to parties with and...see what I mean. Many adults just want to look better in a kids eyes. Don't let that happen. You remain their role model. Remember what it was like when you were their age and think about an answer and how it will affect them before you open those lips. You thought this was going to be cheery? It can be.
When your child comes home from school today, don't use the typical line, how as your day, ask something different and unusual? Want a cup of tea with me? Hot chocolate? Ask how they made it through the day and yes, you'll get a look and maybe a, what? What do you mean how did I make it through the day? Same as always I guess. So as mom or dad your answer can be as simple as, well I just wonder sometimes, well a lot of times how you handle teacher attitudes, stuff like that. HOLD IT PARENTS!
If you say kids attitudes, your child will resent that and say why does it have to be kids, why can't it be teachers? Some teachers do have attitudes, but if you get to where your child is now, chances are they'll open up more, might say well mom I have pretty good teachers but this one "kid" always agitates me and I'm not sure what to do. I feel like I want to just punch his lights out...so now you're on board, and remember how your parents answered a question you didn't like the answer to. Find some middle ground.
Today make it a cheery day when your child comes home, not dreary, not one of accusations but listening and sharing. Don't get physically too close(leaning into them) but give some space, talk and walk to a comfortable area, like the sofa-they'll follow. Try hard not to take anyones side, but look for solutions, and look for options so your child has other choices he or she may not think about. Okay people, I am gone now. Later.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Those Evil Step Parents-How Dare they
Hey you mean step parents...what's wrong with you? How dare you try to help and support a family? You have some nerve trying to replace a parent, after all they took off, left, don't have time, not paying support, dating, have a new spouse and new kids and just seemed to no longer have interest in the children they helped bring into the world.
On the other hand, did you do the same? Sorry, has to be asked. I know there are mean step parents who try to use a dictatorship type household to command respect from someone else's children. But, yes but there are also plain ol' moms and dads who do the same. The difference here is all about blood, how you came into the family and who does the main discipline.
Can you simply be a support parent figure without discipline? I don't think so, but ground rules need to be set by both parents and step parents. If there is too much hostility between the adults who parted how do you think the kids will react. That is just it-they react, not respond. So do adults. Calm down everyone.
Maybe one thing you bring to the table is ask the kids how they feel about everything. Come to some agreements and show that you do care about how they feel. Also just a suggestion, go to church as a family. You may be different religions or none at all, so start. Go to a non-denominational church. Don't start off going during a holiday. It' so busy you get lost and most people don't even notice you-unless you sign a guest book, ask for a visit or to volunteer. Now remember this is my opinion. The Christmas holiday is coming up soon and if theres' one thing most of us know it's, Joy To The World, so don't listen to me, go to church and mend those fences before they fall down completely.
To those who might read this , if I'm wrong(hardly ever:)) add something better and more positive. There are many parents and step mom and dads who could use some good advice as well as all of those hurting and confused kids.
On the other hand, did you do the same? Sorry, has to be asked. I know there are mean step parents who try to use a dictatorship type household to command respect from someone else's children. But, yes but there are also plain ol' moms and dads who do the same. The difference here is all about blood, how you came into the family and who does the main discipline.
Can you simply be a support parent figure without discipline? I don't think so, but ground rules need to be set by both parents and step parents. If there is too much hostility between the adults who parted how do you think the kids will react. That is just it-they react, not respond. So do adults. Calm down everyone.
Maybe one thing you bring to the table is ask the kids how they feel about everything. Come to some agreements and show that you do care about how they feel. Also just a suggestion, go to church as a family. You may be different religions or none at all, so start. Go to a non-denominational church. Don't start off going during a holiday. It' so busy you get lost and most people don't even notice you-unless you sign a guest book, ask for a visit or to volunteer. Now remember this is my opinion. The Christmas holiday is coming up soon and if theres' one thing most of us know it's, Joy To The World, so don't listen to me, go to church and mend those fences before they fall down completely.
To those who might read this , if I'm wrong(hardly ever:)) add something better and more positive. There are many parents and step mom and dads who could use some good advice as well as all of those hurting and confused kids.
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.
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.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Brooklyn, Those 59th st. Kids, Rock n' Roll
They were the best ever. I know if you're from Brooklyn you'll remember this too. Up the block from our building at 328-59th st. was a school, P.S. 140 and around the corner P.S. 118. Little did I know as a kid just what those buildings would become to me.
