We all have embarrassing moments. Well, everyone except Toby who I've never even seen even look uncomfortable or slightly embarrassed, though he should have been a few times since I've known him.
A couple of years ago, I had this flashback embarrassing memory I would like to share.
A few years ago, a neighbor who lives down the street from us asked if I would feed his dog when he goes out of town.
I don't remember what breed of dog it was, but it was a HUGE breed. The dog was also very old and docile. Her name was Honey and she was easy to care for.
This man barely knew me other than simple greetings as I walked by his house every morning on my walk with Bo, so no, I didn't think it was odd (sarcastic) that he gave me a spare key to his family's home so I could come in and feed his dog twice a day. I presume he was either desperate, or instinctively knew I was trustworthy.
As payment, he would always leave a bottle of wine on the table for me.
Anyway, as I was walking Bo by his house on an afternoon just two days after I had spent a weekend feeding Honey, Ralph informed that he had to finally put Honey down.
I was caught off guard and immediately broke down into the ugly cry. I usually have time to emotionally prepare for bad news. I'm very sensitive and even more so when animals are involved.
I think I caught Ralph a little off guard with my reaction also. He just stood there alongside his two tween boys staring at me blankly and uncomfortably.
I knew they were uncomfortable and I was beyond embarrassed of my loss of control over my emotions in front of a trio of "manly"men, so I quickly gathered myself as best I could, changed the subject and asked the tweens if they were going to be devils for Halloween. It was Halloween eve and they were holding what looked like devil pitchforks so I assumed they were trying their costumes out.
Ralph laughed and replied, "No we are about to go gigging." Okay, it was just time for me say my goodbye's and move on down the street.
Most embarrassing moment award.
Showing posts with label Memories From the Past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memories From the Past. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Close To You
It's interesting the way an old song can take you back in time. If the song made enough of an impact it can evoke a memory associated with the experience you were having at the time.
I have many songs associated with many different memories, but there is one song in particular that every single time I hear it I have a very vivid visual of exactly what I was doing the very first time I ever remember hearing it.
The Carpenter's "Close To You" is that song for me.
It was summer in the early 1970's. My mom and dad were taking me and my brother to Dauphin Island for the day. My brother and I were always excited about going to the beach. The beach always seemed to make Mom cheerful and relaxed and dad always played with us. We especially loved it when he would let us climb up on his shoulders and jump off into the waves.
The radio dial was on a local station as we headed down Dauphin Island Parkway to our destination. Close To You came on the radio. My brother and I were in the back standing up on the back floor board with our hands grasping around the back of the front seats where our parents sat. This was before the days of all those pesky seat belt rules. We all sang along in chorus together as the song played along.
I felt so happy we were going somewhere fun.
For the past 40 years each time I hear that song it takes me back to that day we were headed to the beach. The memory is ingrained in my brain forever.
HERE is a video my brother uploaded a few years ago on Youtube of one of our family beach days.
I have many songs associated with many different memories, but there is one song in particular that every single time I hear it I have a very vivid visual of exactly what I was doing the very first time I ever remember hearing it.
The Carpenter's "Close To You" is that song for me.
It was summer in the early 1970's. My mom and dad were taking me and my brother to Dauphin Island for the day. My brother and I were always excited about going to the beach. The beach always seemed to make Mom cheerful and relaxed and dad always played with us. We especially loved it when he would let us climb up on his shoulders and jump off into the waves.
The radio dial was on a local station as we headed down Dauphin Island Parkway to our destination. Close To You came on the radio. My brother and I were in the back standing up on the back floor board with our hands grasping around the back of the front seats where our parents sat. This was before the days of all those pesky seat belt rules. We all sang along in chorus together as the song played along.
I felt so happy we were going somewhere fun.
For the past 40 years each time I hear that song it takes me back to that day we were headed to the beach. The memory is ingrained in my brain forever.
HERE is a video my brother uploaded a few years ago on Youtube of one of our family beach days.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Do You Know Who I Am???
While browsing Pinterest the other day I came across a picture of one of those old VW vans...like the Scooby Doo van if you will, but bright yellow.
Every time I see one like it it brings me back to a memory of a night when I was around 18 years old.
At that time I was dating (and engaged to for a short time) a guy named Alan. I met Alan in the elevator of the hospital where I worked. We both worked the evening shift. My job was transporting patients by wheelchair to and from X-Ray, dialysis, etc. and other misc. duties like collecting T.V. rental monies. Alan worked in Shipping and Receiving. We sneaked in every chance we could at the snack bar, hallway or...the elevator. Because we worked 5 days a week in the evenings our weeknight dating was limited to the night owl hours.
