Same Trail, Different Day

 

 I was out for my weekly Sunday morning walk on the Schuylkill River Trail when I remembered walking the same trail back in October after I had my first cataract operation.   The light seemed so much brighter than it had for a while and I was excited about the change.  That was back before I went back to work after being retired for five years, aside the six months I worked very much part-time as a merchandiser for a greeting card company. That work schedule was very flexible and I generally only had to put in about ten hours a week stocking card displays at a few local drug stores.
   
     At any rate, my point is I had gotten used to frequent if not daily walks for quite a while and as much as I enjoyed moving about outdoors on a regular basis it became even more of a joy when my vision improved. It was about a month after my second surgery that I decided I could use a little extra income and I started working for an auto parts company as a part-time delivery driver. Their definition of part-time is a whole lot different than my last job. It involves five hours a day every weekday afternoon and seven hours every other Saturday. When I started out it was fun, challenging, not too difficult. Seven months later it's routine that interferes with my having as much time to take walks, or go for rides, or sit and read or write. I'm tired a lot and irritable and not a person I enjoy being on too many days. My walks are now only in the morning before work if I have time, or maybe every other Saturday, and Sundays.

     I enjoy the additional income,and  have been cutting out some debt I'd accumulated. I recently ordered race and concert tickets I would have thought hard about spending on before, and I just got my first "salon" haircut in years, not to disparage the walk-in hair cut places I've been using, but I'm beginning to question my job choice.  This is a tough one for me, because it brings up the idea of balance which is something that can cause me trouble. Work, relaxation and play, community and solitude, living simply and spending on luxuries or treats are just some examples of what I mean by keeping my balance. For the years when I had to work there wasn't much to think about. and fortunately I had chosen work that allowed me sufficient income.

      I have history at this job, if only seven months. Most of the people are easy to work with and if not, I'm alone in the car a lot of the day anyway.  If I leave to find another job I would have to start with different people, different routine, in other words, change! If this job is too many hours or not the right time of day, I have to decide what I want to do about it.
   
     I know these are questions I have to answer for myself, and hoped that by writing out my thoughts I might get some clarity - not happening yet and that's okay at least it got me to sit down and write, that's something I haven't been doing much of. I don't know if that's a matter of not enough time or writer's block, but I know the book I started has kind of stalled and I haven't been blogging for a while.

     For the last few years that I was working in nursing and feeling drained after decades in that career,  all I wanted to do was retire. After I retired, I was content to settle into a slower pace of simple living for a few years. More recently I've been wanting to enjoy the simple life and throw in some travel, write a book or two, and try new adventures which require money. The problem seems to be now I have additional funds, but not enough time. So one day at a time, I'll show up at life and wait for a sign as to where to go next. Signs will come if I look around.

Summer on Sandy Street.

 

 When I was a kid we lived in a row house in Norristown. On the front steps is where I would sit and play Jacks, wait for the ice cream man, play with my neighborhood friends, and read my books. We would scrub those steps with soap and water and a brush,  and sweep the sidewalk at least weekly in the summertime, that was just the way things were done back then. At night the neighbors would sit outside on the steps or folding chairs after supper - grown-ups talking,  kids playing tag or catching lightning bugs in a jar. It was one of the ways we kept cool when the temperatures got hot.

     Of course there was no air conditioning back then, just fans in the front windows blowing air in and an exhaust fan in the kitchen blowing out. With a house full of people and no such thing as a microwave or spare money for take-out food, meals had to be cooked daily, yet somehow we kept comfortable. Hard to remember what that was like. The bedrooms had fans as well, but the third floor still got too hot for sleeping sometimes and when that happened, we slept on the couch or the living room floor or  sometimes outback on the porch.

     Behind the house our back porch was usually cooler than out front, or  indoors since it was nearly always shaded. Extending over the back yard from the porch were the clothes lines on pulleys. Wet clean clothes were carried up from the washing machine in the cellar and hung on the line in the summer, unlike the winter months when  they would be hung on ropes in the basement. Outdoors they dried more quickly and smelled like fresh air.  There was a metal glider on the porch and a couple of metal rocking chairs and small tables. It was a quiet place to sit and just relax or read or talk. I remember sitting with Grandmom and snapping the ends off of string beans to get ready for cooking, or her teaching me how to sew. She often sat and crocheted or knitted out there, even at night which amazed me because she had been doing those things so long it didn't require sight - it was almost like breathing to her.