Going to start from third avenue and up and around. I remember well the Korn and Alwell families. I don't want to over state this but pretty sure each family had seventeen and nineteen kids. I do know and remember very well which family had kids who other kids seemed to be afraid of, and nope not saying which one. Me? I liked them all, but yeah, I was still shaking in my shoes when one girl in particular came around. In Later years I re met a few on line and now can say I think I was just a plain ol' scaredy cat!
My block was on a down hill street, like in San Francisco? You could look down and see the New York Harbor, and during the night hear the fog horns from ships passing through. I loved that sound. It made me dream. When kids think they can't dream because of where they live and who they live with, well all it takes sometimes is a fog horn. I used to dream of going to Norway and Switzerland. I wanted to see those giant snow covered mountains and hear people talk with those so kool accents, see the costumes during festivals and celebrations, and trolls at Trondheim park. I really wanted to see Santa Claus in Norway and feel that cold Norwegian air.
We had such big apartment buildings you would think how do you ever get to know everyone. Well you do, but you just know them all differently.
The first two girl friends were Barb and Helen. Now if I recall right, Barb was more my sisters' friend and Helen mine. But just about every day in the summer they would walk up and across the cobblestones street and sit on the stoop, or we'd walk down to their stoop. As a kid I was amazed at the friendships, and many times I'd take a back seat and listen to them all yak so much. I was more of a giggler. I could laugh at anything. Now that made people mad, which made me laugh more, especially in church. I still do that, so I have to get up and leave. Oh well. One day years later on a train in Brooklyn when I was still scared of my own shadow, I was telling Barb about this perv who would get close to me and rub his briefcase up my back, and me? Well I would move and then he would move, all teh way until I got off at my stop or changed trains. Then it happened with Barb there. It was so rare that anyone stood up for me, I wasn't sure that's what it was until aftre I got off the train.
I see the perv coming near me and tell Barb. She tells me quietly don't move. He starts, my eyes get big and I get stiff as a board in fear and suddenly Barb brings attention to him and what he's doing. She yells out loud, what teh hell do you think you're doing you sicko? You keep your hands off her! Every day you do this, get the hell off the train! She said a few other things too, but, uh you know, words kind of crude. Wish I could have said them:)
He moved and she made us move too, following him for a change. Boy that was so, so kool. He got off at the next stop and never bothered me again. barb got off teh train before me and when my stop came, I floated up the steps, just feeling lighter, thankful and wondered how she had such courage. As I neared my building on Broadway aross from what was going to be the Twin Towers, I walked over to teh new site, looked at the pictures and thought, I bet Barb feels that high now. to me she was like superwoman. I'll never forget, Thanks Barb!
Then there were the characters of adults in my building. Burt who wore an eye patch, withdrawn cheeks kind of like Jack Palance, and of course Pete across the hall from our family. Pete lived with his "aunt" Helen, uh huh we thought, some aunt. She probably really was. Poor old aunt Helen about ninety, white hair sticking up and balding always wore only a long white slip with one strap always slipping off a shoulder.You remember that too don't ya? She always seemed to cling to things like she stuck her finger in a socket. Pete smoked stinky cigars and had lots of cats. Many nights he was seen carrying a big brown bag of large cans of beer. We knew that meant he'd be calling, yelling and meowing with the cats, feeding them all night long.
Then there was a big family on the top floor, not mentioning their names. Poor family, not as in money, but sad. The youngest girl was always messing her pants, digging and digging and scratching her head. That family had lice more than anyone I think and we were told to stay away from then. The old man as he was known was a pot-bellied beer drinker just about every night. He threw garbage out the window, landed on our clothes lines and boy if anything got my mother mad, that was it!
Up the stairs she'd go, knocking on the door and tell who ever answered that she just washed clothes and..and ya know what she got in return? More trashdumped out the window. They just seemed not to care. Old man also peed out his window all the time. Us kids stayed out of that alley way. Oh by the way, we finally did solve the trash out the window problem -after a few more weeks of Old man's trash throwing, some tenants saved all their trash. One day, and this was aftre his wife passed away, we knew he was sober and was doing wash and cooking, a rare thing but his son told us. So on that day we all went to the roof. Ah yeah, ya know what's coming. Only on eperson had wash hung out that day, Old man. Suddenly like a storm, our trash just flew from the cans landing on the lines all over his wash. That did stop him.
Now they had a son whose name I won't mention also, not even his first. He has such pretty eyes, longer than long eye-lashes, short dark hair and could throw a punch as good as any boxer on TV He loved his mom so much. When she'd walk down the street, looking beat tired carrying a bag of groceries after working all day, he'd run up and grab her bag, hold her arm and try to hug her all at once.
