The "Old" People

Earlier this week my good friend in Tucson wrote on her Facebook Status, "I Miss My Old People!!" I knew what she was talking about - her mother passed away in the Summer of 2008, and her stepfather died a month or so ago.

My hairdresser just lost her mother a month ago after a long illness. And over the past week there has been a man walking by our office who looks a lot like Ed's dad. All of these events brought so much back to me.

My mom died over 14 years ago, and between Jan 2007 and Jan 2008 Ed and I lost my father and both of his parents. All of our "old people" are gone, too. My dad was in a nursing home for over 2 years before he died, and Ed's parents both spent eight weeks in the hospital or nursing homes at the end of their lives. For two years our lives consisted of a series of hospital visits, flights to Chicago, nursing home visits, dealing with mounds of paperwork, knots in the stomach every time the phone rang. It was emotionally and physically draining - and I miss it!

I miss having them around. I miss their stories that they told over and over again. I miss being able to take my dad out of the nursing home and to a restaurant for oysters, white wine, and Caesar Salad. And driving him to downtown Chicago so he could see the buildings and the lights. He so loved Chicago. And Scrabble - up to the end it was hard to beat the guy at Scrabble.

I miss having Ed's dad over a couple of times a week for dinner and watching him enjoy our grandkids. And hearing his great phrases like "tall hog at the trough" and "knee deep in high cotton". And his laugh - boy could that man laugh. Mostly it was silent, you would just see his face light up and his belly jiggle.

I miss Ed's mom with her bright red hair and the perpetual kleenex in her hand. And her bright lipstick. I miss her yelling across the room, "Where's Clyde?" anytime her husband dared to stray out of her sight. I miss seeing her in that recliner where she sat for every holiday and dinner at our house. 90% of the photos we have of her are in that recliner!

I miss my mother's laugh and the way she always said, "Hi, Sweetheart!" when I would call her on the phone, and I could hear a smile in her voice. And how we called each other almost daily just to chat - often about nothing in particular. And how she was able to center me with just a few words. She was my best friend so I lost two people when she died.

I even miss all we had to do at the end of their lives because it gave us a chance to give back to them some of what they had given to us. To take care of them. My dad once said to me, "I hate that you have to do all of this for me." I said, "Dad, you took care of me for 20 years, let me enjoy the chance to pay you back a bit."

After all of our "old people" were gone, I made a separate collage for each of them and have them hanging in our hallway. I smile every time I look at them - and I tear up.

Now Ed and I are the "old people" ! I'm not sure I like that much.

The Windy City

Tomorrow we're heading to Chicago for 5 days. The first three will be a conference downtown, and the weekend will be spent with family. I love Chicago. Couldn't handle the winters, but love downtown and all the surrounding areas. It's a great place to visit. When my brother left California with his wife and new baby almost 12 years ago, I was heartbroken. But the plus side is that I've traveled to Chicago at least once a year since that, and when my dad moved there five years ago, the trips expanded to four times a year. And I always loved it. Now that Dad's gone, we're back to probably once a year.

This time we will be staying downtown the whole trip. For those of you who have never been to downtown Chicago, you're really missing something. Millenium Park with it's huge silver bean, Grant Park with Buckingham Fountain, Navy Pier, Lakeshore Drive, a 5-story Crate and Barrel, the Chicago River, Water Tower, Michigan Avenue (which is probably the cleanest main street in any downtown in the country).

I was born in Chicago, as were my parents. So in many ways it's home to me - even though I left at the age of 2. No, I didn't run (crawl) away from home - my parents moved around Illinois for a couple of years then we settled in Dayton, OH for six years before heading to Tucson. So, a lot of my family history is in Chicago. I have a photo of me and my dad standing in front of Buckingham Fountain when I was three. My Mom worked downtown during the war, my whole family lived in the Italian neighborhood, and my grandmother would throw meatball sandwiches down from their third floor apartment window to my dad and his brother so they could have lunch on the run!

This trip will have a meloncholy side, too. We will finally be burying my dad's ashes and spending some time at the cemetery to say our final goodbyes. He and his brother (who passed away two months before him) will be buried in the same plot as their parents in a beautiful cemetary with large trees, and wonderful marble headstones.

Then on Sunday we'll be driving up to Lake Geneva (which I think is in Wisconsin) with my aunt and uncle to try to catch some fall colors. Plus, that is where my parents spent their honeymoon so it will be fun to see it.