Alan was a serious, preppy guy who casually wore Izod golf shirts or button-downs and pleated khakis. He also had future plans, goals, and aspirations...refreshing but not my usual type of guy..at the time anyway. Besides his good looks, I'm pretty sure what attracted me most to him was his black 1969 Fast Back Mustang. To this day, I have absolutely no idea what attracted him to me either....me, the girl who listened to rap music, smoked cigarettes and wore clothes that closely resembled something hippies would wear.
After a year long courtship Alan presented me with an engagement ring on Christmas Eve 1984. Two months later by the end of January 1985 of the next year he decided that I wasn't good enough for him to marry and broke off our engagement. He was probably right. I loved muscle cars but I never played the preppy part very well. Even so, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit heartbroken.
Even so, thirty years later I still have a couple of love letters he wrote me and a few pictures of us at Dauphin Island where we hung out that summer of 1984 with our circle of friends on his Hobie Cat Catamaran. Those times were some of the best in my memory bank of life...
Looking at my life now it's hard to believe there was ever a time I did something other than laundry, dusting, and preparing meals for the better part of my day...
Sorry, I got a little sidetracked in my memories there. Anyway....
....Alan was a car guy. He had a souped up midnight blue Toyota truck with dark tinted windows he drove to work and a 1969 Fast Back Mustang that he drove for 'pleasure' and on the weekends.
One late night Alan was dropping me off at my house after a night out. For whatever reason he always parked his Mustang on the curb when he came over. When he left I walked out with him to his car so we could say our goodbyes and get in our last smooch of the evening.
At that time Dave Straker, a local meteorologist lived across the street from us. He drove a bright yellow VW 'Scooby Van'.
As I walked with Alan out to his car 'Dave' was pulling out of his driveway across the street and proceeded to back right into Alan's Mustang. It was dark and very late at night and Meteorologist Dave hesitated for only a second before driving off.
Alan was cursing and hollering at 'Dave' as he drove away and I was like "Shhhhhh.....that's Dave Straker!" Alan said, 'I don't give a shit who it is he just hit my car!.'
I wonder: Did 'Dave' drive off because he was drunk and didn't realize he hit a vehicle? (it was very late at night) or did 'Dave' not even realize he hit something? Or was it because 'Dave' was 'Dave' and knew people in high places that could get him out of trouble??? I have no idea.
It's been so long ago I don't remember what ever came of the incident after that night...
Every time I see one like it it brings me back to a memory of a night when I was around 18 years old.
At that time I was dating (and engaged to for a short time) a guy named Alan. I met Alan in the elevator of the hospital where I worked. We both worked the evening shift. My job was transporting patients by wheelchair to and from X-Ray, dialysis, etc. and other misc. duties like collecting T.V. rental monies. Alan worked in Shipping and Receiving. We sneaked in every chance we could at the snack bar, hallway or...the elevator. Because we worked 5 days a week in the evenings our weeknight dating was limited to the night owl hours.
Alan was a serious, preppy guy who casually wore Izod golf shirts or button-downs and pleated khakis. He also had future plans, goals, and aspirations...refreshing but not my usual type of guy..at the time anyway. Besides his good looks, I'm pretty sure what attracted me most to him was his black 1969 Fast Back Mustang. To this day, I have absolutely no idea what attracted him to me either....me, the girl who listened to rap music, smoked cigarettes and wore clothes that closely resembled something hippies would wear.
After a year long courtship Alan presented me with an engagement ring on Christmas Eve 1984. Two months later by the end of January 1985 of the next year he decided that I wasn't good enough for him to marry and broke off our engagement. He was probably right. I loved muscle cars but I never played the preppy part very well. Even so, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit heartbroken.
Even so, thirty years later I still have a couple of love letters he wrote me and a few pictures of us at Dauphin Island where we hung out that summer of 1984 with our circle of friends on his Hobie Cat Catamaran. Those times were some of the best in my memory bank of life...
Looking at my life now it's hard to believe there was ever a time I did something other than laundry, dusting, and preparing meals for the better part of my day...
Sorry, I got a little sidetracked in my memories there. Anyway....
....Alan was a car guy. He had a souped up midnight blue Toyota truck with dark tinted windows he drove to work and a 1969 Fast Back Mustang that he drove for 'pleasure' and on the weekends.