     From the porch there were about ten steps to go down to the backyard with a lawn so small that you could mow it with a manual mower in about 10 minutes. There were flower beds on either side, with pansies, marigolds, azaleas, snapdragons, bleeding hearts and a lot of rose bushes. In the summertime Mom or Aunt Marie would set up the wading pool and somehow we would  probably fit about six to eight  kids in that little 5 by 8 by 1 foot high swimming pool.  Grandmom would sit at the end of the pool on her chair and stick her feet in the water. Somehow we also had room for a bench type swing in that little yard and Grandmom would sit out there in the in the shade and keep an eye on us kids.
   

       But the best part of Summer on Sandy Street was probably the garden. Out the back gate of the yard, across the little alleyway and down a few more steps and it was like  you were out on the farm. It wasn't very big, maybe fifty by fifteen feet but there was fresh basil growing on the side as you walked down the steps,  then  grape vines, some pepper plants but mostly what I remember was the tomatoes. There was nothing like picking them fresh off the vine still warm from the sun, nothing tastes better.   So many tomatoes - tomato salad, tomato and mayo sandwiches, homemade tomato sauce.  One incident that I was not present for but I have heard about was the tomato fight between a few of my cousins. There were dozens of tomatoes ripening on the tables on the back porch when Mickey, Dino, Gina and Anna started throwing them at each other. Needless to say, Grandmom was not pleased and started yelling in Italian, so we don't know exactly what she said, but they did not do that again, and they never forgot that day.

      The peppers and tomato plants  needed to be bought and planted every year, but the fig tree was just always there in the middle of the garden.  Every summer it grew bigger and bigger. There was nothing sweeter than the taste of fresh picked figs right off the tree. Year after year that tree produced fruit. For a while when it was smaller, Mom or someone would wrap it in blankets and cover it with a basket to keep it from freezing in the winter, but in time it became too large to contain and probably had deep enough roots to keep it alive. There were enough figs most summers to provide the whole family with fresh figs  for the whole summer and splits were taken from the tree and given away to allow the rest of the family to grow their own trees.

    The house was sold a few years ago and Mom and my sister Mary took a split from the fig tree to plant in her back yard, It has taken years of care and diligence to protect it from deer and landscapers, but that little tree still persists and may finally produce fruit this season. Even if we never get to taste those home grown figs again, as long as we tell the stories, we will have lots of sweet memories.

Enjoying The Ride

  

   "Life isn't a race to be won, but a ride to be enjoyed" I don't know if I heard this some where or made it it up, but it came to mind while I was thinking about the past weekend.
     Why do weekends fly by so fast?  Oh yeah, I'm older and time in general is going faster except when I hit a time warp when time doesn't seem to be moving at its regular pace, or at all. Actually the week was pretty full with a variety of activities, interspersed with my part-time delivery driver job. Though the hours at work fill up the middle of day when I would love to be home writing, or out at the park walking in nature, it's mostly easy to do and allows plenty of time to think, or not, depending on my mood, and is definitely less stressful than nursing was. I just sometimes have to remember, when I'm traveling on a highway, that I'm working and not out for a road trip- no stopping along the way to shop or grab a cup of coffee.

Fun little detour at work

     The previous week ended with Easter dinner at my nephew Bill's home hosted by him and his wife Dawn. It was a fabulous feast of meats, veggies and homemade ravioli, followed by cannoli, cheese pie and chocolate cake. Though only a dozen or so of us were there, about half of the family, it was a pleasant afternoon, just a week after we celebrated my Mom's 95th birthday! Their home is about 30 miles away, so I enjoyed the ride out to the country and back on a beautiful sunny day.

I had an early drivers meeting at seven AM on Wednesday. While I went to work at seven for decades when I was a nurse, I don't generally head out the door that early these days. By the time I drank enough coffee to be awake during the meeting, I was too wide awake to go back to sleep afterwards so I managed to get a walk in before I had to go back at one to start my afternoon shift.