All in all, I'm looking forward to the week. Not to getting up at 4:00am tomorrow to catch the plane, but the rest of it.

Hey, they had to make their own fun back then

A couple of weeks ago I saw an article in Time about the death of Jo Stafford at the age of 90. She was a singer and a familiar name in my house when I was a kid. My parents loved music and she was one of their favorite singers. But there was a little hidden part of my memory that was struck by this article when I got to the part about the album she and her husband put together as a satire. On this album they sang all the songs off-key and the piano was overly dramatic and quite awful.

That brought me back to the 50's when I was 8 or 9 and my parents were having people over to the house for a "cocktail" party. Mom would put on the Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Tommy Dorsey and Glenn Miller records. Then, in the middle of the mix, she would put in the album of Jonathan and Darlene Edwards. It was great fun to see people merrily drinking, talking and laughing - then suddenly hear the songs and get a quizzical look on their faces. They didn't want to insult my mother on her choice of music, so no one would actually say anything. But they make these strange sideways glances and more than a few eyebrows were raised. In the meantime, my mom and dad were having great fun watching their reactions.

The 50's were a strange time. I think this was the same decade when a friend of the family made a huge batch of mini creme puffs and put a ball of cotton (in lieu of custard) in a few of them just for laughs. Of course, my dad got one of those. But I don't remember much laughter on his part.

Almost at the end

Yesterday the escrow closed on Ed's dad's house. He had put it on the market shortly after Clyde died mid-January and it took a few months to sell, so it was good that it was finally over. The past few weeks have been filled with been getting rid of his parent's possessions. We were able to find family or friends to take most of the furniture - and the buyers wanted some of it. There were many boxes of clothes and small items that went to charity. A lot of stuff went into the trash. It's so hard to go through the clothes, photos, kitchen things, jewelry boxes, dressers, etc. It feels so intrusive. And, yet, it must be done. We had cleared out Ed's mom's things just a year before. But this time we had to empty the whole house. A lifetime of possessions to dispose of. And now it's done. We brought several things back to our house - special photos, a few vases and things that held special memories, an old wooden shelf that Ed's mom used for knick knacks and which he remembers from when he was a little boy. Some of these items will find a place in our home, some will be kept in a special memory box. We have these boxes for all of our parents now. Bits and pieces of their lives that we're hanging on to.

By the time my father died, we had moved him from an apartment to the nursing home so most of his things were already gone. However, he did have quite a bit in his room at the nursing home. After he passed away, my brother, Tony, went there to pick the items up. The nurses had stripped the bed, thrown stuff in boxes and put it all on the bed. That was so hard for Tony. Like the home was trying to quickly remove all traces of our father.

With my mother, who passed away 14 years ago, we had put all her stuff in storage because her passing was such a shock and so unexpected that we didn't have time to do anything else. Then about 14 months later, Tony and his wife, my kids and I went back to Tucson to finally dispose of Mom's things. I can still remember opening the door to the storage room and immediately smelling her cologne. We all just sat down and sobbed.

It feels so wrong to just get rid of people's things after they die. So disrespectful. So final. But you get through it somehow. And now we're done. The only thing we have left to do is bury my father's ashes which we'll do in Chicago at the end of September. Then we will no longer have anything left to do for our parents.

Except remember them. And continue to love them. I'm going to buy four matching collage frames and assemble one for each parent with old and current photos. We already have a wall designated for them. It's important that our kids and grandkids know who they were and how much they meant to us.

We have some of their treasures around our house, and we will always have them in our hearts.

Where I came from

Thought this would be a good time to write about my Mom and Dad and their life together. They were both first generation Americans. Dad's family came from northern Italy and Mom's came from southern Italy. They were only 9 months apart in age and met with they were kids growing up in the Italian neighborhood in Chicago.

Dad was a studly teen and a real ladies man. Mom had a crush on him and wanted him to notice her. So she did what any lovely young lady would do back in the 1940's. She jumped over a fence. Fell on her face and broke her nose. Oh, did I mention that she was a bit of a tomboy?

Well, apparently it worked because they did get married in 1944 after he got out of the service. And they were "blessed" with me in 1946. Mom used to tell me that one of the things she loved about my father was that he was self-confident and not wishy washy. Often, when they went on a date it started with Dad coming over to her house and saying, "Hey, I'm goin' to a movie - wanna come along?" And, of course, she went. A real romantic, that man was.