One late night Alan was dropping me off at my house after a night out. For whatever reason he always parked his Mustang on the curb when he came over. When he left I walked out with him to his car so we could say our goodbyes and get in our last smooch of the evening.
At that time Dave Straker, a local meteorologist lived across the street from us. He drove a bright yellow VW 'Scooby Van'.
As I walked with Alan out to his car 'Dave' was pulling out of his driveway across the street and proceeded to back right into Alan's Mustang. It was dark and very late at night and Meteorologist Dave hesitated for only a second before driving off.
Alan was cursing and hollering at 'Dave' as he drove away and I was like "Shhhhhh.....that's Dave Straker!" Alan said, 'I don't give a shit who it is he just hit my car!.'
I wonder: Did 'Dave' drive off because he was drunk and didn't realize he hit a vehicle? (it was very late at night) or did 'Dave' not even realize he hit something? Or was it because 'Dave' was 'Dave' and knew people in high places that could get him out of trouble??? I have no idea.
It's been so long ago I don't remember what ever came of the incident after that night...
Monday, May 6, 2013
Grilled Cheese
With Mother's Day quickly approaching I am reminded - thanks to holiday commercialism - of my own mother who passed away a little over a decade ago at the young age of 60.
It seems the longer she is gone - or maybe as I age and experience the highs and lows of being a mother - the more I appreciate and miss her.
The other day I made Skye a grilled cheese sandwich for a snack. As I was making the sandwich it brought me back to a childhood memory.
Unlike myself, my mother was really good at keeping her emotions in check. Not that she didn't wear her feelings on her sleeve but she was never prone to explode like a stick of dynamite like I have a tendency to do. I'm volatile and easily provoked. Mom had to be pushed to the far edge before she melted down. I'm sure she can thank her Catholic upbringing for her manners.
Anyway, I can remember one night when I was around 6 or 7 years of age my mother had a major meltdown. She had made grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and I apparently had an issue with the grilled cheese sandwich. I really have no recollection of what the matter was other than it had to do with the sandwich.
My mother totally blew up on me and sent me to bed for the night. All I remember is lying there in the dark in my bed crying my eyes out that my mother that I loved so much was really mad at me.
After what seemed like hours she eventually came into my room with a coat on full of apologies and tears in her eyes.. I'm assuming the coat must have meant that she had fled for a little while to gather herself.
All I knew at the time is that my mother had forgiven me for whatever infraction I had committed earlier that night.
As I made Sky's grilled cheese I had the realization that emotional night had absolutely nothing to do with grilled cheese or with me. It took me over 40 years to make the realization.
If I could talk to my mom now, I would say..."Mom, I understand."
I was going to post a pic of me an my mother and realized that other than the pics of my mother holding me as a baby I have no pics of the two of us together. How sad....
Anyway, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY MOM!!...wherever you are...or wherever I am....
It seems the longer she is gone - or maybe as I age and experience the highs and lows of being a mother - the more I appreciate and miss her.
The other day I made Skye a grilled cheese sandwich for a snack. As I was making the sandwich it brought me back to a childhood memory.
Unlike myself, my mother was really good at keeping her emotions in check. Not that she didn't wear her feelings on her sleeve but she was never prone to explode like a stick of dynamite like I have a tendency to do. I'm volatile and easily provoked. Mom had to be pushed to the far edge before she melted down. I'm sure she can thank her Catholic upbringing for her manners.
Anyway, I can remember one night when I was around 6 or 7 years of age my mother had a major meltdown. She had made grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and I apparently had an issue with the grilled cheese sandwich. I really have no recollection of what the matter was other than it had to do with the sandwich.
My mother totally blew up on me and sent me to bed for the night. All I remember is lying there in the dark in my bed crying my eyes out that my mother that I loved so much was really mad at me.
After what seemed like hours she eventually came into my room with a coat on full of apologies and tears in her eyes.. I'm assuming the coat must have meant that she had fled for a little while to gather herself.
All I knew at the time is that my mother had forgiven me for whatever infraction I had committed earlier that night.
As I made Sky's grilled cheese I had the realization that emotional night had absolutely nothing to do with grilled cheese or with me. It took me over 40 years to make the realization.
If I could talk to my mom now, I would say..."Mom, I understand."
I was going to post a pic of me an my mother and realized that other than the pics of my mother holding me as a baby I have no pics of the two of us together. How sad....
Anyway, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY MOM!!...wherever you are...or wherever I am....