     After work Wednesday evening I went to a celebration with a group of friends I've know for years. There were a lot of familiar faces and some people new to the group and lots of food and fellowship. I especially enjoyed seeing my best friend, Karen, who considers herself directionally challenged. She made the twenty-five mile trip with the assistance of her "directionista" as she refers to her GPS.


     The next day I took a ride to visit a friend in the hospital before work. It was a hospital about 20 miles up the road that I had last been to about six years ago when someone I had been close to back then was a patient there. It was good to be able to spend time with my friend and also to reflect back on the changes since I was there before.

     The weekend began after work on Friday with a trip down Memory Lane at The Suburban Hospital Friends "Spring Fling". It was a long anticipated reunion of present and past members of the Suburban Hospital Family from over the past 40 years or so. It had been talked about and planned for many months and with the hard work and determination of some special nurses, especially Judi and Susan, with some help from some other folks, it was an amazing night.

     During dinner I sat with the second floor staff that I had first worked with at the hospital. We talked about the past and all the fun times, parties, and picnics we enjoyed.  After dinner there was time to mingle with the other two hundred or so folks that came back to share the joy of the old days, dance and take lots of pictures. The hours flew by and before long it was eleven o'clock and time to go home.

     The next morning found me moving a little slow and I got a late start. I met up with my usual Saturday morning friends for a while. Then I headed out for a Pancake Breakfast fundraiser where I got to spend time with a good friend I always enjoy being with and another woman I had not seen in a while and had some delicious blueberry pancakes.
     By this time it was almost noon and I got on the road to Oley, PA for the Antique Motorcycle Meet that my brother Bob has been telling me about every spring, and my friend Mike looks forward to every year. I got a little turned around and got to the Reading Motorcycle Club and walked around watching some racing before I realized I was not at the Meet I was looking for. By the time I found the right spot things were winding down, but I got to check out some antique bikes and had a fun ride out to the country.

Sunday was a day to rest up before heading back to work, but I found time to walk around the Empowered Light Holistic Expo in Oaks. I got grounded, talked with some beautiful people and got some products from vendors I had not met before.

 All in all I have had some varied opportunities to hit the road and spend time with others and alone last week. I am grateful to be enjoying the ride!

Gravy Every Sunday Chapter 1

Back when I was growing up on Sandy Street, one thing I could always count on was gravy every Sunday. Early in the morning the house would begin to fill with the delicious aroma of meat balls, sausage and beef cubes browning in oil on the stove. Grandmom ( Carmella) or my Mom, Mary, would start the gravy, (we never called it sauce) with tomato paste and water. Next she would add fresh basil from the garden, the sweet smell of which would cling to your hands after picking it. It was a treat to snag a meatball from the skillet before the meats all went in the pot, but you would get in trouble with Grandmom if you tried to dip a piece of Italian bread in the gravy. Nothing tasted better than gravy bread though, if you could get away with it.
     Once the initial work was done, the pot had to slowly simmer for hours so all the flavors would blend together and the meats cook to just the right texture. So whether you were lucky enough to sleep in, getting ready for Church or having breakfast after Mass, the background of the morning was that wonderful fragrance. The gravy and meats were served with spaghetti on most Sundays, either homemade or from the macaroni factory.
     Back when I was young, we had a houseful living there.  Grandmom's four bedroom row house was home to herself, my Mom, brother Bob, sister Mary and me (Jackie), as well as Aunt Marie, Uncle Mid, cousins Nina, Gina, Dino and Tommy. Uncle Joey was in the Army and when he was stationed at Fort Dix, across the river in New Jersey, he would often come home on the weekend and sometimes bring along a friend. There was always room for one more. In addition to those of us living at the house, we were joined every Sunday by Uncle Tony, Aunt Peggy and their, then, eight children who lived three blocks away, though Aunt Peggy often took the opportunity to stay home and clean.  When it was time to sit down and eat, if someone was missing they would get a phone call telling them they had better get there now. I was about to say or else, but there was no or else. Get there now was the message as everyone in the family remembers it.
     Sometimes, especially on holidays like Christmas or Easter, all of Grandmom's family - her nine children and their spouses and children would gather for dinner and this required an extra special meal. Homemade ravioli in place of the usual spaghetti. My brother Bob would be sent to the local cheese maker with two containers to get fresh ricotta. Grandmom or my Mom would start the dough by throwing half a bag of flour on the table and add in the eggs and water, then mix it by hand to the right texture and consistency.
     While the dough was made right on the table, the filling was mixed in a bowl using simple ingredients of ricotta, eggs, grated cheese, salt, pepper and parsley. The cheeses and the dough had their own aroma, distinct from the scent of the gravy and every bit as sweet to remember.