But she loved him. One of their favorite songs was My Blue Heaven. One verse was:

Just Molly and me, and baby makes three. We're happy in my blue heaven

For many years when they were young newleyweds they would call each other Molly and Cholly. I have some cards that they had sent to each other signing their names like this.

Mom was the quintessential 1950's housewife. Kept a spotless house, cooked wonderful meals, handled all the child rearing responsibilities. I can remember at 4:30 every day she would stop what she was doing, run upstairs and put on clean clothes, freshen her makeup, and fix her hair. Then she'd run downstairs and get working on dinner. Because when Dad got home, dinner was usually waiting and Mom was all dolled up. She would never let him come home to an unkempt woman, a messy house, or dirty kids. Ah, the old days. My husband's lucky if I put on clean sweats!

But Mom's life was like a page out of a 1950's Home Ec book. And she flourished in it.

Their joy didn't last forever. By the time my brother was born they had separated at least once and, shortly after their 25th wedding anniversary they got divorced. However, they never really stopped loving each other. Oh, they both went on to other relationships. But if one of them needed anything, the other was always there. Even the last time I saw my Dad in August, he got teary-eyed talking about Mom and said that he still missed her so much. When she died in 1994 a light went out in all of us. And Dad was no exception. This is a picture of me with my parents, and their four grandchildren at the time (Tony wasn't even married yet) in my kitchen in Tucson. Luckily for us, my Mom and Dad continued to be friends and both of them were at all family functions. So we never had to "choose" between parents or have two holidays because they didn't get along. Very lucky, indeed.

So, good bye to both of them. We loved them and they definitely loved us. I hope they're both somewhere happy and safe now. And, if they get a chance to see each other again - that would be a good thing. Maybe Mom can make her famous Fettucini Alfredo for Dad.

Good night, Molly and Cholly.

And then there suddenly appeared before me.....

Last night Ed and I went to see Guys and Dolls in San Jose and decided to make it a real "date" night and try a new restaurant in the area. It was a hit! Great food, nice atmosphere, and wonderful service. Plus there was a husband-wife team who played piano and sang - mostly old standards. Very enjoyable.

Of course, it reminded me of an episode when I was growing up. There was a restaurant near our house in Tucson called The Bistro. Very nice white tablecloth place. My parents loved to eat out and we went out as a family often. This particular evening was one of my teen birthdays so they got a babysitter for my sister and Mom and Dad took me to a fancy place. I don't think I even spilled anything on the white tablecloth!

For our musical enjoyment, the restaurant had a roving accordian player. Not sure what they were thinking when they did this - it wasn't even an Italian restaurant. Now accordians did have a place in my family. My cousins both had to take accordian lessons when they were young. Yes, we were true Italians! My cousin, Ken, was a one-hit wonder with his rousing rendition of Mona Lisa. We were living in Dayton, Ohio at the time and Ken and his family were in Chicago. He and I were somewhere between 7 and 10 at the time. My aunt would call us from Chicago - long distance - so we could hear Ken play Mona Lisa and his younger brother play Cielito Lindo (which is a Mexican song so, again, I have no clue). As they got better at their "songs" we would get phone calls with updated recitals. It's still a bit of a family joke.

But, back to The Bistro. So, here was this guy, slightly disheveled, overweight, Buddy Holly glasses, sweating, playing his heart out with this 200 lb accordian hanging from his neck walking through the restaurant. The first song he played was Blue Moon. Now, this was a good thing because it's one of the three songs that my dad and I would play in tandem on our piano. So we enjoyed it. Then the accordian player stopped at the table next to us and asked if they had a request. They did. But he said, "Oh, sorry, I don't know that one." And again broke into another rendition of Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone.....

Came to our table, asked for a request, we gave him a song title which, surprisingly, he said he didn't know! Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for.........

This happened at several more tables until everyone was becoming either amused or annoyed - probably depending on how much wine had been drunk.

And still the chords came through: Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone.....

Note to restaurant owners: a) don't hire accordian players, b) ban Blue Moon, c) check the repetoire

That's it - no more going to doctors

So I went to the eye doctor today for a regular checkup and apparently I have the beginning of cataracts! I mean, really, this getting old stuff is not all its cracked up to be. First it's the back, then the blood pressure, now the eyes. Good grief.

I remember my mom calling me one day to tell me that she just read an article about organ donation. She had always wanted to be able to donate anything that was usable when she passed away. But the article said that after 65 (she was close to 70 at the time), about the only thing left worth donating was skin. Mom was NOT happy. Although, she did feel that she had plenty of extra skin that might be put to good use.