As I remember it, she died about forty of breast cancer. That didn't stop the little girl from messing her pants, peeing in all the baby carriages under the stairs, and picking her nose, wiping on baby carriage sheets. Things stayed the same, or at least they seemed to until I heard one day the brother who could throw a good punch had an operation. It turned out to be true and he is now she. I'll always remember him/her as a nice, good-hearted kid.
Continued later tonight...don't forget click an ad please
Going to start from third avenue and up and around. I remember well the Korn and Alwell families. I don't want to over state this but pretty sure each family had seventeen and nineteen kids. I do know and remember very well which family had kids who other kids seemed to be afraid of, and nope not saying which one. Me? I liked them all, but yeah, I was still shaking in my shoes when one girl in particular came around. In Later years I re met a few on line and now can say I think I was just a plain ol' scaredy cat!
My block was on a down hill street, like in San Francisco? You could look down and see the New York Harbor, and during the night hear the fog horns from ships passing through. I loved that sound. It made me dream. When kids think they can't dream because of where they live and who they live with, well all it takes sometimes is a fog horn. I used to dream of going to Norway and Switzerland. I wanted to see those giant snow covered mountains and hear people talk with those so kool accents, see the costumes during festivals and celebrations, and trolls at Trondheim park. I really wanted to see Santa Claus in Norway and feel that cold Norwegian air.
We had such big apartment buildings you would think how do you ever get to know everyone. Well you do, but you just know them all differently.
The first two girl friends were Barb and Helen. Now if I recall right, Barb was more my sisters' friend and Helen mine. But just about every day in the summer they would walk up and across the cobblestones street and sit on the stoop, or we'd walk down to their stoop. As a kid I was amazed at the friendships, and many times I'd take a back seat and listen to them all yak so much. I was more of a giggler. I could laugh at anything. Now that made people mad, which made me laugh more, especially in church. I still do that, so I have to get up and leave. Oh well. One day years later on a train in Brooklyn when I was still scared of my own shadow, I was telling Barb about this perv who would get close to me and rub his briefcase up my back, and me? Well I would move and then he would move, all teh way until I got off at my stop or changed trains. Then it happened with Barb there. It was so rare that anyone stood up for me, I wasn't sure that's what it was until aftre I got off the train.
I see the perv coming near me and tell Barb. She tells me quietly don't move. He starts, my eyes get big and I get stiff as a board in fear and suddenly Barb brings attention to him and what he's doing. She yells out loud, what teh hell do you think you're doing you sicko? You keep your hands off her! Every day you do this, get the hell off the train! She said a few other things too, but, uh you know, words kind of crude. Wish I could have said them:)
He moved and she made us move too, following him for a change. Boy that was so, so kool. He got off at the next stop and never bothered me again. barb got off teh train before me and when my stop came, I floated up the steps, just feeling lighter, thankful and wondered how she had such courage. As I neared my building on Broadway aross from what was going to be the Twin Towers, I walked over to teh new site, looked at the pictures and thought, I bet Barb feels that high now. to me she was like superwoman. I'll never forget, Thanks Barb!
Then there were the characters of adults in my building. Burt who wore an eye patch, withdrawn cheeks kind of like Jack Palance, and of course Pete across the hall from our family. Pete lived with his "aunt" Helen, uh huh we thought, some aunt. She probably really was. Poor old aunt Helen about ninety, white hair sticking up and balding always wore only a long white slip with one strap always slipping off a shoulder.You remember that too don't ya? She always seemed to cling to things like she stuck her finger in a socket. Pete smoked stinky cigars and had lots of cats. Many nights he was seen carrying a big brown bag of large cans of beer. We knew that meant he'd be calling, yelling and meowing with the cats, feeding them all night long.
Then there was a big family on the top floor, not mentioning their names. Poor family, not as in money, but sad. The youngest girl was always messing her pants, digging and digging and scratching her head. That family had lice more than anyone I think and we were told to stay away from then. The old man as he was known was a pot-bellied beer drinker just about every night. He threw garbage out the window, landed on our clothes lines and boy if anything got my mother mad, that was it!
