In My Life

I'm listening to the Beatles this morning.   While all their songs resonate with me, there is one on my playlist in particular this morning.  "In My Life."  It goes a little something like this:

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all


At the tender, confused age of 15, armed with my crisp, new worker's permit and a racing heart, I stepped through the doors of a local pizza place and got my first real job.  Dennis took a chance on me, and I became just another "counter girl" at a little pizza place called Noble Roman's.  I wasn't blond, but I was certainly ditzy.  I answered the phone, folded empty pizza boxes, rung up pick-up orders and stocked the salad bar.

The place was filled with teenagers, although I was one of the youngest in that motley crew.  Along with being the youngest, I was also one of the only "private school kids" working there.  I wasn't sure where I fit among them.  Rockers, all. Smokers, most. 70s hippie kids, some.  With a pack of Marlboros at the ready, I fit with most.  But, it may have been the only thing I had in common, at least at first.  I worked there for a total of five years, so really, this is where I grew up.

But I Digress... I loved them all.  They made me laugh (oftentimes at myself), and collectively they made work my favorite place to be.  Some were better friends to me than others.  I fell in and out of love with one or two of them, but all of them were good people.

Today I'm thinking about one of them in particular.  Matto was a few years older than me.  About my height, medium build, blonde hair.  Every memory I have of him is kind.  We partied together.  We smoked together during breaks, me cracking up over his very dry sense of humor.  He always had a smile, and always seemed happy, laid-back, like nothing really got to him.

Matto was what we call "good people."

About a week ago, I had lunch with another of these Noble Roman's employees - really, the only one I am still in touch with after all these years (19, but who's counting?).  The first thing he said to me when I got in his car for lunch was, "Matto said to tell you 'hello'."  "Awww," I responded, "I love him!  How is he?  Please tell him 'Hi' for me."  He promised to do so.

Matto died a few days later.  A massive coronary took his life way too soon.

We'll all say our goodbyes at his funeral service today.  And it will be good to see all those faces, most of whom I haven't seen in almost two decades.  But as a writer, I guess this is my way of saying goodbye.

I am sorry that I didn't get a chance to say "hi" to you in person, Matto.  Another reminder that life is too short, and we shouldn't wait to pick up the phone, open our arms, make time.

Rest in Peace, old friend.

"Stand aside, I've got this." OR "Wait, what's a 7/10 split again?"

I'm not a bowler.  Nor do I play one on tv.

But, seriously, how hard can it be?  You've got a wooden lane at the end of which, in orderly fashion, stand 10 pins.  You take one, shiny ball the size of a 4th grade classroom globe, and throw it (under hand, mind you) down said lane, with the intent of knocking down the aforementioned pins.

Easy enough.

Yeah, right.  This is not a game to be taken lightly.  This is serious business.  10 frames is all you get.  At best, 2 chances per frame to get those godforsaken pins to fall, domino like, one into the next, so as not to leave a single pin standing.

I am competitive by nature.  I don't particularly like to lose.  Who does?  It feels good to win, or to at least be seen putting up a pretty good fight.  Last night, on the lanes, I did not appear to put up much of a fight at all.  Although, after three games, some sort of blind luck kicked in (or maybe it was just the bowling gods feeling sorry for me).  I actually broke 100...and won (by a mere 3 points, but still...).

But I digress.  I may not be a great bowler, but I did have a great time.  Despite the 3-1 loss.

When the weather turns, I'll be hitting the links, and hoping that I fair better on the fareway than on the lanes.

Stay tuned come April...

Why It Takes a Mom Longer to Get Well

Strep Throat.  I don't think I've had it before.  If I have, it's been a damn long time.  Let me tell you, it's miserable.  It hit me Tuesday morning. It is now Saturday afternoon, and I'm finally, finally feeling better.  My 12 year-old came down with it on Wednesday.  He's up and running today.  It hit my 14 year-old yesterday.  He's already good to go.

Why is it that it's taking me so long to recover?  Could it be because despite the diagnosis, despite the attempted rest, I still had client emails to reply to, spreadsheets to update and budgets to finalize?  Or maybe it's because just when I sat down to rest, my three kids were home, hungry for dinner, bored, out of clean clothes.

Or possibly, it was the fact that one by one they fell sick, like dominoes.  And needed me.  Or rather, I needed to take care of them.  It's what I do.  I've determined that I'd much rather take care of the sick than be the sick.  Who wouldn't?