Carmella with a few of her grandkids

     When the entire family of about forty or so gathered for holiday dinners in our row house, logistics called for eating in shifts. I know the littler children ate at the kitchen table. My memory is vague on the sequence, but I kind of remember men, older children, and young married couples taking turns and finally the women got to sit and eat. Somehow there was always enough food to go around and always room at the table whenever someone brought a guest. My sister had been dating Bill, for a couple of weeks when she brought him to Christmas Eve dinner. He survived that first gathering and stayed. They married a while later and for their wedding Grandmom made a tray of her homemade cookies which are still a part of most any family gathering, but that is a story for another time.
 

Georgia Getaway - Racing, Road Trip and Relatives

   Saturday morning, 2 AM. Time to wake up, though I  didn't get near enough sleep. I tried going to bed earlier, but wasn't able to fall asleep until 11. My friend Mike aka Electric Horseman would  be picking me up around three  to head to the airport for a 6 AM flight to Atlanta for American Flat Track racing event # 2 of the season- Atlanta Short Track. He goes to the races all season and has for years, but I was going to experience my second live race after being introduced to flat track last season and going to Williams Grove in PA last September. My plan was to go to the race and then take a road trip to visit  my nephew Bob in Cleveland,GA and then ride over to West Columbia to see my brother Mike and make it my first real vacation in four years. After going back to work in November having been retired for five years, I was ready for a break. Since we were both headed to Atlanta, we decided to fly down together and split a car rental for the day before he headed back that night and I traveled on.

   The flight went smoothly even though  I was seated next to a rather large gentleman.  Being thigh to thigh with a complete stranger for two hours made it difficult for me to fall asleep for the duration of the trip.  My first time at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport was amazing just for the size of it all. I think I have flown about ten times in my life this far, so I'm getting used to navigating airports, but was glad I did not have to find my way around alone that morning.

     Just as we picked up the rental car I got a cramp in my foot, so Mike was kind enough to drive and once we got out on the highway I was very grateful I was not at the wheel. Six lanes of traffic for the first 18 miles or so was a little daunting, especially on 3 hours of sleep.

     We stopped for breakfast and coffee at Waffle House. Something I had been looking forward to for some time, having read about it as part of the race day routine in some of Mike's stories. (Check out ehorseman.blogspot.com - he's a great writer BTW)
 We finally arrived at Dixie Speedway around 11 AM - hours before any racing, but with plenty of time for me  to walk around the pit area getting into raceway vibe while the Electric Horseman started doing his media work.

First glimpse at Dixie Speedway 

     The afternoon started out chilly but warmed up pretty soon for the series of practices and  qualifying  races. In between races and during  track prep, I walked around enjoying people watching, speedway food, t-shirts shopping, and listening to a young guy  playing a guitar and singing.

     There were a few  riders that were injured during the afternoon races and again I see that the Rookie Class of '79 and the AFT family are supporting these young men and their families financially as well as in prayer. Injuries are unfortunately a part of this sport as in most sports. See Rookies of '79 on Facebook for a glimpse of the work these guys do for injured riders.

     Before the evening progressed to the semi and main races, there was the Open Paddock where the fans get to meet the riders and get autographs. While the only autograph I got was on the back of my new Jeffrey Carver Jr /the Wizard T-shirt, I did shake hands with and talk with a few of the other riders I have become familiar with through Michael's stories and following the races on Fanschoice.tv.  Good luck this season to all.

      The evening races were exciting and began with an invitational race that included a couple of the members of the class of '79. By the time the main Singles and Twins races ran, the weather had gotten cold and where I stood between turns three and four, I was having trouble following the action, but the energy of the crowd kept me trying to see what I could. Last year's Singles Champ -PA rider Dan Bromley got a podium and the Main Twins race was won by another PA rider -Brandon Robinson. I admit I'm partial to the local talent, but enjoy the family spirit of American Flat Track.

