My Aunt passed away last week and was laid to rest. She was 93 years old. For 75 of those years she was a nun. The year after she graduated from high school she entered the convent of the Sisters of the Resurrection and she spent the rest of her life as a dedicated teacher. She traveled but spent the majority of her years just outside of Chicago at the mother house in Niles, IL. For part of the time she was there she was the Mother Superior of the house. Twice, in fact. And both times the house underwent major updating and renovation.
My Aunt, whose birth name was Anne became Sister Mary Loyola at age 18. She wore a full habit for her entire life. Even after Vatican II when some nuns changed to more secular clothing she and her sisters opted to retain the habit. Oh, over time it became shorter - to below the knees - and they did away with the wimple that encompassed their faces - they kept their veils covering their mandatory short hair.
Twice a year my Aunt, who we always called Sister, came to stay with us. She would come in summer and then again in winter, each time staying for a week. It was when school was out on break so she could get away and come for some rest and relaxation though staying with our big family could not have been much of either for her! I remember how she would often be awake in the night when she would hear sirens or traffic outside because her convent, though in the city, was far off the road and very well sheltered from such noise. Sleeping on her short vacations was, for her, a tad elusive. If the neighbors came home late and walked up the drive way she would be sure someone was breaking in to rob us. In this way, my Aunt had a certain kind of naiveté.
But she was also very smart and so funny! My mother and Aunt together would quip back and forth and giggle like little girls sometimes. They had a keen sense of humor that could be both biting but sharp and it would always take us off guard. In her later years, my Aunt taught herself to use the computer. She learned Windows and email and how to use the internet and she began communicating with family all over the world. She would use those skills long after she stopped teaching to continue to assist her Order with archiving their history and creating bulletins and programs for special occasions. She took on the daunting task of cataloging the Sisters massive library when she was well in her late 80s and she loved every minute of her busy life.
It was only later, in the last few years, she had to slow down. And then she passed away. I wasn't able to attend her funeral but I've been told that it was large! That many, many people - colleagues and former students - all came to pay their respects. And as sad as it is that she is gone I know that this is the moment my Aunt has prepared for her entire life. She believed in the resurrection and now she was living hers through her death. While I don't necessarily share her beliefs I celebrate her life and know that she is somewhere now with my mother and her other sister Sophie and her parents and others who have been waiting to greet her. That I do believe.
I know that in my life I have been absolutely blessed to have remarkable women as role models for all of my life. Sister Mary Loyola was one of them. I have such good memories of her. I'll cherish them - forever. Rest in Peace, Sister.
Love and prayers,
Mary Beth
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Monday, March 6, 2017
Monday, August 17, 2015
Good friends never get old...
I spent the day yesterday with some folks that I went to college with. We get together once a year and though it's usually a core group of us that makes the date the actual group size varies from 4 to 10 depending on life schedules and flight schedules and whatnot.
We eat and drink and talk and laugh far too much.
These people are my tribe.
They knew me when I was young and full of myself and my self doubts. They helped me understand that I could be anything but I was also nothing. They listened when I had almost something to say and let me know, in no uncertain terms, when I was full of shit. Our time together molded us into the people we are today. And though our lives have all taken very different paths we can still come together and feel those same familiar feelings of deep love, respect and good natured kidding with one another. Nobody knows me like they do. Not even family.
And, man, do I love them all.
I found myself sitting back for a time watching them as they chatted and laughed together and thinking how damn lucky I am to have happened across their path at that exact right time in that exact right place. Those hugs we gave when we said good bye until next year were tight and hard and warm and sincere. The very best kind. And to say the words, I love you, to each one of them was so easy.
I miss them already - Scott, Patty, Andy, Becky, Rhonda, Kim - and those who could not make it this year - JC, Jim, Gary and Lee - I miss them all.
Good friends, good times, good laughs, good memories...never get old. Ever.
We eat and drink and talk and laugh far too much.
These people are my tribe.
They knew me when I was young and full of myself and my self doubts. They helped me understand that I could be anything but I was also nothing. They listened when I had almost something to say and let me know, in no uncertain terms, when I was full of shit. Our time together molded us into the people we are today. And though our lives have all taken very different paths we can still come together and feel those same familiar feelings of deep love, respect and good natured kidding with one another. Nobody knows me like they do. Not even family.
And, man, do I love them all.
I found myself sitting back for a time watching them as they chatted and laughed together and thinking how damn lucky I am to have happened across their path at that exact right time in that exact right place. Those hugs we gave when we said good bye until next year were tight and hard and warm and sincere. The very best kind. And to say the words, I love you, to each one of them was so easy.
I miss them already - Scott, Patty, Andy, Becky, Rhonda, Kim - and those who could not make it this year - JC, Jim, Gary and Lee - I miss them all.
Good friends, good times, good laughs, good memories...never get old. Ever.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
And so this is Christmas...
I'm usually very merry this time of year. My entire life Christmas has been my holiday. I've never understood those that just can't seem to get into the spirit of things and yet, here I am this year, feeling a wee bit down in the dumps. Sort of. It's really strange. Everything I do to get ready for the holidays reminds me of my mom. I miss her so much this time of year. And deep down I am feeling clingy and wanting to be desperately close to family. I will be with them all on Christmas Day but we won't really have our "traditional" Christmas until New Years Day which means my personal celebration feels very disjointed and lonely. And then again not.
Everything I do to get ready for the holidays also brings with it that same childlike feeling of anticipation that I always get this time of year. That feeling of knowing that the tree with shine so beautifully and the cookies with be so sweet and the cider will taste so warm and mellow and the music will be so soothing. Everyone will be nicer. I love that. And I do feel that...mixed in with the melancholy.
It dawned on me that I am the one in my family that will always be the loner. I have Alex and that is all. They all have their kids and grandkids (some of them) and they all get together to have their own traditions. Alex and I do what we can and we do love our little Christmas time together but it's not really the same. It's hard for me, someone who has always been in the middle of an enormous family, to get used to. I feel a little left behind. Last night I dreamt that Alex left too. I woke up in the middle of the night with tears in my eyes and had to find his hand for comfort. Silly, I know...but sometimes, especially at this overly sentimental time of year, the heart does silly things.
I know, in the end, I will have a good Christmas. It will be filled with light and love and all good things. But now, in preparation, the thoughts and memories rush in and sometimes they overwhelm me.
Everything I do to get ready for the holidays also brings with it that same childlike feeling of anticipation that I always get this time of year. That feeling of knowing that the tree with shine so beautifully and the cookies with be so sweet and the cider will taste so warm and mellow and the music will be so soothing. Everyone will be nicer. I love that. And I do feel that...mixed in with the melancholy.
It dawned on me that I am the one in my family that will always be the loner. I have Alex and that is all. They all have their kids and grandkids (some of them) and they all get together to have their own traditions. Alex and I do what we can and we do love our little Christmas time together but it's not really the same. It's hard for me, someone who has always been in the middle of an enormous family, to get used to. I feel a little left behind. Last night I dreamt that Alex left too. I woke up in the middle of the night with tears in my eyes and had to find his hand for comfort. Silly, I know...but sometimes, especially at this overly sentimental time of year, the heart does silly things.
I know, in the end, I will have a good Christmas. It will be filled with light and love and all good things. But now, in preparation, the thoughts and memories rush in and sometimes they overwhelm me.
Monday, November 25, 2013
The days leading to Thanksgiving...
I can remember my mom making lists upon lists and checking them all three or four times before leaving the house to do the grocery encounter. It was more than just shopping for food. No, at this time of year, it was an adventure that was fueled by endless coupons for various stores scattered across Kenosha county. Kroger's had that good stuffing bread on sale with a coupon for a free gallon of milk and real butter. The Pig had potatoes and sweet potatoes on sale and their flour was the cheapest so for making pies that was the place to go. And Lakeview had 20 lb. turkeys for .19 cents a pound. We'd drive all over town and the end result was a trunk full of all the fixings for a grand Thanksgiving feast.
I remember my mom getting all the good dishes out of storage and washing them up, ready and waiting for the big day. The good glasses and good silverware also made an appearance. Once washed, this was all lined up on a side table.
I remember my mom washing the turkey, inside and out, and carefully removing the gizzards and neck bones that were hiding inside. She would take the old crank meat grinder out and, after lightly cooking them, grinds them all up to be added to the stuffing. She would chop onions and celery and garlic until the aroma took over the entire house. She'd mix that with the ground turkey innards and the good stuffing bread, now toasted and cubed, and pour in copious amounts of chicken stock and the water she cooked the innards in. She'd dig in up to her elbows and mix this all together. And then she'd set it aside.
I remember standing near the sink as she gave our turkey a gently bath. Running streams of hot water inside and out, rinsing out anything that just should be there. She placed the bird on a rack in a large roasting pan and then filled it's inside with the aromatic stuffing mixture. Next she'd cut a stick of real butter into chunks and poke each one up into the turkey between the skin and the meat. When done, the turkey would have pockets of yellow butter sticking out. She then would rub the whole thing down with salt, pepper and something called poultry seasoning. A little more stock was poured at the bottom of the plan and the whole thing was placed on a cookie sheet to make sure it was strong enough to hold this behemoth. And into the oven it would go. Gradually, throughout the day, the whole house smelled of warm turkey goodness. It was heavenly.
I remember my mom making green bean casserole, scalloped carrots, mashed potatoes and any number of other side dishes to go with the big bird. When I got older, she let me put together the relish tray. Cranberry sauce, 2 kinds, black and green olives, sweet and dill pickles all layed out on a decorative tray to be eaten with our meal. And when I was older still and allowed to help with the main meal she would say, "How's about we have a little Bloody Mary?" and I would be in charge of making the drinks which we would sip while we cooked and talked. And talked.