So, I administered medicine, heated soup, filled cups, checked temperatures.  And attempted to get well myself. A mom can't afford to get sick.  We don't have TIME.

Throughout this week, my 6 year-old daughter has remained (knock wood) healthy.  Which, technically, is a good thing, right?  But, it also meant that she had more energy than the rest of us put together.  She wanted to play, read books, build legos, and on and on.  Is it horrible of me to think that if she just had a touch - the slightest touch - of this Strep, that she might slow down, lie on the couch, take naps like the rest of us?  Horrible, I know.  I'm a terrible mother.  Just awful.

But I digress, we are all on the mend.  I'm feeling human again.  Hell, I've even showered and dried my hair!  Today I am wiping every visible surface with antibacterial clorox wipes, scrubbing the kitchen and baths, washing every sheet, pillow case and blanket in hot water.

I'm still tired.  But, there is a Super Bowl tomorrow, and if anyone is still brave enough to enter through our front door, the least I can do is lose the germs.

At Last...Or... We've Lost a Great One

In a blog I wrote almost exactly one year ago, Name That Tune,  I quoted one of my all-time favorite songs, by the legendary Etta James.  I read on Yahoo news this morning, that James died this morning.  You can read the news piece here.

I love music.  It can set or transform a mood.  Music cuts across all barriers; class, race, sex, age, education.  It's boundless and eternal.  While I can certainly appreciate the sound, the beat, the tone of a song, as a writer, I am much more drawn in by the lyrics.  And Etta's were perfect in their simplicity.  There are others that come to mind, which I've also mentioned before, but I think the occasion warrants a reminder.  Supertramp, Maroon 5, RUSH, the Beatles.  And also a dear friend, whose lyrics remind me of that thinking man's band, because there is so much meaning behind simple words, melodic phrases.  He is truly talented.

But I digress, Etta James may be lost to this world, but her music will certainly live on forever.  And that song...At Last...which has so much meaning and memory for many of us, I'm sure, including me, will always be as timeless as it was back in the 50s, as relevant as it is still, today.

Rest in peace, Etta.

Nice and Easy Now...Step Away From the Phone.

We've all done it.  Or at the very least, we've seen it being done.

You're sitting at dinner with your family, friends, significant other (bad dates do not count here), when you get a text, a phone call, an email.  You immediately reach for your phone, which is sitting just to the right of your water glass.  Whether it's on silent or vibrate does not stop us from checking and rechecking our phone.  Is there always something better going on?

Or how about this one: over the holidays you're enjoying time with family and friends.  You're sitting in the living room with your brother-in-law, your sister from out-of-town, maybe a few cousins you see just once a year.  All of you sitting with your phone in your hands, heads down, fingers tapping away at a tiny keyboard.  "Enjoying time with out of town family and friends" you post.  Really?  Enjoying time?

Why is it that we feel we have to post constant updates about our lives, to the detriment of... our lives?  Maybe you've read recently about the young blogger's idea for the restaurant phone game.  A quick run-down in case you've been out of touch:
When you sit down at a restaurant, everyone at the table sets their phone face-down in a stack.  Regardless of whether the phone rings or vibrates, beeps or dings, no on is allowed to so much as look at their phone.
If at any point during dinner you do look at your phone?  Dinner's on you.

I like it, but, I can hear the arguments already. "My kids might call,"  "It could be work," or "I'm waiting for an important (whatever)."

What in the world did we do before cell phones?  How did we survive before smart phones let us check our email, facebook status and twitter feeds every 14 seconds around the clock?

But the truth is, I'm a bit addicted, too.  It's the nature of our society in 2012 to want - require - 24/7 access.   It's what we've become accustomed to - the norm.

And really, if we go back to the 70s (my childhood, the bee gees, bell bottoms, the good 'ol days), didn't we, in essence, do the same things, just with different distractions?  It's not like we all used to be the Cleavers and suddenly the iPhone has turned us all into cold, heartless, family-haters.  It used to be that we gathered with our friends and relatives over the holidays, sat together in a cozy family room, with a blazing fire in the fireplace and... watched TV.  So really, let's keep it in perspective folks.  Think of all the good the smart phone has done.  Toppled governments, for God's sake!  Saved Lives!  Started conversations, raised money, connected lost relatives, high school friends...

But I digress.  Back to that mobile phone restaurant game.  Is it so hard to unplug for an hour?  90 minutes tops?  Maybe.  But I am going to give it a shot next time I'm out to dinner and let you know how I do.  Give it a try, and let me know if you were successful...