Oh, well - I guess it still beats the alternative......

Sad end to the week

My Uncle Ralph passed away this morning. It wasn't unexpected. He's in his 80's, has lived in a nursing home for 2-3 years, and was recently put under hospice care. But that doesn't make it any less sad. He was my dad's younger brother and they were in the same nursing home. I talked to my dad today and all he could say was "My little brother's gone." Made me very sad.

Losing a family member is hard. Even though I didn't see my uncle often and we had never been especially close, he was part of our family and part of our history. And I know this will be very difficult on my dad. He feels so isolated and alone in the nursing home, but at least he had his brother close by. Now he's just there alone. I visit four or five times a year (he's in Chicago and I'm in California), but that's not enough - not for either of us. My brother lives in Chicago and so does my aunt (Dad's sister), and they visit often. But, as we go about our busy lives bopping from here to there on a whim, I often find myself thinking what it must be like for my dad to not be able to go anywhere by himself or do anything without someone else's help - and I imagine it must feel frustrating, frightening, and lonely. And now this.

So, it's been a tough day.

Just when you thnk you're the coolest kid on the block..

I love going to bed at night. Getting all cozy, reading a book or watching tv before I fall asleep. In the winter I turn on my electric mattress pad about an hour before bedtime because I hate cold sheets. It's heavenly to get into the nice, warm bed when it's raining or cold outside. I come from a long line of people who love to sleep, and fall asleep easily. My dad fell asleep in the front row of a Fats Domino concert. My aunt fell asleep during a family poker game. And I once had to stand up to watch a movie on tv just so I wouldn't fall asleep for the third time!

Even as a kid I loved going to bed and sleeping. From girls at work, and from my daughter, I hear about their woes in getting their kids to bed at night. My parents never had a worry. I was the perfect little angel who gleefully strolled to bed when told to do so. Well, except for a couple of times.

When I was four or five, I very clearly remember one special night when my whining voice was in high gear. I didn't want to go to bed and I made that perfectly clear to my parents. So my mother said, "Okay, Sandy [I spelled my name with a "y" back then], you can stay up and watch tv with me and Dad, but you have to stay up as long as we do." "Yippee!!" I thought.

Mom plopped me in the middle of them and we watched tv. After a couple of shows (probably Dinah Shore, Perry Como, Dragnet), I finally got sleepy and announced that I was going to bed. "Oh, no" said my Mom. "You have to stay up with us until we go to bed, remember?" So, not to be outdone, I struggled to stay awake. To no avail. I was sleepy and wanted to get into my nice soft bed. But, noooooooo. My head was flopping around, I was fidgety, probably making pitiful little martyr sounds. Finally tv was over for the night and we all went to bed. I can tell you it was a long time before I asked to stay up late again!

Then I got a bit more cunning. Somewhere around six or seven, I went to bed one night and heard my parents watching I Love Lucy. Man, I wanted to watch that show, too. But I didn't dare ask. My bedroom was down the hall from the living room and at the juncture of hall and living room there was a floor heater. Mom used it as a clothes dryer - she would put the laundry on the folding wooden clothes and place the rack over the heater vent so they could dry. I crept out of my room and hid behind the rack. Heh, heh, heh - If I bent over a little bit I had a clear shot of the tv between my dad's shirt and one of my mom's aprons. I was so clever I even stunned myself. Had to stifle all laughter. Got a bit uncomfortable being all stooped over but it was worth it. Oh, that Lucy and Desi. Finally the show was over. I had won! I was so proud of myself! Until I heard my mom say, "The show's over, Sandy, you can go to bed now" She knew! All the time I thought I was being so brilliant she knew. And she didn't even have the courtesy to let me sit somewhere comfortable instead of bending over like a pretzel trying to peek through the clothes.

It's amazing I survived my childhood.

Happy Father's Day

Today is Father's Day. My dad is in Chicago in a nursing home so I couldn't spend time with him, but I did call him. My brother was there with his family so that made me feel better, but it's hard not to be able to spend time with him on this day. It's such an odd feeling to go from being his little girl, to being a caretaker. So many people in my generation are dealing with this and it is heartbreaking. On the other hand, I'm thankful that I've had him in my life for so many Father's Days. And that my kids and grandkids have been able to know him.

So here's to you, Dad. Happy Father's Day!!

Random Restaurant Memories

Yesterday was my husband, Ed's, 60th birthday. He has now joined the ranks of senior citizens (a fact he's not too thrilled about!). We had a nice dinner at a new restaurant - I've always loved to eat out. It's something I inherited from my parents and passed on to my children. And, of course, there are always those memorable meals. Like the time.....