     Grateful again that Mike drove the car back to the airport/hotel area where we couldn't find an open diner so we shared another Waffle House meal. I think I'm good on the race-day Waffle House thing for a while. Mike had a very busy and productive day and it was interesting to almost be able to see the wheels turn in his mind as we ate and talked.  He had a very early flight home so we said goodnight and he went to the airport and I conked out shortly after 1 AM . Wow! Can't remember the last time I was awake the better part of 24 hours!  I have to say, for being within three miles of the airport, Country Inn and Suites by Radisson was surprisingly quiet and I was able to rest up for my trip out to see the family the next day.

     Sunday morning hotel breakfast was pretty good. I ate my fill for the ride out to see my nephew Bob and his family. My brother Mike rode his cycle up from South Carolina to Bob's area the night before  which saved me a few days travel and a few nights of hotel stays. I opted to stay off the Interstates since I was not in a particular hurry and I wanted see a little bit of the city of Atlanta and the northern Georgia countryside. It was a ninety mile drive that took me about two and a half hours.

     It was a pleasure to take my time driving and not have to be concerned with getting to locations in a timely manner to deliver auto parts, though I am grateful for the job to have the extra cash. There's just something I enjoy about the feel of the road passing under my wheels and letting my mind wander as I ramble down the highway.  I just don't get that feeling on a crowded Interstate or short trips on local streets.

The closer I got to Bob's, the more it reminded me of going to the area up north to visit them in the mountains a few years ago before they decided to head South. They had lived way out in the country and for some reason, I had never gotten up there until shortly before they moved even farther away.

They have been in Georgia over three years and my brother Mike has been in South Carolina even longer. I had thought about heading South to visit before, but the retirement income has been a bit tight. 

It was just about noon when I got there. Bob and Mike were sitting outside talking when I arrived and Bob's wife Tracy came out to greet me. I had brought a little Pennsylvania with me - a bag of Wawa coffee, Corpolese pepperoni and cheese stromboli and a box of Gertrude Hawk chocolates. We brought those inside and talked a bit with my great niece Shannon before we all headed back outside to sit on the porch and catch up.

     We talked for a couple of hours about family and books and racing and motorcycles, working vs. retirement , Southern living vs Northern way of life.  I found out that Georgia does not have state safety inspection so there are cars held together with duct tape and plastic, but they are a lot more courteous toward motorcycles. Bob told how the first time he rode his bike into an intersection with stop signs and the three cars there all waited for him to go, he got crazy waiting for them to move until they all waved him on. On the other hand the speeding laws can be very heavy handed and you can go to jail and permanently lose your license for something called super-speeding. They filled me in on all manner of local wild-life of the animal and insect variety as well. I found out that the Atlanta airport area was not the only place where it was hard to find a diner. Apparently diners are not a common place to eat down there. 

     It was a great afternoon sitting with family I haven't seen much of for years, but still feel connected to.  Bob had made a pot of sausage and peppers as well as braciole which was delicious, Not only was it good to have a home cooked meal after the speedway food and Waffle House, but to share a family tradition on a Sunday afternoon made the trip complete. 

I started back to Atlanta not long after dinner and whether it was the after effects of the pleasant afternoon and good meal or erratic sleep schedule, the fresh air or the road, I was finding myself getting sleepy and stopped at Panera's for coffee and grabbed a sandwich for later back at the hotel.

My plan was to relax at the hotel indoor pool or hot tub when I got back, but a few families with children already had the same idea, so I printed out my boarding pass and turned in early.

Monday morning I again had the hotel breakfast buffet- I ate just enough to get me to the airport, turn in the car and get to the right gate in plenty of time. I checked the departure gate on my phone before I left so I would have an idea where to go in this busiest airport in the world, (according to their website).

Traffic at 9 AM wasn't bad for the three mile trip and it didn't take long at the Hertz center to complete the return. I found my way to Terminal A and got to the assigned gate way early and the next scheduled departure from there was to San Francisco which was delayed due to bad weather out there. I checked the departure board and I was now leaving from terminal B. No problem, still plenty of time and actually the connecting walkway was decorated in greens and blues and played bird song music as I walked through. I felt almost like I was out for my morning walk instead of at the airport.

I again felt like I was getting my morning walk when the third time I checked, my plane was now scheduled to leave from the opposite end of the terminal. 