I remember talking to my mom while we were cooking. We'd talk about the meal, about our family, about people we both knew, about life, about our feelings, and about nothing at all.
These days, Thanksgiving is different. But it is no less precious. Because I know, from my memories and from today, that I have so much to be thankful for. And I will always remember that.
I remember my mom getting all the good dishes out of storage and washing them up, ready and waiting for the big day. The good glasses and good silverware also made an appearance. Once washed, this was all lined up on a side table.
I remember my mom washing the turkey, inside and out, and carefully removing the gizzards and neck bones that were hiding inside. She would take the old crank meat grinder out and, after lightly cooking them, grinds them all up to be added to the stuffing. She would chop onions and celery and garlic until the aroma took over the entire house. She'd mix that with the ground turkey innards and the good stuffing bread, now toasted and cubed, and pour in copious amounts of chicken stock and the water she cooked the innards in. She'd dig in up to her elbows and mix this all together. And then she'd set it aside.
I remember standing near the sink as she gave our turkey a gently bath. Running streams of hot water inside and out, rinsing out anything that just should be there. She placed the bird on a rack in a large roasting pan and then filled it's inside with the aromatic stuffing mixture. Next she'd cut a stick of real butter into chunks and poke each one up into the turkey between the skin and the meat. When done, the turkey would have pockets of yellow butter sticking out. She then would rub the whole thing down with salt, pepper and something called poultry seasoning. A little more stock was poured at the bottom of the plan and the whole thing was placed on a cookie sheet to make sure it was strong enough to hold this behemoth. And into the oven it would go. Gradually, throughout the day, the whole house smelled of warm turkey goodness. It was heavenly.
I remember my mom making green bean casserole, scalloped carrots, mashed potatoes and any number of other side dishes to go with the big bird. When I got older, she let me put together the relish tray. Cranberry sauce, 2 kinds, black and green olives, sweet and dill pickles all layed out on a decorative tray to be eaten with our meal. And when I was older still and allowed to help with the main meal she would say, "How's about we have a little Bloody Mary?" and I would be in charge of making the drinks which we would sip while we cooked and talked. And talked.
I remember talking to my mom while we were cooking. We'd talk about the meal, about our family, about people we both knew, about life, about our feelings, and about nothing at all.
These days, Thanksgiving is different. But it is no less precious. Because I know, from my memories and from today, that I have so much to be thankful for. And I will always remember that.
Friday, November 22, 2013
November 22...
I remember coming home, my baby sitter bringing me home, as she did every day. It seemed earlier than usual and she seemed to be in a bad mood. When we got home my Mom was there. That was different because she was always at work and I was never brought home until it was dinner time.
The TV was on in the living room and my Dad was sitting there watching it. This was also strange because he should be downstairs in our bar waiting for customers or deliveries. Everyone was very quiet. I wanted to watch cartoons but my Dad told me no so I sat down on the floor and pouted a while and then began playing with my toys. I heard my Mom crying in the kitchen for a short while. Then she brought me a sandwich and a cup of milk. She sat next to my Mom, sniffling, and watching the TV.
It seemed as thought the television was on non-stop for about a week. I remember watching the "parade". All of the soldiers marching and the big cars. There was a horse with no one riding it and it had boots stuck in the stirrups backwards which I thought was very funny. There was a pretty lady in a black veil and two little kids. I remember seeing one of them salute the parade. All the time we watched my Mom would cry off and on.
I would not know the significance of that day, November 22, until much later in my life. I would hear people ask, "Where were you when Kennedy got shot?" but I had no real reference for that memory. It wasn't until Sept. 11, 2001 that I understood how those who lived through it felt. "Where were you when the towers fell?"
We do that. We humans. We seek to understand but when there is so much emotional pain we can only point out a state of reference and use memories to normalize it all. Just as it made no sense that two planes were hijacked and so many people were killed. It made no sense that a brilliant young man, a President, who instilled such renewed hope in this country would be shot down in his prime. When there is no sense, there is only reference.
Where were you?
Where would we be if this had never happened at all?
Makes you wonder...
The TV was on in the living room and my Dad was sitting there watching it. This was also strange because he should be downstairs in our bar waiting for customers or deliveries. Everyone was very quiet. I wanted to watch cartoons but my Dad told me no so I sat down on the floor and pouted a while and then began playing with my toys. I heard my Mom crying in the kitchen for a short while. Then she brought me a sandwich and a cup of milk. She sat next to my Mom, sniffling, and watching the TV.
It seemed as thought the television was on non-stop for about a week. I remember watching the "parade". All of the soldiers marching and the big cars. There was a horse with no one riding it and it had boots stuck in the stirrups backwards which I thought was very funny. There was a pretty lady in a black veil and two little kids. I remember seeing one of them salute the parade. All the time we watched my Mom would cry off and on.
I would not know the significance of that day, November 22, until much later in my life. I would hear people ask, "Where were you when Kennedy got shot?" but I had no real reference for that memory. It wasn't until Sept. 11, 2001 that I understood how those who lived through it felt. "Where were you when the towers fell?"
We do that. We humans. We seek to understand but when there is so much emotional pain we can only point out a state of reference and use memories to normalize it all. Just as it made no sense that two planes were hijacked and so many people were killed. It made no sense that a brilliant young man, a President, who instilled such renewed hope in this country would be shot down in his prime. When there is no sense, there is only reference.
Where were you?
Where would we be if this had never happened at all?
Makes you wonder...
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Old friends revisited...
I had my day out with my old college friends. No matter how much time passes, we pick up right where we left off and it's as if we were never apart. I can honestly say I love these guys. We met at Linnea Bakery for coffee and sweet rolls. It was a beautiful sunny day so we sat outside and the laughing began. I never laugh as much as when I'm with these guys! We ended up sitting there for quite some time and before we knew it it was time to go to Parkside. I had arranged for a tour of the new theatre. Another old, dear friend who now works at Parkside met us and was our tour guide. Wow! Has UW - Parkside changed. The main theatre is still there and still looks great but there is a new smaller space too and two or three rehearsal spaces. The costume shop, where I spent many long hours, is no longer in the basement but has a beautiful new main floor home. It was awesome!
After our tour we headed back downtown and had a drink at the new Rustic Road Brewery. I had a killer Bloody Mary! Soon, it was time for dinner so we headed over to Ashling on the Lough for some authentic Irish food. This is probably my favorite restaurant in town. We were going to go to the Hob Nob but at the last minute they decided it might be too expensive so we changed it up. At Ashling, my god, we laughed. These guys are the more naturally funny people I know. I had tears in my eyes from laughter.
Next time, we hope more of the group can make it. We're going to pick a date and hope it's far enough in advance that everyone can be there. In the meantime, I have some great memories and Sunday just added to them. Old friends are really the best.
After our tour we headed back downtown and had a drink at the new Rustic Road Brewery. I had a killer Bloody Mary! Soon, it was time for dinner so we headed over to Ashling on the Lough for some authentic Irish food. This is probably my favorite restaurant in town. We were going to go to the Hob Nob but at the last minute they decided it might be too expensive so we changed it up. At Ashling, my god, we laughed. These guys are the more naturally funny people I know. I had tears in my eyes from laughter.
Next time, we hope more of the group can make it. We're going to pick a date and hope it's far enough in advance that everyone can be there. In the meantime, I have some great memories and Sunday just added to them. Old friends are really the best.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Old friends are the best friends...
This Sunday I'm getting together with a handful of people who were very instrumental in shaping the person I am today. No, they are not teachers or older/wiser relatives. They're the people I was closest to when I was going to UW-Parkside. They were my dearest friends.
I recall being very scared and naive when I started college. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. My mother hoped that I would be a teacher but, at that time, I really had no interest in that at all. All I knew that the best times I had in high school, and the times I felt like I learned the most, were those times when I was on stage. So, the first student orientation session I attended at Parkside, I went directly to the room marked "Theatre Arts". At the time, Parkside did not have a Theatre Arts major. I had to major in Communications and, actually, that has served me very well over the years. I was made to study a wide variety of subjects but the best time was the time on the Parkside stage. It was there that a rag tag group of fresh young faces, full of hopes and dreams and themselves, came together to exude creativity and perform. It was there I met my best friend and we're still best friends to this day. It was there I felt my first real crush on someone and also my first heart break. I'm so excited to see my friends this weekend. I know we'll laugh and remember all the great times and be just as grand and full of ourselves as we were back then. They taught me so much about myself by accepting me for who I am.
Rebecca - or Becky as we called her then. She came to school later than the rest of us. She was one of the "new kids" but it was clear she was talented and had a fresh wholesome appeal. She could also be incredibly silly and was always fun to be around. One day we discovered she could sing. No, not just sing...she had the most beautiful voice ever. So clear, so pure...like an angel. Becky fell in love easily and, being young, could always relate her matters of the heart to some film or play. She was dramatic but sweet and I love her. She lives on the east coast now and sings in a band.
Patty - I knew Patty from high school. We had done plays together there and a number of crazy variety shows. We also worked together for a summer or two at local parks as Park Playground Assistance. Patty is Italian and I remember going to her house at lunch time where her Nonna would be cooking. We'd always get fresh ravioli or spaghetti or, better yet, biscotti or cannoli! What a treat! Patty is a brilliant actress. She has a range of emotion that can just get me every time. She hasn't acted in a long time now but I'm sure if she had the chance that talent is still there. She's a great lady and great mom and I love her.