It was my 12th birthday and my parents took me to a nice restaurant for dinner. My dad had on a white cardigan sweater. There was even music - well, actually, there was a roving accordian player. He knew one song - Blue Moon. Oh, he would stop at every table and ask for requests, but then he would apologize, say that he didn't know whatever it was you asked for, and launch into one more rendition of Blue Moon. I believe that was the same evening the bus boy, while cleaning our table, dropped a big glob of ketchup on my dad's white cardigan - and then proceeded to try to wipe it with the napkin. Thus creating a large Rorschach on my dad's right arm.

Then there was the time we were seated next to a table with four loud-laughing young women. They all had on jeans and midriff length halter tops. You know, the type of outfit where, when you sit down, there is a gap at the top of the jeans. A very convenient place for the waitress who is walking by to spill a large glass of ice water. Dang, that woman could scream - while jumping up and down!

When my kids were little, we lived in Denver for a couple of years and my brother would come to visit. There was a fun restaurant there called Casa Bonita. Only problem was that you had to wait in line to get your food. The kids were in a stroller getting a bit antsy, and Tony kept telling us his stomach didn't feel good. But, he always had stomach issues so we didn't take him seriously. There was an older man in front of us using a cane. A cane that my son kept grabbing! Old man not too happy. But the cane issue paled in comparison to my brother saying "I really don't feel good" right before he threw up. Yup, partially on aforementioned man with cane.

A more pleasant (if not more comical) memory was on Mother's Day in 1978. The kids were 4 1/2 and we went to a nice hotel for a brunch. Joe and Jenni were all dressed up, there were flowers and ice sculptures everywhere, champagne was flowing. The waitress came by to ask if we needed anything and Joe swung his arm over the back of the chair and said, "You got any suckers in this place?"

One of the most touching restaurant moments was when my kids were 7 or 8. We went out for a birthday dinner - just the three of us. Went to Bobby McGees. I had mentioned to the hostess that it was their birthday so they could bring out a cake and sing. While we were waiting for our table, the kids told me they had to go to the bathroom. They were only gone for a few minutes and then our table was ready. We had a nice dinner, and a birthday cake finale complete with a chorus of waiters and busboys. The kids had a great time. On the way out of the restaurant the hostess pulled me aside and said, "You need to know what your kids did tonight. While you were waiting for your table, they came up to me and said that you were always doing nice things for them so they wanted to do something special for you. Then they asked us to bring a cake to the table after dinner to surprise you." To this day I don't know if the cake was the one I asked for, or the one they asked for. But I do know that I had tears in my eyes all the way home.

Happy 85th, Dad

We're in Chicago this weekend to visit my dad and help him celebrate his 85th birthday. Ed and I travel to Chicago to see Dad at least four times a year. We always travel Southwest Airlines so we have the whole routine down to a science. Or so we thought. My son stopped over on Thursday evening and we were talking about travel, airlines, etc. Suddenly Ed leaped up and began spewing expletives! Now, for those of you have never flown Southwest - they don't have assigned seats. Instead, they board in three groups (A, B, C) and you are assigned a group in purely chronoligical order - first come, first served. In the "old days" you got a boarding number at the check in desk - and there was always an air of excitement around who got to the gate first and how low your number was. I actually got #1 on one of my trips! I felt so special - I made sure the number was clearly showing so everyone would see that I was on top. Yes, I had to get there 90 minutes early to accomplish this heroic feat - but I did it. (For those of you with volune turned up, you can probably hear my daughter saying "What a dork!" right about now). Definitely one of the highlights of my travel expreiences.

Now, you can go online 24 hours before the flight and check in. We KNOW this!! We do it regularly! But, alas, on Thrusday night we were 13 hours late. My husband raced into the office and went online. Again, expletives. He came out of the office and tossed two pieces of paper at me - they were our boarding passes. We were in C. The most non-elite of rows. We would get the leftovers - the seats the A and B people didn't want. Sigh........

As we got on the plane, we could feel the eyes of the A and B people looking at us with a mixture of sympathy (there but for the grace of god,,,,,) and disdain. We did manage to find two seats together - at the back. Luckily the rest of the flight was uneventful.

After checking in at the hotel, we picked my dad up and took him to dinner. He so seldom gets out that it's always fun to take him to a nice restaurant. We had a great dinner and some bread pudding for dessert with a candle in it.