Eventually we boarded and I had to check my carry-on because there was no more room in the overhead bins. That was fine with me after dragging the darn thing all around the airport all morning, at least I wouldn't have to tote it around PHL.  The flight was uneventful, but I was curious that the Delta people suggested keeping your seat belt on in case of "rough air". I think the last time I flew they still called it turbulence. Funny the things your mind ponders after vacation. I also mused as we prepared to land how easily a plane can go from thousands of feet in the air at hundreds of miles an hour to drop down, touch ground and stop in a matter of minutes. Every hour of every day. Just saying, I found that very cool.

My driver, Dave from Exec Limo was waiting for me at the escalator. We got my bag and I climbed in the back seat. Nice to be riding up 476 instead of driving it in that little yellow and green car. I was home before rush hour and happy to have had such a pleasant trip and happy to be home.

Maybe tomorrow I'll start planning the next getaway, but for now it's time to relax. 

It's All About Balance

   

When I began writing last year, I began looking to other writers to gain advice and support. Along the way I found the Memoir Writers Circle at a local library. I have only attended a few times so far and have found a very helpful group of fellow writers. The prompt or suggestion this month was to name an important childhood experience.

     If I had to name the event from my growing years that has had the most impact in my adult life my first response is my parents separating when I was little and my second thought was learning to read. I don't even know how old I was when my folks split, but it was before I started first grade. The effects back then included feeling different, because my Dad wasn't living with us, like all the other neighbor's Dads. My Mom went to work and my sister and brother were in school so I was home with Grandmom all day and pretty much left on my own while she was cleaning and cooking and doing laundry and sewing or knitting.

        I watched a lot of TV back then- all the morning and afternoon kid's shows and pretty much kept myself occupied playing. drawing, coloring and such. I do remember my Dad coming around  sometimes and teaching me my ABC's and letter sounds and how to string letters together to form words. I'm not sure when I actually started to read, but I could recognize names on the mail that arrived at a young age. I was surprised to find out others kids in my first grade class didn't know how to spell their own names. I guess I thought everybody had someone at home to get them started with learning. Once I learned to read I spent a lot of time at the library, back when kids could safely walk around town on their own,  and I would sit for hours with my nose in a book.

Not my picture- but Iwas the kid who couldn't get close enough to the TV

     So out of the effects of my parents separation, I learned that I could keep myself occupied, I could manage with little supervision or company, I could read and discover and create new things. I learned  not to cause more stress for my Mom or the rest of the family by keeping to myself.  Whether these are positive or negative traits, it's all a part of how I have navigated my life.

     In high school, I was placed in the academic group because of how I did on tests, but in my junior year, when it was my time to see the guidance counselor about going to college, I said I was just going to get  a job. No one in my family had gone to college and I knew we didn't have money. The counselor didn't offer any suggestions but on the last day of exams that year there was an announcement for openings in the tech school for the next year. Tech school was fairly new and I didn't know much about it, but I went down and applied for data processing, because culinary arts and cosmetology didn't appeal to me. So I just kind of signed up without taking it over with the counselor or my Mom or anybody. Again, I just figured things out for myself without asking for help.

     My work life proceeded with little direction. I worked for a plumbing supply company as their IBM department right out of high school til I got laid off. Then I went to work at the phone company til I spent a few days in the hospital and decided maybe I would become a nurse. I went to a local hospital school and got a job a few towns away. I got married and eventually started working closer to home, then switched to another hospital where I worked til I retired.

     Over the years, I have learned to reach out for help, companionship, and advice, but it has not been easy. I still like to listen to my own ideas first, but have found it can be a good thing to let other people in, that others can be consulted and relied on for support.

     Last Spring when I was first inspired to try writing, I spoke with someone I had met who writes as a sports journalist and I got help and encouragement from him to start writing a blog. I also found a Writers Group that meets up the road once a month which I attended over the summer which was a nurturing place to start sharing this new experience. Then this past September, I was introduced to this lovely Memoir Writers Circle which from the first night felt like a gathering of friends. I am so grateful to begin to share my work and myself with others and learn to keep my balance between solitude and community.   

     I am still learning to find balance and will probably continue to work on this in different aspects of life. I don't have to do everything alone, I enjoy spending time with others, but there are things only I can decide for myself.