Andy - now called Drew. Andy came to school around the time Becky showed up. He was from Cudahy. He slouched when he walked like Groucho Marx but he had a full head of curly blond hair that swirled wildly. He was the most well read person I ever met. He knew plays inside and out and he could create characters at the drop of a hat. He is a brilliant actor and, consequently, the only one of us who's made the theatre his full time job. He now lives and works in Milwaukee but travels all over the country wherever a new job will take him. He's funny as hell too. We played opposite each other in The Matchmaker. I played Dolly Levi to his Horace Vandergelder. We spent long hours working together and getting to know one another. I love Andy. He will always be Andy to me.
Scott - I don't know exactly when I met Scott because it feels like I've always known Scott. He quickly became my best friend and, even though I don't see him or speak to him that often, I still feel like he's my best friend. He's one of those people who you can go a whole year with no contact and then when you do, it's like you never left off. We did everything together while we were in school. We were in all the same plays. We carpooled together. We went out on the weekends together. We shared all of our deepest secrets. My Mom always thought Scott was my boyfriend even when I told her he was gay! She said she was sure that was just a phase for him which meant she really liked Scott and hoped he was my boyfriend! After we graduated Scott and I moved to Chicago together and lived together for four years. It was only when I decided to move back to Wisconsin that we separated. But our bond is strong. He was there for me when my Dad died and I was there when his mother passed away. We have had knock down drag out fights but can never really be mad at one another. I love Scott and always will.
I can't wait to see this group again. Becky can't make it for Sunday but she might be in town next week so I hope I can see her then. I know that on Sunday we'll have no end to our conversation. We have never been accused of being quiet. These are some of the best people I know. Some of the best in the world I should say. And I am so lucky to have them in my life.
I recall being very scared and naive when I started college. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. My mother hoped that I would be a teacher but, at that time, I really had no interest in that at all. All I knew that the best times I had in high school, and the times I felt like I learned the most, were those times when I was on stage. So, the first student orientation session I attended at Parkside, I went directly to the room marked "Theatre Arts". At the time, Parkside did not have a Theatre Arts major. I had to major in Communications and, actually, that has served me very well over the years. I was made to study a wide variety of subjects but the best time was the time on the Parkside stage. It was there that a rag tag group of fresh young faces, full of hopes and dreams and themselves, came together to exude creativity and perform. It was there I met my best friend and we're still best friends to this day. It was there I felt my first real crush on someone and also my first heart break. I'm so excited to see my friends this weekend. I know we'll laugh and remember all the great times and be just as grand and full of ourselves as we were back then. They taught me so much about myself by accepting me for who I am.
Rebecca - or Becky as we called her then. She came to school later than the rest of us. She was one of the "new kids" but it was clear she was talented and had a fresh wholesome appeal. She could also be incredibly silly and was always fun to be around. One day we discovered she could sing. No, not just sing...she had the most beautiful voice ever. So clear, so pure...like an angel. Becky fell in love easily and, being young, could always relate her matters of the heart to some film or play. She was dramatic but sweet and I love her. She lives on the east coast now and sings in a band.
Patty - I knew Patty from high school. We had done plays together there and a number of crazy variety shows. We also worked together for a summer or two at local parks as Park Playground Assistance. Patty is Italian and I remember going to her house at lunch time where her Nonna would be cooking. We'd always get fresh ravioli or spaghetti or, better yet, biscotti or cannoli! What a treat! Patty is a brilliant actress. She has a range of emotion that can just get me every time. She hasn't acted in a long time now but I'm sure if she had the chance that talent is still there. She's a great lady and great mom and I love her.
Andy - now called Drew. Andy came to school around the time Becky showed up. He was from Cudahy. He slouched when he walked like Groucho Marx but he had a full head of curly blond hair that swirled wildly. He was the most well read person I ever met. He knew plays inside and out and he could create characters at the drop of a hat. He is a brilliant actor and, consequently, the only one of us who's made the theatre his full time job. He now lives and works in Milwaukee but travels all over the country wherever a new job will take him. He's funny as hell too. We played opposite each other in The Matchmaker. I played Dolly Levi to his Horace Vandergelder. We spent long hours working together and getting to know one another. I love Andy. He will always be Andy to me.
Scott - I don't know exactly when I met Scott because it feels like I've always known Scott. He quickly became my best friend and, even though I don't see him or speak to him that often, I still feel like he's my best friend. He's one of those people who you can go a whole year with no contact and then when you do, it's like you never left off. We did everything together while we were in school. We were in all the same plays. We carpooled together. We went out on the weekends together. We shared all of our deepest secrets. My Mom always thought Scott was my boyfriend even when I told her he was gay! She said she was sure that was just a phase for him which meant she really liked Scott and hoped he was my boyfriend! After we graduated Scott and I moved to Chicago together and lived together for four years. It was only when I decided to move back to Wisconsin that we separated. But our bond is strong. He was there for me when my Dad died and I was there when his mother passed away. We have had knock down drag out fights but can never really be mad at one another. I love Scott and always will.
I can't wait to see this group again. Becky can't make it for Sunday but she might be in town next week so I hope I can see her then. I know that on Sunday we'll have no end to our conversation. We have never been accused of being quiet. These are some of the best people I know. Some of the best in the world I should say. And I am so lucky to have them in my life.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
My Dad...
I've written many things about my Dad. He was a good man, a protector, a provider and a listener. He was also a jokester who loved life and often would pull silly pranks on us kids. This first photo was taken on vacation in Eagle River, WI. My mom and I ended up sharing a bed because he snored so loudly. Our bed was a pitiful excuse for a bed. It slagged down in the middle and we got no good sleep all week. This is my Dad in his good bed pretending to sleep all rested and sweet. You can tell he's pretending because of the shit eating grin on his face!
My Dad loved to fish. Whenever we went up north he would sit for hours with a pole and a bobber. This is one of my favorite photos of him. One time he rowed out onto the lake to fish. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He sat out there all day and when he came back it was evident he had the worst sunburn ever! He had second degree burns on his legs and had to sit in the shade with cold, wet towels on them in order to relieve the pain. He learned from that and never went out without sunscreen again!
My Dad always looked good in a suit. Here he is just before my sister's wedding - ruffly tuxedo shirt and all. He was my escort to the Father Daughter Dinner Dance when I was in high school. He had a rust colored polyester leisure suit back then and he thought he was going to wear that to the dance. Thankfully, my mother intervene and made him go out and buy a dark blue suit.
My Dad's sense of humor extended to the patrons of our bar, which he ran. He would send away for some strange exotic candy, like dark chocolate covered grasshoppers, and he would keep them behind the bar. When one of the regulars would come in he would "offer" them a piece of candy and watch while they ate it. Then he would take great delight in telling them it was a bug! Many regulars vowed to get him back but they never did.
I miss my Dad very much. I think of him often.
Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you!
Monday, May 27, 2013
Remembering...
Today is Memorial Day here in the US. It's a day set aside each year to remember those who've gone before, mostly with an emphasis on those who've lost their lives in the armed forces. So today I will remember some of my loved ones.
My Dad - I've written a bit about him before. He was a kind, generous man who worked hard for his family. He was also a lover of mischief and could give as good as he got!
Uncle Ted - AKA Michael - My Dad's brother and best buddy. They golfed every Tuesday in the Senior League at Muni up until the year my Dad got sick. They'd count each other strokes studiously and then argue about their scores between each hole. It was a ritual with them!
Aunt Evelyn - Uncle Ted's wife - the women barely spoke above a whisper and when she did it was only to remind Uncle Ted to remember to tell us something. She'd never just say it herself. I never understood that!
Aunt Myrtle - Dad's sister - she married late, staying at home to take care of Grandma, and then when she married, she married well! Her first husband was a railroad man and she inherited a lot of money. Her second husband was with the Kraft Corp. and she inherited even more! She used to bring my mom clothes she didn't want anymore and my mom would always says, "Aunt Myrt's hand me downs are better than my regular clothes!"
Aunt Hazel - Dad's other sister - How I loved my Aunt Hazel! She was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting and always smelled of fresh baked bread and lilacs. I adored her.
Uncle Leo - my Mom's brother in law - Leo Boname - a philosophical French Canadian who ran on his own time much to the chagrin of my Aunt Mayme. Uncle Leo had a rolling Frenchish brogue and smoked a pipe that smelled of cherries and tobacco. He loved telling stories and that made him a favorite of mine! If Danny Kaye and Albert Einstein had a love child it would Uncle Leo.
Uncle Buster and Uncle Bill - Actually, these two weren't my uncles at all. They were my cousins but they were so much closer in age to my parents that we just called them "uncle" all the time. Bus and Bill, brothers who loved life. Both served in the military. WWII - Bill over in Europe and Bus in the East. Bus was nearly killed when his ship was attacked. Thankfully, both came home and had families and friends and full lives.
Myrle Jane - Buster and Bill's sister - also a cousin to me. Myrle was a WAVE! She served in the Navy post war. My mom used to have a beautiful photo of her in her uniform. She looked so pretty in that photo!
There are more, many more, Aunts and Uncles and Grandparents that have passed on. But these are the ones that were special to me because I remember visiting with them and talking with them. The others, I never really knew. They either passed away long before I was born or we just never had the chance to meet in life. As I think of these ghosts from my past so many other memories come through. Not just the time spent with each of them but the trips we took as a family to get there, who was with us and how long we stayed and other things that happened while we were there. I used to love those family trips. Such a production to get there but so worth it once we were there.
Happy Memorial Day!
My Dad - I've written a bit about him before. He was a kind, generous man who worked hard for his family. He was also a lover of mischief and could give as good as he got!
