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| First Ever Blog |
| October 1, 2025 What is your favorite Halloween memory? I have never been a fan of Halloween. As a youngster, even in grade 6, I was pretty much a loner. I had a serious sugar craving, but generally stayed as far from chocolate as possible. I’d seen its explosive reactions on so many preteen and teen faces. So I was quite content to settle into my shared bedroom and construct whatever with Lincoln Logs and several Erector Sets. My mother wasn’t. She insisted I go out Trick or Treating. When I said I had no costume, she grabbed a 3x5 card, printed PRESS on it in big bold letters, stuck it in the hatband of one of my dad’s fedoras, and plopped it on my head. Then she threw me out. Keep in mind this was the late 1950s when suburban kids roamed the streets with no parents in sight. I latched onto a group with some familiar faces and figured I’d just tag along. It was fine. Then there came some popping noises from two blocks away followed by lots of screaming and shouting. (Unfortunately, these days you’d automatically think gunfire. But no, it was the 50s.) We all recognized it immediately as eggs hitting windshields and metal autobody parts. It was over in a few minutes. Apparently some kids from that area had successfully targeted a Chevy with a couple of high school boys. We just laughed and moved to the next house. When we got to the area of the egging, two cars turned into our street. Before they reached us the popping and splatting noises began, quite loud now. About a dozen teen boys leapt from the cars to chase down the culprits. Young kids were screaming and running in every direction. I just stood on the spot. (Too many early experiences had taught me if you run and get caught, the punishment was worse.) A pair of girls were speeding in my direction just ahead of three teens when one of them tripped sliding face first along someone’s front lawn. I knelt to help her when the older kids rushed up. The girl rolled over and eyed the teens. “Touch me and my brother Anthony will kill you,” she yelled. “Kelly and I weren’t throwing any eggs, so you can keep chasing those other kids.” She turned her head indicating where some of the kids could still be seen. One of the angry teens clearly recognized her. “Yeah, that’s Tony D’s kid sister. She’s okay. What about you?” he looked daggers at me. I opened the handles on my candy bag, holding it out for him to see. “No eggs, and not much candy either,” I said. “C’mon let’s go,” he chuckled, and they took off back to the chase. I had recognized the girl as soon as she’d rolled over on the ground. Teresa D’Angelo. Prettiest girl in my class and maybe in the entire sixth grade. I helped her to her feet and she smiled while brushing the grass off her princess costume. “Thanks, Kelly. Darn, I lost my candy collection.” “Here.” I handed her mine. “It would’ve gone straight to the trash at my house.” “I know,” she laughed, flashing a dazzling smile. “It’s just a ton of pimples in fancy wrapping.” Then she lunged forward and hugged me, planted a kiss on my cheek, then let go. “I gotta find my friends. See you in class, Kel.” When I got home, my mother asked where my loot was. I said, “I gave it away. It’s just a ton of pimples in fancy wrapping.” And I went to my room, very confused and ambivalent about how I now felt about Halloween. It turns out that was the only happy Halloween I ever had. These days I try to find a library that’s open late that night, or someplace else I can hide until it’s over. |
| September 25th, 2025 On this day in 1928, Chicago’s new Galvin Manufacturing Corporation is officially incorporated. In 1930, Galvin would introduce the Motorola radio, the first mass-produced commercial car radio. (The name had two parts: “motor” evoked cars and motion, while “ola” derived from “Victrola” and was supposed to make people think of music.) Prompt: Did you know car radios had been around this long? What year was your first car? Did you listen to the radio when you're driving or did you prefer silence? How about now music or silence? ========================================================= My first car was an eight year old, high mileage, ‘57 Ford Fairlane 500, blue and white. In a move completely out of character for them, my parents bought me the car without consultation with me, and without my ever asking. I suspect they just wanted me out of the house. In addition to providing the luxury of leaving for school a whopping 15 minutes later than when I was walking, I quickly found myself with more ‘friends.’ With very few exceptions, I was never convinced whether most of them hung out with me for me or my car. One of the exceptions was Kevin with whom I formed a comfortable co-dependent relationship. He had a surfboard, but no car. Me, the opposite. In summer, we spent countless days at the beach sharing that surfboard, rain or shine. Sometimes we had other kids with us in the Ford. Other days other friends would take the train then find us surfing or tanning. The Fairlane was solid car, regardless of the six digit odometer reading. I talked to people who knew car maintenance, including the auto shop teacher at school, and learned to do most of the work myself. Partly to save money, partly because deep down I’d learned to never really trust anyone. For the same reason, though I often listened to the rock ‘n roll stations in the area, I kept the volume moderate. I liked to sing along, since in those days you could actually hear the lyrics, but I knew better than to let someone in the back seat, or anywhere else on the road, catch me off guard. This is the result of growing up in a violently abusive family. I miss that reliable old car. |