Yesterday we all went to my brother's house in Evanston for a BBQ. My aunt (Dad's sister) and uncle joined us. The weather was perfect, my brother's back yard was beautiful, and it turned out to be a great day. You might be able to see the candles on the cake read "29". My brother forgot to buy candles and that was what they had at the house. However, if you reverse them the number is 92. Subtract the 2 from the 9 and you get 7. Subtract 7 from 92 and you get 85!! So it all worked out.

As usual, there were a few odd questions from my Dad: Who's house is this again? (my brother has lived in this house for 11 years) Is Aunt Mary coming (she still lives in Tucson)? Do you still live in California? I try to imagine what it must be like at his stage in life. He's really very intelligent - stills reads the paper daily, watches the news, reads Time and Newsweek. Very up on current events and can still out-spell any of us. But he has these moments when time and space get mixed up for him. The last 3 places he's lived blend together. He loses track of some basic everyday facts - then he'll catch himself and either feel sad angry. He usually knows when he's said something that doesn't make sense. I try to underplay these comments so he doesn't feel so bad about them. However, I know it's very hard for him to realize that he's losing his grip on reality and it scares him. I wonder what it feels like - does he feel like he's in a fog and things just aren't clear? It's so painful to watch.

But we had a really good afternoon complete with cake and ice cream. At one point he said, "It makes me so happy to have all of you here." It made us happy, too.

Hiring.com

I met my husband on Match.com which was an interesting experience. You connect with someone on their website via e-mail, than maybe a phone call, and finally the in-person meeting. Back when we met there weren’t many pictures on Match.com so it was a bit of a crap shoot.

You pull up to the coffee shop or restaurant asking yourself what the heck you’re doing! Start thinking that it isn’t so bad being alone. But secretly hoping this will be the one. And then you see him and talk with him. Hopes are dashed. You just want to get through the next 30 minutes and head home to a good book and a glass of wine.

At work I’m in the process of trying to hire a new supervisor in our department and the experience has been quite similar. Get the application and the person looks pretty good on paper. Then the phone interview – hmmm, sounds worthy step two. Now it’s time for the in-person interview.

I’m in my office and my assistant says, “Your 10 o’clock is here.” Ohmigod, it’s the same old Match.com feelings!!! Will the applicant measure up? Will this be the one? Do I really need to fill that job or can I just keep using temps?? I walk out of the office and spot the applicant and talk with him/her. Hopes are dashed….

One comes in smelling like an ashtray with rumpled clothes, dirty chipped fingernails, and a whiskey laugh. If she dresses like this for an interview, what the heck does she normally dress like! Another one comes in and talks so softly that it’s feels like Seinfeld episode and visions of puffy shirts dance through my mind. A third one has limited experience in some key areas, but is convinced that God will guide her through. And then there’s the older woman who kept winking at me. I don’t know what the heck that was about!!

The only bright side is that I finally did meet a wonderful man who is now my husband. I can only hope for the same success in this job interview process.

Going Through Dad's Things

It's a very odd feeling to go through your parent's "things" and decide what to keep and what to get rid of. Although my dad is still alive, he's in a nursing home and will no longer need any of the stuff that has been in storage for the past two 20 months. So today Ed and I went through three pallets that contained almost all of my dad's possessions. Luckily, the storage company is very service oriented. They had the pallates emptied, all boxes and furniture on the floor in an orderly fashion so we didn't need to do any heavy lifting or moving, all boxes opened for us, and they were close by in case we needed anything. For such an emotional and stressful situation, we were very grateful for their help and caring.

Since my dad had moved from Tucson to Chicago only a few years ago, there wasn't a lot of junk. But the things we did go through all spoke of his personality and his history.

• 20 or so CD's - half of them Frank Sinatra, and the rest such oldies as Mel Torme, Ella Firzgerald, Glenn Miller
• DVD's - several with Kim Bassinger in them! And two Kill Bills! Plus several old VHS tapes - three seasons of Soprano's, the complete set of The Godfather movies, and, or course, Frank Sinatra movies
• A wooden shoe shine box with a thing on top for a person to put his shoe to be shined. This from his youth in Chicago when he shined shoes for a side job
• A Clavietta which is like a little piano that you blow into to make sound - my dad loved music and loved to "play" instruments
• Pictures, cards, and books I sent to him over 30 years ago
• A recipe card box with A-Z dividers and 3x5 cards - this was his homemade version of a Rolodex
• A little orange painted pumpkin that my brother made for him over 30 years ago and which he always had hanging up in his house
• Lapel pins, retirement plaques, etc,. from his years working for a Chevy dealership and working for the Red Cross.
• Many coffee table books about Chicago, New York City, and, yes, Frank Sinatra
• A bottle opener shaped like Italy (this will soon be hung up in my kitchen!)
• Eight remotes - many for equipment that is long gone