Uncle Ted - AKA Michael - My Dad's brother and best buddy. They golfed every Tuesday in the Senior League at Muni up until the year my Dad got sick. They'd count each other strokes studiously and then argue about their scores between each hole. It was a ritual with them!
Aunt Evelyn - Uncle Ted's wife - the women barely spoke above a whisper and when she did it was only to remind Uncle Ted to remember to tell us something. She'd never just say it herself. I never understood that!
Aunt Myrtle - Dad's sister - she married late, staying at home to take care of Grandma, and then when she married, she married well! Her first husband was a railroad man and she inherited a lot of money. Her second husband was with the Kraft Corp. and she inherited even more! She used to bring my mom clothes she didn't want anymore and my mom would always says, "Aunt Myrt's hand me downs are better than my regular clothes!"
Aunt Hazel - Dad's other sister - How I loved my Aunt Hazel! She was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting and always smelled of fresh baked bread and lilacs. I adored her.
Uncle Leo - my Mom's brother in law - Leo Boname - a philosophical French Canadian who ran on his own time much to the chagrin of my Aunt Mayme. Uncle Leo had a rolling Frenchish brogue and smoked a pipe that smelled of cherries and tobacco. He loved telling stories and that made him a favorite of mine! If Danny Kaye and Albert Einstein had a love child it would Uncle Leo.
Uncle Buster and Uncle Bill - Actually, these two weren't my uncles at all. They were my cousins but they were so much closer in age to my parents that we just called them "uncle" all the time. Bus and Bill, brothers who loved life. Both served in the military. WWII - Bill over in Europe and Bus in the East. Bus was nearly killed when his ship was attacked. Thankfully, both came home and had families and friends and full lives.
Myrle Jane - Buster and Bill's sister - also a cousin to me. Myrle was a WAVE! She served in the Navy post war. My mom used to have a beautiful photo of her in her uniform. She looked so pretty in that photo!
There are more, many more, Aunts and Uncles and Grandparents that have passed on. But these are the ones that were special to me because I remember visiting with them and talking with them. The others, I never really knew. They either passed away long before I was born or we just never had the chance to meet in life. As I think of these ghosts from my past so many other memories come through. Not just the time spent with each of them but the trips we took as a family to get there, who was with us and how long we stayed and other things that happened while we were there. I used to love those family trips. Such a production to get there but so worth it once we were there.
Happy Memorial Day!
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Three people I will never forget...
When you stop to think about your life, you have to remember those people who somehow influenced, good or bad, and helped make you the person you are today. When I think of my life I can remember many influential people. Some were influential for what they taught me, some for how they lived their lives, and some just for being who they were. I'm going to talk about three of those people today. Three people that somehow touched me and I will never forget them.
Uncle Bill Whelan -
My Uncle Bill Whelan was my Auntie Hazel's second husband. I was pretty young when we would go see them at their home in Waukon, Iowa. Now, my Auntie Hazel was something out of a Better Homes and Gardens Magazine circa 1955. She always wore a pretty cotton house dress with an ever present apron. She had eye glasses that she must have gotten in the mid-50's and just kept from that moment on. They were dark brimmed with a slight cat eye. She was always cooking in the kitchen when we visited. A kind soul, soft spoken and very sweet. Uncle Bill was even quieter. He was a short roly poly balding man who always seemed a little grey in every way. He would smile at Auntie Hazel as if the sun rose and set in her very presence. I recall one summer, on our annual trip to see them, that his eye sight had gotten very bad. He was going blind and it was hard to watch him enter a room, unaware anyone was there, and flip the light switch on and off and on again in the hopes that he would suddenly see better with the light on. That summer was hot and my cousins were no where to be found. I don't quite remember where they were but I was a little bored and a whole lot hot. My Dad, Mom, Auntie Hazel and Uncle Bill's daughter Julie were all playing cards. Uncle Bill couldn't see well enough to play. I lazily wandered out to the front porch and sat, bored, on the porch swing. A short while later the creaky screen door opened and Uncle Bill came out and sat next to me. He had two large glasses of ice cold lemonade. The good homemade kind with real lemons. We sat quietly swinging for a while and then he said, "A little boring here, isn't it?" I agreed. Uncle Bill took my hand and led me to his car. Yes, even though he was legally blind he was still driving! No kidding! There was only one place he drove to anymore and there was absolutely no traffic on the lonely country roads he took. He was driving me to his farm! Uncle Bill had a farm house and a barn and a bit of land not far outside of Waukon. It was in a pretty isolated area so there really were no other cars on the road. He rented the farm house out to a family who looked after his animals there. When we got there we went into the barn and he started to saddle a beautiful pale horse. Even though he couldn't see much anymore, he instinctively knew how to do this. I got to ride that horse all afternoon while Uncle Bill waited in the shade of a nearby tree. He didn't care how long I road and I was never happier! That was the highlight of my trip! When we got back to Aunt Hazel's a few hours later, my Mom and Dad were frantic! They knew Uncle Bill could barely see two feet in front of him yet he had driven me at least 15 miles to the farm! Aunt Hazel poo-pooed the whole ordeal claiming, "Oh everyone knows to get out of his way if they see him coming!" I'll never forget my Uncle Bill for recognizing a little kid's boredom and making it a day to remember!
2. Mr. Freeman -
From the time I was born until I was about 10, we lived above my parents bar and restaurant, Kelly's Tavern. Right next door there was a small auto garage run by an African American man named Mr. Freeman. To get to my best friend Janet's house I had to pass his place every day and very soon I took to stopping in to say hello. This was in the late 60s so a little white girl and a grown black man were unlikely friends. But we were. Every time I stopped in his shop, he would stop what he was doing and chat with me. I could tell him anything and ask him his opinion on anything. Things like "what do you think about a mom and dad that won't get their daughter a new Barbie" and "if you wanted to go to Paddock Lake with the neighbors but you knew you had chores what would you do?" Mr. Freeman was a font of knowledge and advice to me. Somedays, I would take two bottles of Coke from the bar and take them to Mr. Freeman's. He would open the bag lunch his wife made him and share half with me and I would give him a Coke and we would talk and talk. He never made me feel like I was intruding or like I was a kid! One day his son came in. He was in his 20's and was, what you might call, a "militant" black youth. He looked at me with a cold stare and started yelling at his father about "white honkies" and "little white bitch". I assumed he meant me and it scared me. Mr. Freeman got very loud and told his son to leave. After he was gone, I sat very quietly for a while. Mr. Freeman told me that in his lifetime there have always been people who hated him because of the color of his skin. He said that was very wrong and that everyone should be able to be friendly and get along. He said he never wanted me to be afraid of anyone because of their skin color and he hoped that I would always have friends who were different than me. Then he added, "Just like me!" Mr. Freeman walked me next door to the bar where my dad was working. He told my dad what had happened and how scared I was. I watched as my dad and Mr. Freeman shook hands. Then, when he was leaving, he gave me a hug and said, "See you tomorrow! I think we're having my wife's meat loaf for lunch." Mr. Freeman was the first person of color I had ever known and his kindness and readiness to spend time with a little white girl taught me a huge lesson in love, tolerance and acceptance. He's the reason that, to this day, I am appalled at racism and hatred that still exists in this country. Life's way to short to pass by the opportunity to have a dear friend like Mr. Freeman just because of the color of his skin. And I hope that somewhere his son learned this lesson too.
3. Lee VanDyke -
Years later, I attended the University of Wisconsin - Parkside. I was majoring in Communications with an emphasis on Theatre Arts. I was acting. I auditioned for every show from the moment I started my college years. During my last two years there, a teacher/director named Lee VanDyke was hired. Lee saw in me aspects that I didn't even know I had. He cast me in roles that challenged me and he made me a better actress. During the summer months, he would direct a short season of summer plays. I auditioned for those too and got cast in those as well. It was during the run of one of these summer seasons that my dad passed away. His passing was not a surprise. He had been ill will leukemia for some time. We had just finished the first weekend of shows and had a pick up rehearsal on that following Thursday. The morning of that rehearsal my Dad passed away and I was devastated. No matter how well prepared you think you are, when you're dad passes, you realize nothing can ever really prepare you for it. I called Lee and told him. He said he would leave it up to me but if I didn't make rehearsal that night it was okay and perfectly understandable. I just couldn't do it so I skipped the rehearsal but I knew I could not skip the show. The cast and crew were counting on me as were the people who had already purchases tickets. As they always say, "The show must go on." That Friday night I showed up to get in costume and make up. I was running on fumes, numb and not really sure what I was doing. I was putting on a brave front but inside I was screaming. Before the show, Lee came to me and took me aside. He pressed a note into my hand. It said that he knew my Dad would be proud of me as he often saw the look of pride on his face when my Dad came to see me act. He also said that he was proud of me and that even though no words would ever take away the hurt I was feeling inside, he knew that I would go on and be strong and be great. And I did. I went out on that stage and before I knew it the show was over. I mean I seriously did not have a single memory of a minute on that stage. But at the curtain call, the audience erupted in loud applause and everyone stood for a standing ovation! It was the first time that ever happened and I was amazed! I had done the best performance of my college career and it was at a time that I couldn't feel much more than sorrow. I've kept that note from Lee. And I still have contact with him on Facebook. He is a very special person, a mentor, a teacher, and a friend who took a scared, sad girl and challenged her to become everything she could be. I will never forget his kindness, his humor and his smarts. He had a great influence on my life.
So there they are. Three people whom I will never forget. I'm sure there are so many more! I thank all of the great influences in my life and hope that I have, in some small way, influenced someone else in their life too.