| September 16, 2025 Write about the most beautiful thing you've seen this week. Don't have much time today, but this was too easy to pass up. Visiting my grandson this morning I stopped in front of the big hall mirror. There in my arms, tiny cheek pressed up against mine, was my great granddaughter, Terese, pointing at the reflection and radiating a smile that would put sunshine and rainbows to shame. I call her 'my joy' because nobody can look at that face and not smile. |
| September 15 What is your favorite quote or song? As a long-time runner, I’ve picked up dozens of inspirational quotes which can be used as mantras in training and races. Sometimes they can lift you out of a slow downward spiral, while at other times they can help you find another, fast gear as the finish line nears. Here’s a few: General positive mantras, good for more than just running: You got this. I can do this. I am capable. I can, I will. Keep it strong. Be strong, don't Quit. One step at a time. Do or do not, there is no try. Breathe and Believe. Always finish strong. Start where you are - Use what you have - Do what you can. If you don't move forward, you're always in the same place. The body achieves what the mind believes. Running specific: I am a runner. Run now, brunch later! Don't think, just run. This is my pace. Run tall - stay strong. Bad days happen - just finish. Run the mile you're in. Just keep running. It's not about how fast you run, it's about how far you go. This is who I am. This is what I do. Feel your run. Feel the joy that is running. Favorite songs come and go; much depends on my mood. Although many songs can change my mood. But here are some of the songs I listen to more than any others. You won’t find much in the way of recent music here. I prefer music in which I can hear, understand and relate to the lyrics. Besides, I’m old. Early Times: Dream Lover - Bobby Darin Surfin' USA - Beach Boys Kokomo - Beach Boys King of the Road - Roger Miller In Bad Times: God Only Knows - Beach Boys Around The Corner Of Your Eye - A Teens Blue - LeAnn Rimes You're Breakin' My Heart - Harry Nilson In Better Times: Come On Eileen - Dexys Midnight Runners The Longest Time - Billy Joel NSync - This I Promise You I'd Rather Ride Around With You - Reba McEntire Bop Till You Drop - The Nylons Last Dance - Donna Summer All Times: Mariah Carey - All I Want for Christmas Is You Kiss - Rock and Roll All Night |
| Prompt: “Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”--Cormac McCarthy What do your scars say about your past? My scars are primarily internal, and I have little need of them to remind me that my past was real. The few external marks I bear merely identify me as being occasionally careless, unfocused or just plain unlucky. Burns on my forearm from sizzling cooking oil; stitches on my forehead caused by colliding with the edge of a diving board while trying to impress a special spectator; a permanent bump below my left shoulder after a rocky landing from a parachute jump. Normal stuff. But they sometimes make good conversation starters or diversions. |
| Day 3935 September 5th, 2025 Prompt: Let this quote inspire your entry today-- "…there is a clarity about September. On clear days, the sun seems brighter, the sky more blue, the white clouds take on marvelous shapes; the moon is a wonderful apparition, rising gold, cooling to silver; and the stars are so big. The September storms…are exhilarating…" -Faith Baldwin As beautiful as Ms Baldwin’s quote is, I can agree with only the first phrase, “there is a clarity about September.” From my earliest memories September has always meant a plunge in life’s emotional joys. As a child it meant the end tree swings and swimming holes, picnics and stickball, sneaking off for adventures. As I grew it signaled the demise of sailing, ballgames, and sitting on the roof of the shed holding hands and imagining the future. Still later, putting the surfboard in the basement for another year. September for me, and later us, meant a rapid slide into a mire of school or work related mud bogs: homework, projects, new or extra chores, added responsibilities, and alarm clocks. But eventually, as October could be glimpsed on the horizon, far off, yes, but visible, the path began rising. Halloween was a shining star promising candy for the young, cuddling and more for the post-pubescent, and the approaching food-fest of Thanksgiving. Not to mention all the glories of December. No, the only ‘clarity’ I ever gained from September were the occasional gifts of silence as our cherished little trolls climbed aboard the school bus. But maybe that’s just me. |
| Day 3933 September 3 Write about sugar cookies. Sugar cookies. Don’t like em. Don’t make ‘em. Don’t eat ‘em. So, today started off by doing laundry, sheets and towels. Then had to rearrange my meager finances a bit as my sister needs to borrow some bucks so her daughter can do some much needed repairs on her house. Well, that’s what family is all about. She was there when I was about to become homeless and took me in. And her husband helped me get the job I ended up doing for the next 20 years. This afternoon I cooked a lamb leg steak for the first time. I don’t eat meat very often, but for some reason I got an unusual craving for lamb chops. The supermarket butcher I spoke to said they didn’t any lamb chops, but suggested the leg steak would be a great option. Easier to prepare, way less fat, and shorter broiling time. He was right. I overcooked it a bit, but otherwise it was great. And I’ll know better if there’s a next time. This is a non-running day for me, so I’m going to catch up on some writing, then settle down to watch an old movie. Maybe two. |