We shipped a lot of the smaller things back home, and put together boxes for my aunt and my brother. Then we told the manager at the storage facility that the staff there could got through the stuff and take whatever they wanted - the rest would go to Salvation Army. Ed set everything up like a mini-garage sale in hopes that some of the items will find good homes.

My Dad's things

Next week we’re going to Las Vegas for a few days for Ed’s conference, and then to Chicago to visit my dad. He’s in a nursing home and not doing too well. A few years ago he moved to Chicago at the age of 81 because he wanted “to go back home.” Dad’s always had a bad back and it was getting progressively worse – partly, I’m sure, because he left the warm dry air of Tucson to live in the cold, damp air of Chicago. But he finally found a physician who said he could help him.

Two years ago he underwent major surgery – probably not a wise decision at his age and in his physical state. And, frankly, I’m angry that the neurosurgeon convinced him to do it. He’s never been the same. Went from living totally independently to spending one month in the hospital, four months in a nursing home, then moving to Assisted Living. Eights months later he was back in the nursing home and that’s where he is now. He’ll never get any better than he currently is, and it’s so sad to see him living in one room, wishing he could still drive, not being able to go anywhere unless one of us takes him there, spending his time watching tv and waiting for someone to visit.

When he moved, we put all his stuff in storage hoping that someday he’d need it again – knowing in our hearts that he probably wouldn’t. So now, after almost two years, it’s time to disperse his things. I called the storage place last week to arrange to go through the boxes to be sure we recover anything that has emotional value, and to find out what they could do to help us with the remainder. The supervisor told me that they could, for a fee, take it all to a dumpster! I asked if they could give it to a charity and he said, no, all they could do was dump it. I fell apart. I’d had a really busy and stressful week at work and to hear this news, on top of all that, was just too much. Those are my dad’s thing! The bookcases that he loved. The new kitchen table set that we helped him buy. The painting of piano keys that my brother bought for him. So many things. The thought of all of them winding up in some landfill just broke my heart. My poor daughter had to listen to my mini-meltdown - thank god she was home!

Luckily my aunt (who lives in Chicago) was able to find a local charity with a truck that would pick up whatever we didn’t want to keep. So now we’ll spend one day going through everything one last time and putting aside the special things, and the next day loading the remainder on the truck for the charity. At least his things will have homes. And at least we still have him for awhile longer.

Words to Live By

"Penny, penny, make me lucky. I'm the one who picked you uppy."

This was one of my Mom's favorite sayings. Any time we found a penny on the ground, we had to pick it up and recite the mantra. Doesn't work with other coins, only pennies.

Mom had other pearls of wisdom:

• Don't raise your hand in anger or it will turn to stone
• If you make a funny face, it may stay that way for the rest of your life
• Shut up and answer me!! (that was always a quandry)
• A mother is a mother and a father is a father (she got that one from my grandfather - not quite sure what it meant)
• A man will treat his wife the same way he treats his mother
• If you eat too fast, you'll get worms
• If you eat too much candy, you'll get worms
• If you eat something that fell on the floor, you'll get worms
• If you eat garlic, you'll get rid of worms!! (remember, we're Italian!)
• Famous people die in threes (when the third one died, she was always relieved that it wasn't her!!)
• Whatever you do on New Year's Eve, you'll do for the whole year (no clue....)
• All I want for my birthday is for you to be good
• This hurts me more than it hurts you (pre-spanking speech)

My daughter has a great one that she uses with her kids, Vika and Eamon . One day we were all making cookies and Eamon was eating too much of the raw dough. She told him to stop or he would have "buena kakats" (probably not the correct spelling but, hey, it's Russian!!). Literally translated it means a unpleasant trip to the bathroom. So she's well on her way to developing her own motherly pearls.

A Holiday Tradition

Growing up, Holiday meals with my Italian family were interesting events. There was always lots of food, lots of laughter and one important tradition. After dinner, usually over dessert and coffee, we would tell stories about my dad. He would be sitting there laughing along with us, sometimes just shaking his head.