Uncle Bill Whelan -
My Uncle Bill Whelan was my Auntie Hazel's second husband. I was pretty young when we would go see them at their home in Waukon, Iowa. Now, my Auntie Hazel was something out of a Better Homes and Gardens Magazine circa 1955. She always wore a pretty cotton house dress with an ever present apron. She had eye glasses that she must have gotten in the mid-50's and just kept from that moment on. They were dark brimmed with a slight cat eye. She was always cooking in the kitchen when we visited. A kind soul, soft spoken and very sweet. Uncle Bill was even quieter. He was a short roly poly balding man who always seemed a little grey in every way. He would smile at Auntie Hazel as if the sun rose and set in her very presence. I recall one summer, on our annual trip to see them, that his eye sight had gotten very bad. He was going blind and it was hard to watch him enter a room, unaware anyone was there, and flip the light switch on and off and on again in the hopes that he would suddenly see better with the light on. That summer was hot and my cousins were no where to be found. I don't quite remember where they were but I was a little bored and a whole lot hot. My Dad, Mom, Auntie Hazel and Uncle Bill's daughter Julie were all playing cards. Uncle Bill couldn't see well enough to play. I lazily wandered out to the front porch and sat, bored, on the porch swing. A short while later the creaky screen door opened and Uncle Bill came out and sat next to me. He had two large glasses of ice cold lemonade. The good homemade kind with real lemons. We sat quietly swinging for a while and then he said, "A little boring here, isn't it?" I agreed. Uncle Bill took my hand and led me to his car. Yes, even though he was legally blind he was still driving! No kidding! There was only one place he drove to anymore and there was absolutely no traffic on the lonely country roads he took. He was driving me to his farm! Uncle Bill had a farm house and a barn and a bit of land not far outside of Waukon. It was in a pretty isolated area so there really were no other cars on the road. He rented the farm house out to a family who looked after his animals there. When we got there we went into the barn and he started to saddle a beautiful pale horse. Even though he couldn't see much anymore, he instinctively knew how to do this. I got to ride that horse all afternoon while Uncle Bill waited in the shade of a nearby tree. He didn't care how long I road and I was never happier! That was the highlight of my trip! When we got back to Aunt Hazel's a few hours later, my Mom and Dad were frantic! They knew Uncle Bill could barely see two feet in front of him yet he had driven me at least 15 miles to the farm! Aunt Hazel poo-pooed the whole ordeal claiming, "Oh everyone knows to get out of his way if they see him coming!" I'll never forget my Uncle Bill for recognizing a little kid's boredom and making it a day to remember!
2. Mr. Freeman -
From the time I was born until I was about 10, we lived above my parents bar and restaurant, Kelly's Tavern. Right next door there was a small auto garage run by an African American man named Mr. Freeman. To get to my best friend Janet's house I had to pass his place every day and very soon I took to stopping in to say hello. This was in the late 60s so a little white girl and a grown black man were unlikely friends. But we were. Every time I stopped in his shop, he would stop what he was doing and chat with me. I could tell him anything and ask him his opinion on anything. Things like "what do you think about a mom and dad that won't get their daughter a new Barbie" and "if you wanted to go to Paddock Lake with the neighbors but you knew you had chores what would you do?" Mr. Freeman was a font of knowledge and advice to me. Somedays, I would take two bottles of Coke from the bar and take them to Mr. Freeman's. He would open the bag lunch his wife made him and share half with me and I would give him a Coke and we would talk and talk. He never made me feel like I was intruding or like I was a kid! One day his son came in. He was in his 20's and was, what you might call, a "militant" black youth. He looked at me with a cold stare and started yelling at his father about "white honkies" and "little white bitch". I assumed he meant me and it scared me. Mr. Freeman got very loud and told his son to leave. After he was gone, I sat very quietly for a while. Mr. Freeman told me that in his lifetime there have always been people who hated him because of the color of his skin. He said that was very wrong and that everyone should be able to be friendly and get along. He said he never wanted me to be afraid of anyone because of their skin color and he hoped that I would always have friends who were different than me. Then he added, "Just like me!" Mr. Freeman walked me next door to the bar where my dad was working. He told my dad what had happened and how scared I was. I watched as my dad and Mr. Freeman shook hands. Then, when he was leaving, he gave me a hug and said, "See you tomorrow! I think we're having my wife's meat loaf for lunch." Mr. Freeman was the first person of color I had ever known and his kindness and readiness to spend time with a little white girl taught me a huge lesson in love, tolerance and acceptance. He's the reason that, to this day, I am appalled at racism and hatred that still exists in this country. Life's way to short to pass by the opportunity to have a dear friend like Mr. Freeman just because of the color of his skin. And I hope that somewhere his son learned this lesson too.
3. Lee VanDyke -
Years later, I attended the University of Wisconsin - Parkside. I was majoring in Communications with an emphasis on Theatre Arts. I was acting. I auditioned for every show from the moment I started my college years. During my last two years there, a teacher/director named Lee VanDyke was hired. Lee saw in me aspects that I didn't even know I had. He cast me in roles that challenged me and he made me a better actress. During the summer months, he would direct a short season of summer plays. I auditioned for those too and got cast in those as well. It was during the run of one of these summer seasons that my dad passed away. His passing was not a surprise. He had been ill will leukemia for some time. We had just finished the first weekend of shows and had a pick up rehearsal on that following Thursday. The morning of that rehearsal my Dad passed away and I was devastated. No matter how well prepared you think you are, when you're dad passes, you realize nothing can ever really prepare you for it. I called Lee and told him. He said he would leave it up to me but if I didn't make rehearsal that night it was okay and perfectly understandable. I just couldn't do it so I skipped the rehearsal but I knew I could not skip the show. The cast and crew were counting on me as were the people who had already purchases tickets. As they always say, "The show must go on." That Friday night I showed up to get in costume and make up. I was running on fumes, numb and not really sure what I was doing. I was putting on a brave front but inside I was screaming. Before the show, Lee came to me and took me aside. He pressed a note into my hand. It said that he knew my Dad would be proud of me as he often saw the look of pride on his face when my Dad came to see me act. He also said that he was proud of me and that even though no words would ever take away the hurt I was feeling inside, he knew that I would go on and be strong and be great. And I did. I went out on that stage and before I knew it the show was over. I mean I seriously did not have a single memory of a minute on that stage. But at the curtain call, the audience erupted in loud applause and everyone stood for a standing ovation! It was the first time that ever happened and I was amazed! I had done the best performance of my college career and it was at a time that I couldn't feel much more than sorrow. I've kept that note from Lee. And I still have contact with him on Facebook. He is a very special person, a mentor, a teacher, and a friend who took a scared, sad girl and challenged her to become everything she could be. I will never forget his kindness, his humor and his smarts. He had a great influence on my life.
So there they are. Three people whom I will never forget. I'm sure there are so many more! I thank all of the great influences in my life and hope that I have, in some small way, influenced someone else in their life too.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Remembering....
I'm sitting here tonight watching movies on Netflix. Streaming one about Quentin Crisp right now. Which takes place in the 80s which started my journey to the trim in my own life and that brought me to thinking about my friend Dave. It's not such a leap really. A lot of the movie about Quentin Crisp had to do with the beginning of social awareness of AIDS in the 80s and my friend Dave, rest his soul, died of AIDS in the early 90s.
I met Dave at UW-Parkside. We were theatre majors and met when we were cast in some shows there. We hit it off instantly. Dave could be so funny and we had many hysterical adventures, he and I. We also had some great heart to heart talks. We could talk about anything and everything but the one thing Dave never talked about to me was the fact that he was gay.
After we graduated, we both lived in Chicago for a time. I moved there first with my best friend Scott and later Dave moved there when he was transferred to a store there that he worked for. Our adventures started again. So did our talks. And again, Dave never mentioned that he was gay.
I'm not sure why he never told me. We certainly had other gay friends so it wasn't as if he thought I would be judgmental or anything. I think I always suspected it but I never assumed and never asked.
Dave eventually moved to L.A. We kept in touch by phone and had our talks that way. Then one day he asked me to come out and visit him. Never having been to L.A. before I jumped at the chance. Dave picked me up at the air port and our west coast adventures were on! He took me to Universal Studios and Disneyland. LAND...not world. It was amazing. The week went so fast and before I knew it I was flying home.
I had been home about a day and Dave called me. We talked about this and that and then he said, "I have to tell you something. I have AIDS." Just like that. I don't really remember what I said to him at that point but i know I didn't say much. When we hung up I fell apart. I cried. I sobbed. Then I called him back. He said, "I thought you took that rather well." I laughed and then yelled at him for ten minutes about how he should have told me when I was there! Then we both cried and he let me know that it was full blown AIDS and treatment wasn't going well. Even though my friend looked healthy when I was there, he was not. He hid it well.
A short while after, a couple of months really, Dave passed away. His mother brought his ashes back here to Kenosha so part of him could be scattered out at Pets Park where we used to go and have our talks. I miss him a lot.
Dave is one of four people I know that have died from AIDS. And even though the medications and treatments available now are so much better and people are living longer, this horrible disease raged on. So for the Dave's, the Pete's, the Mike's, and the Peter's of the world, I hope that one day we will finally know how to irradiate this killer once and for all.
I met Dave at UW-Parkside. We were theatre majors and met when we were cast in some shows there. We hit it off instantly. Dave could be so funny and we had many hysterical adventures, he and I. We also had some great heart to heart talks. We could talk about anything and everything but the one thing Dave never talked about to me was the fact that he was gay.
