Guest Blogger...Jayne...Christmas in Long Beach New York 1962

It was the Christmas Season in 1962. I was living in Long Beach, New York, a small city on the south shore of Long Island, about 25 miles east from New York City.

Our family was my Mom and Dad, my brother, my three sisters, and our dog 'Skippy' – named after Skippy peanut butter – (so original).

My Mom was in the hospital having back surgery. She was a nurse – when nurses didn't make much money – and she had broke her back, years before, helping a patient, and endured years of back pain and drug treatments to try to alleviate the pain – so many, that at times she couldn't function.

My Dad was a bus driver in the town – again at a time when bus drivers made very little money, and, unfortunately for us, my Dad had a drinking problem, so there was never enough money for anything.

In fact, we were poor.

Well, as I said, my Mom was in the hospital, my Dad wasn't home – he was working the night shift and wouldn't get home till 3 in the morning. It was a typical cold, damp, nasty December winter night.

(As I remember this: for all of us from the North – isn't it nice to be in Florida in the winter, even though we miss the cold and frozen noses – for about 10 seconds!)

We were, my brother and us four girls, sitting around in our drafty house, feeling very sorry for ourselves, watching cartoons on our small black and white TV. We had our tree and we'd already
been to McClellands '5 & 10 Cents' store and bought our usual gifts with our pennies and nickels – out of which we had to save enough for a slice of Gino's Pizza – our shopping treat.

So there we were, again, feeling sorry for ourselves because we really didn't have much, and knew we weren't going to get anything else. Then the door-bell rang. We yelled to each other: “Get the door!”

“No, You get it!”, “I'm too small!” Finally my older sister and myself went to the door and when we opened it, no one was there.

But what was there were boxes – boxes with nuts, and oranges, and apples, and bananas, canned goods, potatoes, carrots, candy canes, a big turkey, and a box of clothes, and coloring books and crayons. We couldn't believe it! We looked down the street but didn't see anyone – we thought the Christmas Elves had visited us – we were so happy and so excited!

And the GOLD DRESS with the belt that was mine – I loved it!! I'd never had a dress like that

and I felt like a princess.

And our voices and hearts said “Thanks!”

Jesus said: “Blessed are those who give unto the least of these...”

and happy are those, the least, like me at the time, who receive.

….....

He's My Brother... Ya Know....

One of Life's GOOD GUYS and a painful, agonizingly painful, end to that life. Why? Another mission to fulfill somewhere else? One of life's insufferable ironies? Part of "THE" Plan? I don't know..those who say they do, or may know will be utilizing a 'faith' I apparently do not possess. Pain is relative...think of a tooth-ache..a kidney stone... a stubbed-toe...cancer.. eating away rendering a body to become, slowly, inexorably, devoid of what? life itself as we normally define life? A month ago a family friend told his wife in the morning the intense, unremitting pain from the cancer he had been unsuccessfully fighting for months, and the accompanying bodily indignities he'd been suffering, from hospital, drugs and various other treatments, could no longer be tolerated, and this good guy, yes, another of life's good guys, who'd raised an adopted daughter, and had been for years, along with his wife, caring for the grandkids, went into his backyard and put a bullet in his head... my brother has not done that.. he has been attended by his local hospice people..those 'angels' on earth...and suffered his intense, never-ending painful demise, for over six months now...with the prayers first offered for his recovery now offered that he go quietly, peacefully and ...soon....What a terribly dark blog post this is.. yet how can it be otherwise? This guy, this my only brother, one of the nice people walking this earth, ends his 'walk' in horrific agony, his strong will and determination reduced to ..what..? and why? Does anyone really have the audacity , yes, a harsh word, the audacity, to offer any explanation other than the 'unfortunately, life, and it's end, can and does happen like this, even to someone we love, and who is so deserving of dignity, and joy and fulfillment?? '

One of my very favorite musical renditions by the Mormon Youth Chorus and Symphony contains this lyric:

"Because the smile upon your face

Has made this world a better place,

I put my heart into this prayer:

May God be with you Everywhere.
May you be blessed with love and health,

May you be blessed with friends and wealth,

But most of all may you be blessed

With time

To enjoy them "

But this good guy...my brother...was not...

Goodbye, Bob

.....

KJ & GG.... A Tale of Lincoln Road Miami Beach

KJ finished putting on her sneakers - GG wouldn't take you anywhere in sandals - grabbed the bag with the munchies and "I'm ready to go" she said. Down the stairs - GG didn't like elevators - thru the Mirage Condo lobby, saying hello to the folks working there ..building security.. valet .. "They're so nice" KJ told GG when they were outside and crossing Collins Ave. - looking both ways two times (GG has a lot of 'rules') and down the block to Harding Ave, and "Here comes the bus!" "My first bus ride" KJ told GG, as she put the dollar fare into the machine next to the driver.