Three of my favorites are The Lamp, The Washer, The Water Bucket.

The Lamp - my aunt and uncle moved to Tucson a couple of years after we did and bought a new house. They waited patiently for it to be built and finally they had the walk through, signed the papers, and were ready to move in. But, first they wanted to show it to my parents. My uncle was taking us on the grand tour and we got to the dining room. One of the new-fangled things many new houses had was a pull-down lamp over the dining room table. Not really sure of the purpose, but people thought they were cool (until they banged their heads a couple of time). So, when we got to my uncle's dining room, my dad said, "What a nice lamp. Is it pull-down?" Before my uncle could answer (the answer being "NO!"), my dad reached up and yanked on it. Nice and hard. Pulled the darn thing right out of the ceiling!! Broken lamp, plaster everywhere, the whole group just staring at the mess.

The Washer - my dad loved to do things around the house - build, repair, etc. Some projects worked out okay, but others were fraught with disaster. Okay, disaster is too big a word, but definitely fraught with, "oh, for pete's sake!!". One such time was when the washer broke. Turned out the hose was old and leaking. So dad carefully cut a hole in the wall to get to the hose. Bought some new tubing, carefully replaced it, cut a board that would fit the hole, sanded and painted it, and began to put everything back. This took the whole day and my mother was patiently waiting to wash the loads of clothes that were sorted and lying on the floor in anticipation. Finally dad put the board back on the wall, nailed it on, and managed to run one of the nails right through the new hose he had just installed!

The Water Bucket - we used to take a lot of road trips in our 1954 blue and white Olds (yes, it WAS my father's Oldsmobile). On one of our gas stops - this was back when the attendants actually pumped the gas, filled the radiator with water, etc. - we were done, dad paid, and then we drove out. The car seemed to hit a small bump and so dad backed up a little gunned the car a just a bit so we could go over the bump. We heard the station attendant yelling and saw him walking towards us. Couldn't hear him, so dad backed up. Ran into that same danged bump again but managed to get over it a second time. The attendant yelled again so dad rolled down the window. "My water bucket, you ran over my water bucket!!" the man was yelling. Dad apologized and offered to pay. The man said no and we drove away. I still remember looking out the back window and seeing that station attending sadly holding what can only be described as aluminum roadkill.

Da Bears

For most people, yesterday was just another Super Bowl Sunday - decent game, some good ads, lots of junk food. But for me it was also a bit meloncholy. My dad is living in a nursing home in Chicago and yesterday his Bears were playing! Their first Super Bowl since 1985! He's been following every game and was very excited about the big event. Even though he had to watch it alone in his room at the home (which broke my heart), he was still looking forward to it.

Then they lost.

Normally I don't care who wins the game, but yesterday I was truly hoping for a Bears win for my Dad. No way of knowing how many Super Bowls he has left to watch, and I so wanted to buy him souveniers from the game like I did when his other beloved team - the Chicago White Sox - won the World Series a couple of years ago. He still uses the blanket and pillow I bought after that game.

But, his spirits were good today - he cursed the quarterback and the rain, and said that he was looking forward to next year. Me too, Dad. Go Bears!!

In the beginning

My daughter made me do it! She has had a blog for a year (Four More Feet) - she began it when she came home with the two incredible children she adopted in Russia. They call me "Babushka" which is Russian for grandmother. Growing up in an Italian family (hence the title of my blog!!), I always thought a babushka was a scarf old ladies wore. Turns out it also means an elderly Russian woman. So, I guess that's me! Definitely not Russian, and certainly don't feel "elderly", but no sweeter words were ever spoken than those coming from the mouths of Vika and Eamon when they call me "Babushka"!

The main reason I wanted to start a blog is to try to capture stories of my family, and my life to pass on to my kids and grandkids. My mother-in-law died recently and during the course of the funeral, there were so many great family stories told. I had only known her for the past 7 years, and I found myself wishing I had known her in her younger days. It made me realize how much we miss when we don't talk to the "old people" in the family. They have so many rich things to tell us - it's our history - and yet we often don't want to bother to listen or to ask questions.

My dad is in a nursing home and last summer I found a book called "To Our Children's Children" which is a list of questions that guide a person to relay their stories for their descendants. I took the book and my laptop to the nursing home, asked Dad the questions, and typed the answers. There were some things he was telling me that made him laugh so hard he couldn't talk! I hadn't heard him laugh like that for such a long time. So now I have some of his memories on my computer and this blog will help me share those with the rest of my family and with future generations.