After we graduated, we both lived in Chicago for a time. I moved there first with my best friend Scott and later Dave moved there when he was transferred to a store there that he worked for. Our adventures started again. So did our talks. And again, Dave never mentioned that he was gay.
I'm not sure why he never told me. We certainly had other gay friends so it wasn't as if he thought I would be judgmental or anything. I think I always suspected it but I never assumed and never asked.
Dave eventually moved to L.A. We kept in touch by phone and had our talks that way. Then one day he asked me to come out and visit him. Never having been to L.A. before I jumped at the chance. Dave picked me up at the air port and our west coast adventures were on! He took me to Universal Studios and Disneyland. LAND...not world. It was amazing. The week went so fast and before I knew it I was flying home.
I had been home about a day and Dave called me. We talked about this and that and then he said, "I have to tell you something. I have AIDS." Just like that. I don't really remember what I said to him at that point but i know I didn't say much. When we hung up I fell apart. I cried. I sobbed. Then I called him back. He said, "I thought you took that rather well." I laughed and then yelled at him for ten minutes about how he should have told me when I was there! Then we both cried and he let me know that it was full blown AIDS and treatment wasn't going well. Even though my friend looked healthy when I was there, he was not. He hid it well.
A short while after, a couple of months really, Dave passed away. His mother brought his ashes back here to Kenosha so part of him could be scattered out at Pets Park where we used to go and have our talks. I miss him a lot.
Dave is one of four people I know that have died from AIDS. And even though the medications and treatments available now are so much better and people are living longer, this horrible disease raged on. So for the Dave's, the Pete's, the Mike's, and the Peter's of the world, I hope that one day we will finally know how to irradiate this killer once and for all.
Friday, June 24, 2011
My brushes with greatness...
I have to confess. I am in a bit of a slump these days. Just got a lot on my plate and feeling a wee bit low. But I read my friend Paul's blog today. It was all about women who love the Three Stooges (which I still think is a myth!) and he had a couple of anecdotes from readers about times they actually met or spoke to one of the Stooges. This got me remembering my own "brushes with greatness"! No, I never met one of the Three Stooges but I did meet a handful of great actors back in the day - John Cusack, Aidan Quinn, Tom Cruise and Robert Deniro, to name a few. Let me tell you about meeting these four.
Awhile back, I lived in Chicago and I was acting and working with a theatre company called, igLoo, the theatrical group. No, that's not misspelled. We were cool like that. LOL Anyway...
We did some very avantgarde stuff and it started getting the attention of the local press which then got the attention of other actors that wanted to come and work with us. One of these was a great broad named Elizabeth Bracco. She is the sister of Lorraine Bracco and the wife of Aidan Quinn. Through her I met Aidan. Lizzie and I were in a few shows together and occasionally we would pal around. One Monday night, Lizzie called me and asked me to come over to her apartment and hang out making jewelry and ordering in sushi. Aidan was watching the World Series and she wasn't interested in that. So, I went over. Now, at this time, the movie "The Untouchables" was filming in Chicago. Many of my friends are in that movie as extras. I can spot them sitting in the train station and lying face down in pools of blood throughout the film! But I digress...
So, I go over to Lizzie's. She lets me in and we go to the dining room where all the jewelry making stuff was laid out. Then she takes me into the living room where Aidan is watching the game with a buddy. I look up as Lizzie is saying "this is my friend Mary, Mary - this is Bob" and I am met with the enormous smiling face of Robert Freakin' Deniro! Deniro was in town shooting the movie. He was playing Al Capone to Kevin Costner's Elliot Ness. He shakes my hand and says, "nice to meet ya" and goes back to the watching the game. I'm sure I mumbled something but I honestly don't remember what I said! What I remember was retreating to the kitchen where I chastised Lizzie! I mean, she could have warned me that I was about to meet one of the greatest actors to ever live. You can't just spring Robert Deniro on someone like that!! Sheesh!
At this time, when we weren't doing our own shows, we would rent out our theatre space to other companies who needed some place to rehearse or perform. One day, my friend who ran the company asked me to meet with a new potential renter because she and her husband were going to be out that day. So I waited at the theatre for about an hour. She didn't tell me who the potential renter was. So imagine my surprise when John Cusack walked in! He was the nicest guy in the world too. I showed him the space and he ended up renting it. Unfortunately, some of his people got into our costumes and pretty much trashed them which ended the rental relationship badly. But oh well...
The one day Lizzie invited us over for Aidan's birthday party. We went out and bought an old bowling trophy and wrapped it up for him! The apartment was packed! People everywhere! My friends and I were pretty much stuck in the living room but we were thirsty so I volunteered to squeeze my way into the kitchen to get us some beers. I pushed my way through the crowd, down the hall and into the kitchen. I grabbed 5 beers to take back to my friends. When I turned around to start back through the crowd I was face to face with Tom Cruise. He laughed and said, "Those aren't all for you, are they?" I laughed and said something really clever, "no". And that was that. By the way, Tom Cruise is short. Seriously short. Shorter than you can even imagine he would be. I had a good two feet on him.
So, those are some of my brushes with greatness. There are others - Elizabeth Taylor, William Windom, and a few more. But those four all happened at a very good time in my life and with the mood I'm in lately it did me some good remembering. So, still not a Three Stooges fan but there ya go! LOL
Friday, December 31, 2010
Ending the year with quiet repose....
2010 has been a banner year. A lot of really great things happened in 2010. My niece Megan got married, and so did her brother and now my nephew's wife is expecting a child. My other niece graduated from St. Joseph's High School with honors and started her first year at Marquette. My other nephew became an Eagle Scout.
At work, I took on a new program from another agency and worked with a whole lot of new, really interesting people. I felt a sense of accomplishment and learned how to be humble.
In November I celebrated being Fru Lindqvist for one full year! I can't believe how quickly that year went! I also got to know my father-in-law a little better. He's an intelligent, funny, interesting man and I look forward to spending more time with him.
The year ended with some stress, sadness and fear but then there was relief. My mom had a stroke on Christmas Eve. She's 93 years old and, realistically, I know that one of these days she will pass on but I also believe that no matter how long we live there is just not enough time in this life. I'm scared for when her time comes but, thankfully, she is doing better and will continue intensive therapy at Froedtert.
So, in a half an hour, it will be 2011. I wonder what it will bring and hope for the best. For all of us! Happy New Year everyone!
At work, I took on a new program from another agency and worked with a whole lot of new, really interesting people. I felt a sense of accomplishment and learned how to be humble.
In November I celebrated being Fru Lindqvist for one full year! I can't believe how quickly that year went! I also got to know my father-in-law a little better. He's an intelligent, funny, interesting man and I look forward to spending more time with him.
The year ended with some stress, sadness and fear but then there was relief. My mom had a stroke on Christmas Eve. She's 93 years old and, realistically, I know that one of these days she will pass on but I also believe that no matter how long we live there is just not enough time in this life. I'm scared for when her time comes but, thankfully, she is doing better and will continue intensive therapy at Froedtert.
So, in a half an hour, it will be 2011. I wonder what it will bring and hope for the best. For all of us! Happy New Year everyone!
Monday, December 13, 2010
Another "thing" about Christmas...
I've rehung the Christmas lights on the window. The first set was "eaten" by the cat. Well, she didn't actually eat it, she just chewed the plug end of the cord off so they couldn't be used. Our little, tiny Christmas tree is lit and decorated. We keep having to shoo away the cat who is bound and determined to get that lighted star one of the these days. I've placed the angel that used to top my Mother's tree in front of our little tree. She proudly stands holding out her lighted candles. I remember going with my Dad to buy that angel when the old star we used to have finally gave up on us. We've had this angel for at least 25 years now. I hope she'll stay lit forever.
I love Christmas. It's no surprise to those around me to hear that. I love this season more than any other. There is some magic in those twinkling lights, ours and those shining in the windows of our neighbors and people we don't know. They send a warm, hopeful glow out into the cold, dark winter night. They actually change a season. I don't know of any other event throughout the year that has that power.
I know, for some, the holiday season is very hard. There are lost and lonely people out there and also those who feel lost and lonely because they cannot see the warmth that exists around them. I've seen how a smile, a small candy cane and a "Happy Holidays!" can work miracles by showing people that, for even just that one moment, someone does care. I've seen incredible acts of graciousness and kindness. People can really be unselfish sometimes and it's always a wonder to see. This is why I love Christmas.
On a more personal note, I love giving gifts. Don't get me wrong! I love getting them too but giving them gives me a whole different feeling. I love taking time to try to figure out what each person in my life would love to have. I don't think of it in practical terms. We can all use warm gloves, and socks, and whatnot but we can all get those at another time. I love giving the gift of fun! I want people to remember the joy they felt at Christmas when they were little. Sometimes that means giving them something just for the fun of it - toys, games, art stuff, whatever it is! Giving someone a good memory to hold onto is a very good thing!
So, tonight, as the frigid deadly cold of Wisconsin is warmed just a little bit by the glow of my holiday lights, I'm enjoying a lovely cup of hot tea, remembering my Dad as the angel blinks, and hoping that everyone, everywhere is warm and loved and happy. If even for a moment.
I love Christmas. It's no surprise to those around me to hear that. I love this season more than any other. There is some magic in those twinkling lights, ours and those shining in the windows of our neighbors and people we don't know. They send a warm, hopeful glow out into the cold, dark winter night. They actually change a season. I don't know of any other event throughout the year that has that power.
