My son went away for the weekend and turned off the air conditioner in his room. It is a small room and his queen size bed sits below the window. Well, while the AC was off this weekend, it leaked…into his room. Not only did water run down the wall wetting  the carpet, but it soaked a quarter of the mattress through to part of the box spring. Now what? Is there any way to dry it out? Do we write it off and try to come up with the money for a new bed? It’s the last thing we can afford right now. I felt so bad for Son2. He had worked all day in the heat, humidity and sun. He had come home long enough to shower, throw food into his face and run to his second job, where Monday is one of the busiest nights of the week. All he wanted to do was crash into his bed. Instead, at one in the morning, I was helping him soak up some of the water and later crying about his shitty luck.

My daughter wants to go to Colorado with her Man and his family in January. They enjoy snowboarding and that is exactly what they will be doing. His parents will be paying for everything but the air fare. When you look at the price of tickets to lots of places, or even the cost of a ski pass to our local Pocono Mountain resorts, the air fare will be  cheaper. We can’t really afford that either.  I added tears for her to the tears for my son.

I looked into the mirror this weekend and saw my hair. I stop dying my hair every summer because of vacations. If I dye it, the dye fades quickly in the sun or washes out in the chlorine of the pools. It also gives my crappy hair a break from the chemicals. This year, the white hair is more prominent than usual. Hubs likes it. Now I face the prospect of letting the gray grow in. I am cutting back on things and hair dye is not a ‘necessary’ expense. I feel old when I look at myself. Hubs thinks it’s pretty. Oh the indecision….

Our business is slow. But at least we have something. Babygirl may be headed to college, but she can get a job to help out with school expenses or to get herself a plane ticket. She has earned the money to buy her own back-to-school clothes and many of her supplies. Son2 has plenty of his own expenses, and that is the reason for two jobs. But at least he has money to go to the Union soccer games once, sometimes twice, a week (we paid for half of his season tickets for last Christmas-when we had a streak of good income) He can buy a new bed for himself, if he has to. Dying my hair?  Well, shit. I won’t be the end of the world if I look my age. Yanno?

My friend’s husband is losing his job-along with 700 other families- when their plant closes.

My friend has little kids, kids who can’t get jobs to help pay for their school supplies. Her kids are too young to fully understand the way their parents will have to cut corners. Her husband will be dealing with the stress and depression that comes with looking for a job and providing for his family. She will deal with standing by her man, saving every penny she can and the heartbreaking task of telling her children “no” far too often than “yes”

I feel so guilty moaning about a plane ticket, a bed, and worst of all HAIR DYE!  These things pale in the face of the troubles in front of others.

I light a candle and pray everyday for my friends. I pray for our own financial stability and health. I pray that some of you get back good test results. I hope that you don’t lose your insurance, your car, your home. I pray that you get that job you interviewed for. I pray that this love is the one that lasts.

And I’ve added another friend to my litany of prayers. My dear friend, I hope that something good comes your way soon.

Like many of you, I went to a party this weekend. Like many of those parties, this party involved a pool, a barbecue, drinks, food and friends. This party was different in only one way…

I knew when the invitation was given, that it would be attended by many women……many gay women. That’s not a big deal to me. I don’t tend to think of people like that. It’s none of my business and besides, people are people, y’know? I mention it only because of where this post is going.

I’ve been to other parties where I only know one or two people. There is usually that initial awkwardness, you know, the one in which you get a feel for the humor (or lack of). The one in which you get to know the boundaries, so that you don’t cross it….

I didn’t need to do that this time.

As soon as I got there, I felt as if I were a long lost friend. My friend Skittles and I were the only two straight women there. We tend to get carried away with our laughter and joking and I was a tad afraid of making an inappropriate joke. I was secretly counting on Skittles to keep me in check. But immediately upon our arrival, the laughs began and they never stopped.

The sun beat down on us and the pool was too inviting. A few girls went in and I joined them. If it were another party, I would have hemmed and hawed. I would have been self-conscious about my ‘bathing suit body’. Not here. If it were another party, I would have been on the look-out for the ‘judges’…..those women who, whether on purpose or not, judge the amount of skin that shows, making judgements that “she’s a whore” or “she’s a prude”. Those women who watch every person you talk to and make judgements that perhaps “she’s flirting with my man” when in reality you are discussing sports. Those women who mentally tally up how long you have known the hostess to assure themselves that they are “better friends” with her.

Like I said…if it were another party.

All of these things were a non-issue. They didn’t worry about their bodies and by extension, neither did I. We discussed all kinds of things. I spoke to the significant others and didn’t feel like I had to time the conversation out of fear of what their mate would think. We put sunscreen on each other. You know how touching a man always seem to skew into a ’sexy touch’?  Not here. It was simply women making sure no one got sunburned.

I relaxed….truly relaxed. This was so incredibly different. Even with family, I am tense. I worry that I will say or do something to earn Mom’s disapproval, or I will hurt my sister’s feelings.  I feel the judgement – even after thirty years of marriage – of my sisters-in-law. Even with some friends, I feel like my house, hostess skills or cooking doesn’t measure up.

These women accepted me for who I am, and I felt the love.

And then I felt the heartache of knowing that they could be themselves…..but only among others of the same mindset. They discussed how hard it is to find a club that is ‘gay-friendly’. How hard it must be to have to plan a get-together based on where they will feel ‘welcomed’!   It made me sad to know that so many people will never know these wonderful, smart, funny women because they can’t set aside the issue of sexual orientation. It made me sad to know that they will go to other parties and be the ones who are judged.

Sooo…..long time, no blog…

What’s new? Well…..let’s see….The weather has been nice and I’ve taken advantage of it–throwing the windows open and enjoying the breeze that blows in. I love when my house smells like fresh air instead of ‘air conditioned’ and ