Monthly Archives: November 2007

Visions of Johanna

It’s Thanksgiving night. Just got back from dinner in Garfield with brother Frank, his wife Elaine and their family. It was pleasant, though of course a family dinner wouldn’t be the same without a little drama. Today’s drama concerned Elaine and her son in law, Rob and it was all about control. Elaine cooked a turkey, Rob’s mom was bringing lasagna. Don’t even mention the ham. Not enough space in the ovens for both so there were hurt feelings. It was all resolved by the time we were able to sit and eat but still drama was a small undercurrent. Brother Frank still gets flustered, the aphasia still rears it’s confounding head and it can be frustrating for him and whomever he might be speaking to. But the progress he’s made is impressive, that’s for sure.

It was an easy enough day though. Bill left early this morning, I got out of bed around 9:00. Missed the morning shows, caught the parade. Didn’t watch it though. Strolled out into the streets of Hoboken, 60 degrees or so. A lot warmer than previous Thanksgivings. I remember it being very cold when I was a kid, being dragged off to Lodi High School to watch some stupid football game. I had no interest in being there at all. Didn’t even enjoy watching the lunk heads tossing the pig skin. I guess the whole thing was to get me out of the house, and that meant my brother Brian having to take me to the stadium against his will and certainly against mine.

I wanted to be home, near the pile of brownies on the green bubbled plate, near the jar full of Pheffernusses that would remain there, until sometime in January, next to the homemade apple pie and mincemeat pies. The apple pie would go fast, the mincemeat pie would linger for a few days, and I don’t recall if it ever made it into the refrigerator. I know that I ever ate any. It looked nasty. It was more of an older person’s dessert and I was a kid. In many ways, I still am.

So dinner was good, lasagna was a bit on the salty side, and I’m not used to lasagna on Thanksgiving. I really didn’t eat much, not that I’m hungry now, but I don’t want to look like a gavone so I usually hold back. Gone are the days of coming home with care packages. They now go to the younger set which is fine and I write that halfheartedly. I wouldn’t mind some pieces of turkey, I mean all I had was one piece of turkey at dinner anyway. I’m grateful, I’m grateful. Really.

It was a good day in Garfield with Frank and Elaine and their daughters Meghan and Cory and Meghan’s husband Rob and his parents, brother and sister and her husband. Haven’t seen most of them since Meg and Rob’s wedding in June, of which I told Meg it was the best party I had ever been to and it certainly was.

Now Bill and I are home, having gotten a ride from Cory and Elaine. I gave Cory two jackets that Julio gave me years ago, a regifting from him vis a vis his ex girlfriend Susan Morphine. One was a suede bomber jacket, the other a distressed leather jacket that just needs a new lining. She tried them on, they were a bit large for her, so I told her to give it to a friend or the salvation army. Elaine tried the black suede jacket and Cory said she looked like Danny DeVito which was funny because at that point, Elaine was at the bottom of a small slope with Cory and I on the higher part, and she did resemble Danny DeVito in stature. True story.

Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again

Finally it’s Friday. No actually it’s Wednesday. The day before Thanksgiving. This time many years ago, my mother would be peeling apples at the dining room table in preparation for apple pies. I would occasionally help, sprinkling sugar on the apples, and I would usually get carried away and start eating the sugar out of the sugar bowl. That probably could explain a lot about the state of my teeth. I would sometimes eat spoonfuls of sugar, just to see if it made the medicine go down in the most delightful way. I never stayed around for the medicine, the sugar would usually just make me vibrate and eventually crash. I always wanted to be able to vibrate my way through walls much like the Flash in the comic books, but the walls wouldn’t let me in and would leave me bruised and confused with a sweet tooth wanting more more more.

I was quite a comic book addict when I was a kid, stealing quarters from my father’s money jug, where he would empty his pocket change each night when he would get home from work. Before he got home though, I would lift the jug and out would come the change. I would scoop up what I though was an amount that wouldn’t be missed and walk over to the Rochelle Park Delicatessen and make my purchases. Eventually my father found out about my skimming, or as he would refer to it, stealing and I would get the crap knocked out of me. I wouldn’t have thought about it if I didn’t see my brother Brian doing it first.

On occasion I would help Freddie Cilantro with his paper route and he would pay me in soda and comic books. Then brother Brian and his pal John Ninnetta hassled Freddie and my newspaper career was over. Why they hassled Freddie, I had no idea. Both my brothers, Frank and Brian had paper routes. I never wanted one, though my parents felt it would build character and I eventually was suckered into delivering the Shopper, one of the free newspapers that were given out in Lodi. Each week I’d get several hundred newspapers, and several hundred bags and have to fold the papers into the bags, then deliver them somehow. An old rusty shopping cart was found and I would push it around, throwing newspapers onto stoops or into bushes. I wasn’t a very good paper boy and the distributors reported my errant deliveries so that ended my career, leaving me with not much in the character department.

A friend of brother Brian’s, Scott Malone was almost molested one time when he was collecting for his paper route. Some guy invited him in and supposedly made a move causing Scott to run out of there. I was intrigued and it was decided that it would probably be a good idea if I didn’t have the paper route anymore. Plus I got pink eye a few times, from rubbing my eyes with my ink stained hands. It wasn’t worth the $3.00 each week, not that I ever saw the money. I think it went into my father’s jug.

This is what was up in Hoboken today.
112107-hoboken-001a.jpg

112107-hoboken-002a.jpg

112107-hoboken-003a.jpg

112107-hoboken-004a.jpg

112107-hoboken-006a.jpg

112107-hoboken-007a.jpg

112107-hoboken-008a.jpg

The tree guys. I asked them if they were there for business or pleasure (you never know). They were on business, looking for the Asian Long Horned Beetle.

Thanks to Harpy and Song with their suggestions. They worked and I’m happy.