I know, for some, the holiday season is very hard. There are lost and lonely people out there and also those who feel lost and lonely because they cannot see the warmth that exists around them. I've seen how a smile, a small candy cane and a "Happy Holidays!" can work miracles by showing people that, for even just that one moment, someone does care. I've seen incredible acts of graciousness and kindness. People can really be unselfish sometimes and it's always a wonder to see. This is why I love Christmas.
On a more personal note, I love giving gifts. Don't get me wrong! I love getting them too but giving them gives me a whole different feeling. I love taking time to try to figure out what each person in my life would love to have. I don't think of it in practical terms. We can all use warm gloves, and socks, and whatnot but we can all get those at another time. I love giving the gift of fun! I want people to remember the joy they felt at Christmas when they were little. Sometimes that means giving them something just for the fun of it - toys, games, art stuff, whatever it is! Giving someone a good memory to hold onto is a very good thing!
So, tonight, as the frigid deadly cold of Wisconsin is warmed just a little bit by the glow of my holiday lights, I'm enjoying a lovely cup of hot tea, remembering my Dad as the angel blinks, and hoping that everyone, everywhere is warm and loved and happy. If even for a moment.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
The times they are a-changin...
Today is Thanksgiving Day here in the US and that means I'll be with family, eating too much turkey and just having a good time in general. It's the usual way. Tradition.
Having said that, it has also been abundantly clear that my family traditions are changing forever this year. You see, my family has always thrived at this time of year. Beginning with Thanksgiving, these winter holidays - Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years - have always been our greatest time of celebration. The highlight being our annual Christmas Eve get together at my mother's house. We would have traditional Polish food - kishka, kielbasa and the like - and we'd sing Christmas Carols and give each other gifts. Everyone would be there - all of the nieces, nephews, spouses and sometimes a stray friend or two. We'd cram ourselves into my mom's living room and it would be the best time of the year.
This year, my mother is not living at her house due to her age so we're not having it. She's living with my sister now and my sister always hosts an enormous Christmas Day dinner so to ask her to host Christmas Eve as well would be a little much. So this year, no get together, no carolling, no large crowd of family. In all of the changes that have happened this year, this, to me, is the most significant sign that our lives are and will be forever changed when my mother is gone.
I, for one, plan to cherish this Christmas. I know it may be my mother's last and I wish there was a way that I could give her the one last Christmas in her own home but I cannot. So I will hold on to what I do have - my mom at 93, my family - so close it's almost unnatural, my memories, and my dear husband, with whom I know we will make our own new traditions.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
Having said that, it has also been abundantly clear that my family traditions are changing forever this year. You see, my family has always thrived at this time of year. Beginning with Thanksgiving, these winter holidays - Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years - have always been our greatest time of celebration. The highlight being our annual Christmas Eve get together at my mother's house. We would have traditional Polish food - kishka, kielbasa and the like - and we'd sing Christmas Carols and give each other gifts. Everyone would be there - all of the nieces, nephews, spouses and sometimes a stray friend or two. We'd cram ourselves into my mom's living room and it would be the best time of the year.
This year, my mother is not living at her house due to her age so we're not having it. She's living with my sister now and my sister always hosts an enormous Christmas Day dinner so to ask her to host Christmas Eve as well would be a little much. So this year, no get together, no carolling, no large crowd of family. In all of the changes that have happened this year, this, to me, is the most significant sign that our lives are and will be forever changed when my mother is gone.
I, for one, plan to cherish this Christmas. I know it may be my mother's last and I wish there was a way that I could give her the one last Christmas in her own home but I cannot. So I will hold on to what I do have - my mom at 93, my family - so close it's almost unnatural, my memories, and my dear husband, with whom I know we will make our own new traditions.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Okay, you can just ignore that last post...
Sheesh. What a whiner I am. Honestly. I just read that last post of mine and whine, whine, whine. Yeah, like anyone I can be pretty hard on myself sometimes but that rant right down there below...well, that is just me WALLOWING IN SELF PITY!
I'm over it know. (You can all breathe easier, I'm sure.)
So I have one more day of work this week. Then I have a four day weekend. And smack dab in the middle of the weekend, I have a reunion with some people from my college days. I can't wait. Lemme tell ya about these folks.
Scott - Scott has been one of my best friends for a long time. In fact, we shared an apartment in Chicago when we first graduated. We were SO naive and on our own in Chicago. Our first apartment did not have heat. Oh, it had the capability to have heat but we were just completely unaware that the meter for the gas company had been stolen. We sat there, in our cold living room, covered in blankets and wondering why we didn't seem to have heat. We figured it out...eventually. Took about a week though.
Patty - Lordy, what can I say about Patty! We actually went to high school together and then ended up at university together. We have laughed harder than any two people have a right to in our lifetime. I have a really funny story involving me and Patty, some cheeseburgers at Finney's West eaten between the matinee and evening shows, flatulence and Scott entering the scene in the aftermath. I won't give any more detail than that. You figure it out!
Becky (now calling herslef Rebecca, la de dah!) - oh so many shows together! Becky was always the young ingenue to my curmudgeonly type characters. She had a light and air about her and a voice that was out of this world! She's flying all the way in from Connecticut for this shindig!
Andy (now known as Drew) - Andy is an actor's actor. Droll, funny, and often irreverant. He was one of my favorite people ever. I recall a party at his apartment. He says, "You don't have to bring anything. I made a ham!" This was an event. Andy never had any food at his parties. SO we get there...and he has a ham. Just a ham. Sitting in the middle of his table. With a knife in it. Needless to say, we ran out and got other stuff to eat and drink to go WITH the ham. What a doof!
Anyway, can't wait to see them on Sunday! I already know it's going to be a blast and my sides will hurt from laughing all day long.
I'm over it know. (You can all breathe easier, I'm sure.)
So I have one more day of work this week. Then I have a four day weekend. And smack dab in the middle of the weekend, I have a reunion with some people from my college days. I can't wait. Lemme tell ya about these folks.
Scott - Scott has been one of my best friends for a long time. In fact, we shared an apartment in Chicago when we first graduated. We were SO naive and on our own in Chicago. Our first apartment did not have heat. Oh, it had the capability to have heat but we were just completely unaware that the meter for the gas company had been stolen. We sat there, in our cold living room, covered in blankets and wondering why we didn't seem to have heat. We figured it out...eventually. Took about a week though.
Patty - Lordy, what can I say about Patty! We actually went to high school together and then ended up at university together. We have laughed harder than any two people have a right to in our lifetime. I have a really funny story involving me and Patty, some cheeseburgers at Finney's West eaten between the matinee and evening shows, flatulence and Scott entering the scene in the aftermath. I won't give any more detail than that. You figure it out!
Becky (now calling herslef Rebecca, la de dah!) - oh so many shows together! Becky was always the young ingenue to my curmudgeonly type characters. She had a light and air about her and a voice that was out of this world! She's flying all the way in from Connecticut for this shindig!
Andy (now known as Drew) - Andy is an actor's actor. Droll, funny, and often irreverant. He was one of my favorite people ever. I recall a party at his apartment. He says, "You don't have to bring anything. I made a ham!" This was an event. Andy never had any food at his parties. SO we get there...and he has a ham. Just a ham. Sitting in the middle of his table. With a knife in it. Needless to say, we ran out and got other stuff to eat and drink to go WITH the ham. What a doof!
Anyway, can't wait to see them on Sunday! I already know it's going to be a blast and my sides will hurt from laughing all day long.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
My mother's things...
Recently, my 92 year old mother made the final move to go live with my sister, Patsy and her family. She has a lovely room there with a walk in closet, a private bath with one of those uberexpensive walk-in/close door/fill up tubs. She left behind the home she's lived in since 1970. It was the first house my parents ever owned that wasn't an apartment attached to their business.
The house had a real yard with a mammoth oak tree and enough space for my mom to have a garden. Which she did until she was 91. The house has two levels, the kitchen being in the basement level. My mom, at 92, just couldn't do the stairs anymore. Even getting in and out of the house was almost impossible for her. So, to my sister's she went.
Today, I went over there to get the things my mom wanted me to have - her microwave, a couple of chairs, her bed frame, some Christmas ornaments, a variety of cook books. I also got what was left of her blue and white Currier and Ives dish set. It's the set I remember us using at holidays when I was a really little kid. It's not a complete set anymore - age and careless children have seen to that - but it's wonderful to have it. I intend to use it too. Not just display it like some moldy memory.
I got her old desk too. I'm sitting at it right now. I love this desk. It's tan with some scroll work. Nothing really to look at. But the treasure lies inside. If you pull out the ledge above the top drawers on either side you'll see it. Years of kids scratching their names into the the wood. I'm there, all my sisters, most of the nieces and nephews. Pretty much anyone who's ever sat at this desk has etched their names into it. I love that. I also love that when I opened the middle drawer my mom had tucked away her pin cushion and sewing kit with the extra buttons. And it all smells like home.
It was a bit weird going over to my mother's now empty house and taking these things. It seemed too "final". But I know my mom is alive and doing well. She's safe now and better off where she is. And I get to enjoy her things while I still have her with me. How precious is that?
By the way, that house my parents bought in 1970? They paid cash and bought it outright. How much? They paid $14000. That's right...fourteen thousand. Hard to believe...
The house had a real yard with a mammoth oak tree and enough space for my mom to have a garden. Which she did until she was 91. The house has two levels, the kitchen being in the basement level. My mom, at 92, just couldn't do the stairs anymore. Even getting in and out of the house was almost impossible for her. So, to my sister's she went.
Today, I went over there to get the things my mom wanted me to have - her microwave, a couple of chairs, her bed frame, some Christmas ornaments, a variety of cook books. I also got what was left of her blue and white Currier and Ives dish set. It's the set I remember us using at holidays when I was a really little kid. It's not a complete set anymore - age and careless children have seen to that - but it's wonderful to have it. I intend to use it too. Not just display it like some moldy memory.
I got her old desk too. I'm sitting at it right now. I love this desk. It's tan with some scroll work. Nothing really to look at. But the treasure lies inside. If you pull out the ledge above the top drawers on either side you'll see it. Years of kids scratching their names into the the wood. I'm there, all my sisters, most of the nieces and nephews. Pretty much anyone who's ever sat at this desk has etched their names into it. I love that. I also love that when I opened the middle drawer my mom had tucked away her pin cushion and sewing kit with the extra buttons. And it all smells like home.
It was a bit weird going over to my mother's now empty house and taking these things. It seemed too "final". But I know my mom is alive and doing well. She's safe now and better off where she is. And I get to enjoy her things while I still have her with me. How precious is that?
By the way, that house my parents bought in 1970? They paid cash and bought it outright. How much? They paid $14000. That's right...fourteen thousand. Hard to believe...
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
A blast from my past...
Next week a very dear friend is coming to Kenosha to visit with family. We've decided to get together with some other dear old friends and that means there will be much laughter, liquor and stories from our not so recent colorful past. To remind me of said past, my friend Gary sent me some stuff he had held onto for all these years.
Let me explain...
After I attended university I decided to move to Chicago which is about an hour or so from where I live. While there, my friend Maria and her then husband Chris moved there from New York and decided to start a theatre company. Chicago is a pioneer city for small store front theatre companies, many of which have gone on to great things (think Steppenwolf). Back then, late 80s, early 90s, there were companies popping up all over the place. Some were good, some were very, very bad. We were good. We were good in spite of operating on no budget, pillaging set pieces and costumes anywhere we could find them (a ton of broken concrete taken from a demo site became one set!) and adapting obscure literature or writing our own plays when needed. We had no money for royalties so we looked to old, avant garde writers who's work was in the public domain most of the time. Most of the cast/crew actually lived at the theatre which was a second story space that once housed a paint factory. I had the luxury of having an apartment near by so I was hostess to many a home made dinner to those who existed on Ramen Noodles and bags of cheap rice from the Mexican store up the street. It was all very Bohemian, very crude, and very exciting to be there at such a creative time. We were all about process and product and less about the take at the ticket counter.
And, lo and behold, Chicago took notice. We quickly became the "darlings" of Anthony Adler at the Chicago Reader who once called us "the avant of the garde". I clearly remember one review where he expounded on the wonders of the use of blue kool aid instead of wine as the perfect metaphor for the show we were doing. The truth is...we were broke, no money for extras, and blue kool aid was all we had at the time! Once Adler took notice the other papers started coming around. We got reviewed in the Chicago Sun Times and Trib and Chicago magazine. All on a shoe string and all for the love of doing theatre.
Anyway, Gary dug up a nugget that I hadn't seen in a long time. That is me up there as Tina Stromboli in a show called "Journy To Destiny" (incorrect spelling intentional). The show was meant to be bad. It had broad stereotypes that in today's world we would never get away with but back then political correctness had not yet soured what used to be just good old comic relief. Those critics who got the joke loved it. Some did not but then they just didn't get the joke either. Here's what the Sun Times had to say about it:
Actors score hit,
but 'Journy' doesn't
THEATER
By Dave Hoekstra
Somewhere along the line the igLoo Theater has confused
art with tart.
IgLoo co-directors Chris
Peditto and Maria Tirabassi
cooked up a rather compelling theatrical
premise in "Journy to Destiny"-
a mindless, MTV-ish kind of
soap opera. But the few genuinely
funny moments in the two-hour
frat party are overlooked because
the audience is engrossed in throwing
whipped-cream pies at the actors.
Pies' are an integral part of
American humor, from Lucy and
Ethel on the assembly line to Milton
Bede's. first pie in. the eye,
thrown somewhere near the dawn
of time. I suppose if igLoo had
employed a mere handful of welltimed
pies, the joke might have
worked.
But I counted at least 150 tossed
pies during Tuesday's openingnight
performance, with the direct
hits getting the biggest cheers of
the evening.
At least the aggression was well
deserved.
"Journy to Destiny" occassionally
works if you view the play in
the context of a bad cartoon. Jamey
Barnard's costume design imd
Kathy Hall's set construction all
are in bright, neon-colored cardboard,
while actors assume the
roles of caricatures instead of characters.
I suggest the pies are channel
changers of sorts.
Action revolves around the
House of Stromboli,' a kind of
Trapp family of tuned-out punkers.
The family patriarch, Big Sal
Stromboli, is offed early in the play
and wife Cookie crumbles under
the pressure of single parenting.
Played engagingly by' Cynthia
Orthal (in the program she's Scarlet
Monkeyflower), Cookie finally
falls for the family .dog, Beaurigarde
(Beau O'Reilly), and she is
committed while the dog is shot.
The rest of the play follows the
wanderings of the Stromboli
daughters: Nancy, Maria, Tina and
Little Anna; as well as lone-wolf
brother Bumbus.
Of all these madcaps, the two
performances worth noting are
Mary Kelleher's Tina, the burned-
out black sheep who approaches
her character with just the right
amount of cynial aggression, and
Maria (Stephanie Barto), the family
brain who winds up working in
the Pentagon.
What makes Barto and Kelleher's
work important is that they
are the only two players who are
believable-an essential aspect of
comedic farce.
But there's just too much excess
that detracts from the actors' work.
If the audience isn't throwing pies,
they're being prompted, to throw
pies by narrator Chris Peditto, or........
they're worrying where they're going to get their next pie, which I
guess is why the igLoo Theater bills
"Journy to Destiny" as a "creamfilled
catastrophe."
At least that's one direct hit.
I was known as Mary Kelleher back then. So, even though this guy hated the show, he liked me! I'm not sure that in a play filled with bad jokes and flying cream pies being one of the stand out performers is a good thing! Hahah! Hmmm, I wonder if I should give acting another go. I recall I was pretty good at it and it was a load of fun to boot.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Glad Påsk, Happy Easter or whatever you all celebrate or call it...
Easter used to be a big deal for me as a kid. Well, isn't it for most kids? I mean, sure, you get dressed up like a monkey and dragged to church but there was all that candy! Baskets full of chocolate, just for me! What's not to love?
Of course, these days in my adult skin, it's not quite so thrilling. I don't dress up and go to church anymore. I had a chance to rethink that whole organized religion thing over the years and, yeah, not so much...
But this year there will be some throw back memories to be had. My sister is having us all over for dinner which in true Patsy's tradition will be enormous! She makes all of her own Easter candy so there will be loads of that too. But the truly fun part is that this year we are having a grown up Easter egg hunt. Hundreds of tiny plastic eggs will be hidden in her yard and they will be filled with....are you ready for this?... JELLO SHOTS!!! w00t!! So if you don't hear much from me on Monday, you now know why.
Happy Easter everyone!
Of course, these days in my adult skin, it's not quite so thrilling. I don't dress up and go to church anymore. I had a chance to rethink that whole organized religion thing over the years and, yeah, not so much...
But this year there will be some throw back memories to be had. My sister is having us all over for dinner which in true Patsy's tradition will be enormous! She makes all of her own Easter candy so there will be loads of that too. But the truly fun part is that this year we are having a grown up Easter egg hunt. Hundreds of tiny plastic eggs will be hidden in her yard and they will be filled with....are you ready for this?... JELLO SHOTS!!! w00t!! So if you don't hear much from me on Monday, you now know why.
Happy Easter everyone!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
The thing about home...
You could ask a hundred people to tell you what "home" means to them and you would likely get a hundred different answers. For most of us, home is that place where we are most comfortable, where we can be ourselves, where we don't have to worry about what others think or want us to do. Home is our haven. As children, home was likely to be our sanctuary - the place where we learned our best and worst lessons and it didn't matter because everyone there loved you anyway. As we grow up, there is a time when home becomes the place you want to leave and never look back. And then we do that and realize that there really is no place like home.
I remember the first time I went home after I had lived out on my own in Chicago for a few years. I couldn't afford to get my own apartment right way so I ended up living with my mom again. That first night I was laying in there in the same bed I had slept in, in the same room I had called my own, with the same pictures on the wall. It was like I had travelled back in time. It was weird but somehow really great at the same time. I felt trapped but free, nostalgic but liberated, all at the same time. I came to appreciate home in terms of my own definition. Home was a place I will always remember and have some really wonderful recollections of it but I wouldn't want to live there again.
It's hard to say good bye to the physical place you call home. The memory keeper in all of us would rather tie it up in a bow and stop time to keep those memories in tact and whole. But the truth is, memories become sweeter when we let them mingle in the presence of our days not when we hold them so close they start to smother us.
I remember the first time I went home after I had lived out on my own in Chicago for a few years. I couldn't afford to get my own apartment right way so I ended up living with my mom again. That first night I was laying in there in the same bed I had slept in, in the same room I had called my own, with the same pictures on the wall. It was like I had travelled back in time. It was weird but somehow really great at the same time. I felt trapped but free, nostalgic but liberated, all at the same time. I came to appreciate home in terms of my own definition. Home was a place I will always remember and have some really wonderful recollections of it but I wouldn't want to live there again.
It's hard to say good bye to the physical place you call home. The memory keeper in all of us would rather tie it up in a bow and stop time to keep those memories in tact and whole. But the truth is, memories become sweeter when we let them mingle in the presence of our days not when we hold them so close they start to smother us.
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