The bus is crowded and at first they're sitting up front on the 'sideways' seats. An old lady was yelling that someone was trying to take her stuff (A big plastic bag full of ..what? KJ wondered.. from the looks of the old lady, and the bag, who'd want the stuff?? Spanish, Russian, French,Yiddish, Italian... all these languages KJ listened to, and even English both "British" English, GG said, and "American" English. Then GG said "There's a seat by the back door..we can look forward, and watch people get off". GG is a 'people watcher' and KJ thought: "So am I" And so many different people to watch: people who looked like they'd been shopping, people sleeping, reading, texting (and even talking on cell phones), people who looked like they were coming home from work tired looking..and going to work with a look saying "I want to go anywhere else", Black (not really black - mostly brown - people, white - really not white, but every other color you can think of - people, 'yellow' people - you know -Asians - (or, as GG, jokingly, with no intention of being not politically correct, said: " Maybe really jaundiced white people" (GG believes you need humor to get thru this adventure called life and too many folk take life too seriously, even if it is very serious, but some things just aren't .. makes sense??)), but KJ didn't know what jaundiced was, and when she asked, the question went unanswered because GG, even in a quiet place has trouble hearing - here on this noisy bus - traffic, horns, sirens, voices - it was a one way conversation, but KJ didn't mind - she knew by the expressions on GG's face what he meant most of the time.

And then the bus got to South Beach and off KJ and GG are to go explore Lincoln Road.

KJ and GG love walking around - the street allows only people walking, and sitting on benches by fountains, or at restaurant outside tables - wow what great people watching again.

As they go past every kind of store you can imagine: Walgreens, jewelry, electronics, you know , sell Ipods, MP3s, laptops, DVDs, all that stuff, and dresses, tee shirt stores, umbrellas (not needed today thought KJ - just a sunny blue sky - post cards - you name it, they sell it on Lincoln Road. GG tells KJ "Remember this: every single store you go past - doesn't matter what it sells - every single store, and the people who work in them, have just one goal, one reason for being there, and that is to separate you and your money - always, every time".







And one of the stores did just that: McDonalds where KJ and GG bought fries and took out slices of Jewish rye bread from the munchie bag, and made a delicious french fry with ketchup on Jewish rye sandwich... wow.. deeelicious...

As they walked off their sandwich, they came to a Jewish Temple, and GG tried to open the door, but it seemed like it was locked, and then it opened, and a Latino looking guy asked GG what he wanted and GG told him they'd like to look inside, but the guy said "You can't" and started closing the door, and GG asked "Why not??" And the Latino looking guy answered "It's only for people who belong here". GG started to say: "But we do belong here - I'm 50% Jewish and KJ is 12 1/2% (along with Cherokee, English, German, Polish, Irish,...)" but the door was shut - the Latino looking guy didn't care what we were. "Anyway, whoever heard of a Latino Jew in Miami Beach" GG said, then added, "And whoever would think a freckled-face girl like you, KJ, would be Jewish, and Cherokee Indian among other things, so who knows". KJ thought "GG

says 'Indian', meaning Native-American, or to our Mormon ward, Lamanite, not India 'Indian'.

KJ wonders if GG does this on purpose.. "have to ask Mom".

And then time to head home - KJ and GG find a bus that's going to go north on Collins Ave and let them off right in front of home, and that bus is crowded, and noisy, and interesting and when they get off, their adventure to Lincoln Road is added to life's experiences and, memories.

.........

...SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS....

I remember my Mom saying that one of the hardest things of getting old, sometimes equal to or even surpassing personal health problems, is the constant loss of those you've shared life with, who know you and your history. As I've watched the years go by, I've come to sadly appreciate my Mom's thought.

" ...Friends we knew follow us through
All the days of our lives
Love we shared waits for us there
Where our wishes forever reside...."

The list of people who have 'moved on' continues to grow. As I remember those who touched my life: Jakob Mestechkin-my violin teacher, my Dad, my dad-in-laws Karl and Phil, Richard and his toddler son, Mike B, Trudy, her Mom, Freddie, Karen, my mom-in-law and best care-giver Pat, my son Michael, Lucretia, just about all my aunts and uncles, most cousins, in addition to friends, landlords..the O'Conners, Pizza Vito.., neighbors, I realize my world of those with whom I can reminisce: '...remember when we...' is now but a handful.
Yes, of course 'new' family, friends, neighbors appear, but they didn't know me as a kid, as a young adult, entering but not yet totally mature (in many ways), my parents, or the town I grew up in, stressful and fun and productive times at various jobs, or my kids when they were small, or, even now. And I don't even know of others who had 'speaking parts' on 'my stage' who are 'gone', which is, I guess of no particular consequence since I obviously haven't been in communication anyway, but...if I was...

Webster defines Miracle "an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs". And Brittanica as "extraordinary and astonishing happening that is attributed to the presence and action of an ultimate or divine power".

Two immediate family members, a brother and a sister, are battling cancer. The sister may be in remission; the brother is under hospice care. Yet...yet the brother maybe, could be, should be, a coming 'miracle'.
If prayers actually are heard by miracle grantors, then the very diverse languages and religious philosophies from which the prayers on his behalf spring, should impress and be rewarded. As one who is not certain of the efficacy of prayer beyond the one praying, the closeness of grief, intense pain,
sorrow and the sense of loss, the words to say, to comfort, to recall memories, tempt the path of
"well, I'll address that 'power', that 'intervention', through my own words and thoughts, and, maybe.."


"...Silent Sea tell this to me
Where are the children
That we used to be..."

....Sorry For Your Loss....

.....Somebody.....

"I coulda been somebody.." laments Marlon Brando as 'Terry' in 'On The Waterfront'.
"I used to be somebody...now I'm somebody else" observes Jeff Bridges playing 'Bad Blake 'in 'Crazy Heart'.
Music is my memory-minder, my map meandering much of my (alot of mm's..mmmm?) life thus far. As I have my morning coffee gazing out over the Gulf of Mexico listening to my music on my cordless headset, each song seems to be an instant reflection/reminder/memory, of an event in my life, or, more realistically, one of my many lives. I agree: 'I used to be somebody..now I'm somebody else' and this is, and has been, a recurring evolution, not just for me, for anyone who cares to ponder their own life's adventures at any given time. (I nearly said: '...given point in time..' a favorite phrase when I programmed at the New York Stock Exchange (a memory provoked by David Houston's "Almost Persuaded").
Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" is Flushing N.Y., a tree bought at a lot on Horace Harding Blvd, and a usual gift of an Eveready flashlight I used as a railroad train on the floor; "Winter Wonderland" is MaryLou Simeone and Pomonok Golf Course, Donna Fargo's "Happiest Girl in the USA" is Vito and Pizza and blankets and "Silver Bells" is Jayne on a freezing winter night before Christmas Eve on Fulton Street in Brooklyn, "We're Not the Jet Set" (George & Tammy) is WHN and the LIRR CountryPolitan ride to Madison Square Garden,"Sh-Boom" (Crew Cuts) is 1954 and I'm mowing the lawn (and getting paid for it!) at the just built Queens Ward in Little Neck, "Hush-a-bye" (Mystics) is Gene as an infant in the little house in Granger, and also lying on my back in the hallway between the two bedrooms Sandi, Sharon & Diana were in on Darby Circle, and this song ended my usual 15 minutes of singing each evening, and the Eagles "Take It Easy" is a call from Michael in Arizona, The Seekers "Morningtown Ride" & "The Carnival Is Over" is LIRR Valley Stream/Boston Lynn, "Sea Cruise' (Frankie Ford) is Long Beach's West End, and a visit to Melissa and Pat in their apartment behind Chauncey's, and no one else but Mary & I wanted to go dance, so we went into a neighborhood bar (among about 20+ bars) on West Beech St, to be greeted by the bartender, who'd been there for years and years (Long Beach continuity) saying: "You must be one of the White girls", "C'Est Si Bon" (EarthaKitt) is a young maturing teen-age me reading "Battle Cry", Vivaldi's "Violin Concerto in A-minor" is the Third Street Music School Settlement and Town Hall and Cora Gordon and Miss Lucy Neidhardt and a box of fresh peanuts with a string tied around it from her local drug store on Lincoln Place in Brooklyn, "Each Cooing Dove" "We're All Going Calling On The Kaiser" is Dad and "I Had Such A Pretty Dream Mama" and "Holy City" are Mom.
In "Diner", Shrevie (Daniel Stern) says to his wife Beth (Ellen Barkin): 'When I listen to my records they take me back to certain points in my life'. Amen.
At 71 years of age, I can very honestly say I want to be younger again; obviously I know "Father Time won't change his mind and take me back that far" (from "Molly Ann" by Cal Smith 1977), yet, I can sing along with George Burns: "I wish I was eighteen again and going where I've never been. Now time turns the pages and oh, life goes so fast. the years turn the hair all grey'...
And yet, I like who I am, now... I liked who I was when I was somebody, and, also, somebody else, whoever that somebody was at that time, whatever time the music evokes .
"Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind..Sweetened through the ages just like wine....Quiet thoughts come floating down and settle softly to the ground..." (music by The Lettermen and also by Elvis...)
I'm Somebody who used to be Somebody Else.....And the adventure called life continues...
......