| Day 3932 September 2 I've been ill recently. Write about your favorite hot or cold beverage when you're feeling ill. I’ve been very fortunate in that I rarely get sick. I also somehow escaped having allergies like my siblings. I might suggest a different father, but we all look so much alike that’s hardly likely. When I have had a cold or flu, I found herbal teas were most satisfying. And for sustenance, any type of low-sodium chicken soup and tomato soup are my friends. Plus lots of plain water. Then I take some nighttime sleep capsules and sleep as much as possible. |
| Prompt: On August 26, 1939, the first televised Major League baseball game is broadcast on station W2XBS, the station that was to become WNBC-TV. Announcer Red Barber called the game between the Cincinnati Reds and the Brooklyn Dodgers at Ebbets Field in Brooklyn, New York. Do you remember the first baseball game you saw either in person or on television? Are you a baseball fan if so, do you have a favorite team? How do you feel about the prices of the tickets? ============================ I do not remember my first baseball game. I do, however, remember being a staunch Brooklyn Dodger fan for no reason other than that my father and brothers were Yankee fans. I’ve always felt ambivalent about the game. On the one hand, I like numbers, and baseball probably has more statistics than any other major sport. Also, because it is a relatively slow paced game (unlike hockey or basketball), I could do my homework or other projects in the living room without the family constantly jumping up and down and screaming. On the other hand, I often wondered how the outfielders and dugout bench-warmers managed to stay awake; 90% of a game usually involved the pitcher, catcher and batter. So much for childhood. I have one unforgettable baseball memory. In 1992 I lived in Toronto, in a 16th floor apartment near the city center (centre to Canadians). When the Blue Jays finally defeated the Atlanta Braves in game 6 to win the World Series, the first ever team outside the US to do so, Mary and I went out on the balcony expecting to see and hear everyone dancing and singing in the streets. It wasn’t happening. But we did see thousands of fans out on their own balconies quietly raising their beer and wine glasses. Mary looked at me, put down her Molsons and started loudly clapping. I immediately joined in. Within 30 seconds, everyone in the area was applauding and cheering. And shortly thereafter they were pouring out of the highrises and into the streets. Mary and I laughed our heads off. Then we had our own celebration. Toronto, eh. |
| BCoF prompt for August 23, 2025 “So many books, so little time.” ― Frank Zappa Are you like me with a stack of books waiting to be read and reading more than one at once? Or are you a person who only reads one book at a time and then replaces the book when you have finished the one you were reading? Tell us about your reading style? I am a two-, and occasionally three-, books-at-a-time reader. One at my bedside, one in the bathroom, and sometimes one in the home office. I don't always read at bedtime, but when the day's been hectic or troublesome and I can't stop rehashing events, emotions and conversations, I grab something to break the spell. My recent choice is Bored of the Rings by The Harvard Lampoon. It's hilarious and puts a smile back on my face. Various gastrointestinal issues can result in occasional bathroom visits lasting longer than normal. For these times I prefer a book, or better yet a series, whose author has conveniently provided reasonably short scenes and frequent narrative breaks, so I can easily find a place to pause. My current selection is the chronicles of Brother Cadfael by Ellis Peters. It's a series of murder mysteries set in early 12th century England wherein a Welsh Benedictine monk, Cadfael, aids the law in investigating murders. No explosions. No shootouts. Just interesting reading, and very well written. I don't have an office read right now. I usually have one only when I want or need to check out something someone has recommended or passed on to me. Or when I need to research something. |
| BCoF Aug 22, 2025 Prompt: Discuss this quote in your entry today- “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche I didn’t get this at first so I Googled the quote. Turns out most authoritative sites claim Nietzsche never said this. But it’s the quote, not the author, that’s important here. Once I understood the quote, two memories came quickly to mind. The first is a scene I’d bet many people have experienced. At a friend’s birthday party we were in the backyard gyrating to rock and roll from the record player on the back porch. When I took a break to grab some lemonade I heard birthday boy Martin’s grandfather muttering about his grim outlook for the future based on our failure to distinguish between good music and ear-splitting noise. Perhaps an hour later I noticed him smiling as his head gently bobbed along with the beat. I can’t remember the song playing, but I know now he was finally able to ‘hear the music.’ The second recollection is more humbling. The day after a geometry test, Mr. Lind was handing back the graded papers. He made a special point of singling me out as the only student to get the final question, a proof, correct. I was proud of myself for getting the answer, but I was very confused by the fact that no one else had. I remembered that when I read the question, and thought about it, the basics of the answer became obvious in a minute or two. As I looked around the room, I started wondering how the other kids couldn’t see this. A week or so later, I was feeling embarrassed in art class as my attempt at painting a simple farm scene was met with laughter and ridicule. My good friend Susan leaned over and said, “Well, you can see numbers and shapes in your head in ways I just can’t. But I can see pictures and colors in ways you can’t. So let’s only laugh with each other, not at each other.” Susan was really the smart one of us. I miss her. |
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