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Plague
This morning I had two cups of coffee. My friend Robin gave us some coffee for Christmas and although I have never been picky about coffee I find the blend she gave us worthy of more than my usual one cup per day.
After my two cups of coffee I threw on my running gear and took Bo out for a run. Now that I'm wanting to run that 5K I'm trying to step up my running a little bit each day. Ironically, when it's cold I dread getting out the door, but once I get warmed up I run easier and farther than I do in the warmer temps. I ran an extra half a mile this morning. My goal is to add an extra mile to at least one or two runs a week.
My original plan for the day was to go shopping for some proper fitting jeans, but by the time I got home from my run, took a shower and prepared lunch it was already close to 1:00pm. By that time I had lost interest in shopping and was already contemplating all that I NEEDED to do around the house.
I prepared Zuppa Toscana for lunch. This Olive Garden favorite got a lot of rave reviews on Pinterest but I'm not adding it to my recipe box because Toby didn't rave about it. He said he liked it but it wasn't one of his favorites. I liked it well enough myself, but then again I like most everything. Oddly enough, my very picky Summer ate two bowl fulls of it. Figures.
Here is a link to the recipe for anyone interested.
I did manage to take 3 bags of goodwill items to the donation bin up the road. Blasted SONIC and their happy hour drink specials! I'm not strong-willed enough to pass the Sonic by when I know they have that large coke for just $1!! Coke is one of my weaknesses and probably one of the reasons I may never lose the flab hanging off the front of my belly.
I checked the mail on the way home and had received a $3 off coupon for any Mrs. Baird item. It was in thanks for my participation in their survey. I checked the address on the front of the envelope to make sure it had made it's way into the correct mailbox. I must be losing my memory along with my sight and hearing because I have no recollection of filling out any survey for Mrs. Baird. I appreciated the coupon and will use it though. :-)
At the end of the day I spent some time sorting my fabric and working on an unfinished quilt....and blogging.
After my two cups of coffee I threw on my running gear and took Bo out for a run. Now that I'm wanting to run that 5K I'm trying to step up my running a little bit each day. Ironically, when it's cold I dread getting out the door, but once I get warmed up I run easier and farther than I do in the warmer temps. I ran an extra half a mile this morning. My goal is to add an extra mile to at least one or two runs a week.
My original plan for the day was to go shopping for some proper fitting jeans, but by the time I got home from my run, took a shower and prepared lunch it was already close to 1:00pm. By that time I had lost interest in shopping and was already contemplating all that I NEEDED to do around the house.
I prepared Zuppa Toscana for lunch. This Olive Garden favorite got a lot of rave reviews on Pinterest but I'm not adding it to my recipe box because Toby didn't rave about it. He said he liked it but it wasn't one of his favorites. I liked it well enough myself, but then again I like most everything. Oddly enough, my very picky Summer ate two bowl fulls of it. Figures.
Here is a link to the recipe for anyone interested.
I did manage to take 3 bags of goodwill items to the donation bin up the road. Blasted SONIC and their happy hour drink specials! I'm not strong-willed enough to pass the Sonic by when I know they have that large coke for just $1!! Coke is one of my weaknesses and probably one of the reasons I may never lose the flab hanging off the front of my belly.
I checked the mail on the way home and had received a $3 off coupon for any Mrs. Baird item. It was in thanks for my participation in their survey. I checked the address on the front of the envelope to make sure it had made it's way into the correct mailbox. I must be losing my memory along with my sight and hearing because I have no recollection of filling out any survey for Mrs. Baird. I appreciated the coupon and will use it though. :-)
At the end of the day I spent some time sorting my fabric and working on an unfinished quilt....and blogging.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Skeletons in the Closet
I'm not positive, but I would think everyone has skeletons in their closets. Some skeletons are just worse than others...depending on the readers perception that is.
Well, I have a skeleton that I'm about to drag out my closet. Although I'm pretty much an open book there are a few select things I keep tucked away for safe keeping. I pull this skeleton out only because it won't hurt anybody and it's no longer a skeleton in my mind. It's a part of my life that up until this post is published nobody but hubby and my son knew about.
Here goes...
Back in October of 1999 my youngest brother, David and his lovely wife Simona were scheduled to be married. Toby and I had been dating only 10 months at the time..living together only 6 of those months and I was 7 weeks pregnant with our first child out of wedlock..and still legally married to my first husband to boot. What white trash right? Why couldn't my two wonderfully successful brothers been born the black sheep of the family????