Up the stairs she'd go, knocking on the door and tell who ever answered that she just washed clothes and..and ya know what she got in return? More trashdumped out the window. They just seemed not to care. Old man also peed out his window all the time. Us kids stayed out of that alley way. Oh by the way, we finally did solve the trash out the window problem -after a few more weeks of Old man's trash throwing, some tenants saved all their trash. One day, and this was aftre his wife passed away, we knew he was sober and was doing wash and cooking, a rare thing but his son told us. So on that day we all went to the roof. Ah yeah, ya know what's coming. Only on eperson had wash hung out that day, Old man. Suddenly like a storm, our trash just flew from the cans landing on the lines all over his wash. That did stop him.
Now they had a son whose name I won't mention also, not even his first. He has such pretty eyes, longer than long eye-lashes, short dark hair and could throw a punch as good as any boxer on TV He loved his mom so much. When she'd walk down the street, looking beat tired carrying a bag of groceries after working all day, he'd run up and grab her bag, hold her arm and try to hug her all at once.
As I remember it, she died about forty of breast cancer. That didn't stop the little girl from messing her pants, peeing in all the baby carriages under the stairs, and picking her nose, wiping on baby carriage sheets. Things stayed the same, or at least they seemed to until I heard one day the brother who could throw a good punch had an operation. It turned out to be true and he is now she. I'll always remember him/her as a nice, good-hearted kid.
Continued later tonight...don't forget click an ad please
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Let me know, Please and as often as You Need
Yea! It's December first and the day is cool and clear. That alone puts me in a better mood which brings me to winter which is the holiday Season.
I would like to know what you want to know. You see, I love to research things and as an older person I have had many life experiences. Working in mental health taught me more about another side of life and I am grateful.
I have worked in New York City in bank as a proof operator, so you would never see me if you came in, but I loved that job and the people I worked with.
A favorite job I had for quite a long time was a meat wrapper, hard work, but paid well depending on where you lived. Other jobs were as a checker at a few grocery stores in Brooklyn NY. Then I decided to go into my own business as I always dreamed.
Those dreams work better if you're not as scattered as I was, sometimes I still am. In California I started a clean-up biz for new homes. Back breaking work to be sure, but again paid well, and I made mistakes to teach me how to do it better the next time. That I did here in Pennsylvania for a while, but my back just wouldn't hold out.
So I started a summer business, called Jenny's Sugar Shack. There's an idea to pass along. I rented a shed at a very, mini mall. The man who owned it was an appliance dealer. I was a single mom and he helped me set-up. It was perfect. It was also strawberry season so I started with shakes then strawberry everything, adding whipped cream and a topping. Early every morning I'd stop at a farm and buy cases of strawberries. My daughter loved working and helping. There was just one problem, well okay two. It was summer and I get migraines in the heat and lifting that shed door up just made my head pound more, closing early. The second and worst issue was what would I do after Strawberries were finished. I just didn't think far enough ahead.
So from my experiences, ask questions, let me know what you need.Maggieshelpcenter.com Ask me here or at Maggies. I'm here to help and please check out the ads on the blog site. You never know what treasure you may find on sale.
I would like to know what you want to know. You see, I love to research things and as an older person I have had many life experiences. Working in mental health taught me more about another side of life and I am grateful.
I have worked in New York City in bank as a proof operator, so you would never see me if you came in, but I loved that job and the people I worked with.
A favorite job I had for quite a long time was a meat wrapper, hard work, but paid well depending on where you lived. Other jobs were as a checker at a few grocery stores in Brooklyn NY. Then I decided to go into my own business as I always dreamed.
Those dreams work better if you're not as scattered as I was, sometimes I still am. In California I started a clean-up biz for new homes. Back breaking work to be sure, but again paid well, and I made mistakes to teach me how to do it better the next time. That I did here in Pennsylvania for a while, but my back just wouldn't hold out.
So I started a summer business, called Jenny's Sugar Shack. There's an idea to pass along. I rented a shed at a very, mini mall. The man who owned it was an appliance dealer. I was a single mom and he helped me set-up. It was perfect. It was also strawberry season so I started with shakes then strawberry everything, adding whipped cream and a topping. Early every morning I'd stop at a farm and buy cases of strawberries. My daughter loved working and helping. There was just one problem, well okay two. It was summer and I get migraines in the heat and lifting that shed door up just made my head pound more, closing early. The second and worst issue was what would I do after Strawberries were finished. I just didn't think far enough ahead.
So from my experiences, ask questions, let me know what you need.Maggieshelpcenter.com Ask me here or at Maggies. I'm here to help and please check out the ads on the blog site. You never know what treasure you may find on sale.
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