Anyway, being that I was the groom's sister I had an obligation to attend the wedding. Under any other circumstance I would have been eagerly looking forward to the festive event. Unfortunately for me, the day of their wedding I was in the middle of having a miscarriage. I had cramped and bled all night long the night before and in general felt like a walking corpse both physically and emotionally.
I had never had a miscarriage before but common sense and instinct told me what was happening to my body. I had to change out the thick maxi pads I was wearing every fifteen minutes. I felt like a blood bath but I also knew that I had my brother, his wife, and a whole slew of family members, but most of all my mother, expecting me to be there for the wedding.
My mother was very old fashioned and didn't know all the sordid details of my life. I really didn't want to hash out the pregnant out of wedlock and still married to the ex thing with her while I was in the midst of a miscarriage so instead I phoned my mother and told her that I didn't feel well and probably wouldn't make it to my brothers wedding. I figured at least I had a 50/50 chance of receiving sympathy from her but instead what I got was..'YOU BETTER GET UP, GET DRESSED AND BE THERE FOR YOUR BROTHER'S WEDDING!' In defense of my mother if she had known the true story I'm sure I would have gained more sympathy if I had had the balls to tell her the truth.
So that's what I did. I put me on the thickest pad I could find reinforced with an old hand towel, downed a few Tylenol for the pain, stuffed my purse full of the pads and extra hand towel that I knew would be needed for the duration, put on an extra coat of makeup on my sickly, pale skin, put on the fanciest dress I owned a happy face and made it to the wedding.
As beautiful as it may have been, and I'm quite sure that it was the only thing I remember about my brothers wedding is feeling sick and having to locate a bathroom a few times.
Every year when my brother and his wife celebrate their anniversary I can't help but to look back on the memory of that day and cringe. I cringe not for having a miscarriage but for not being true to myself, not loving myself enough to be honest about my life, for not feeling connected enough with my family that I could tell them what was going on in my life. For not feeling worthy of love.
SAD.
Well, I have a skeleton that I'm about to drag out my closet. Although I'm pretty much an open book there are a few select things I keep tucked away for safe keeping. I pull this skeleton out only because it won't hurt anybody and it's no longer a skeleton in my mind. It's a part of my life that up until this post is published nobody but hubby and my son knew about.
Here goes...
Back in October of 1999 my youngest brother, David and his lovely wife Simona were scheduled to be married. Toby and I had been dating only 10 months at the time..living together only 6 of those months and I was 7 weeks pregnant with our first child out of wedlock..and still legally married to my first husband to boot. What white trash right? Why couldn't my two wonderfully successful brothers been born the black sheep of the family????
Anyway, being that I was the groom's sister I had an obligation to attend the wedding. Under any other circumstance I would have been eagerly looking forward to the festive event. Unfortunately for me, the day of their wedding I was in the middle of having a miscarriage. I had cramped and bled all night long the night before and in general felt like a walking corpse both physically and emotionally.
I had never had a miscarriage before but common sense and instinct told me what was happening to my body. I had to change out the thick maxi pads I was wearing every fifteen minutes. I felt like a blood bath but I also knew that I had my brother, his wife, and a whole slew of family members, but most of all my mother, expecting me to be there for the wedding.
My mother was very old fashioned and didn't know all the sordid details of my life. I really didn't want to hash out the pregnant out of wedlock and still married to the ex thing with her while I was in the midst of a miscarriage so instead I phoned my mother and told her that I didn't feel well and probably wouldn't make it to my brothers wedding. I figured at least I had a 50/50 chance of receiving sympathy from her but instead what I got was..'YOU BETTER GET UP, GET DRESSED AND BE THERE FOR YOUR BROTHER'S WEDDING!' In defense of my mother if she had known the true story I'm sure I would have gained more sympathy if I had had the balls to tell her the truth.
So that's what I did. I put me on the thickest pad I could find reinforced with an old hand towel, downed a few Tylenol for the pain, stuffed my purse full of the pads and extra hand towel that I knew would be needed for the duration, put on an extra coat of makeup on my sickly, pale skin, put on the fanciest dress I owned a happy face and made it to the wedding.
As beautiful as it may have been, and I'm quite sure that it was the only thing I remember about my brothers wedding is feeling sick and having to locate a bathroom a few times.
Every year when my brother and his wife celebrate their anniversary I can't help but to look back on the memory of that day and cringe. I cringe not for having a miscarriage but for not being true to myself, not loving myself enough to be honest about my life, for not feeling connected enough with my family that I could tell them what was going on in my life. For not feeling worthy of love.
SAD.
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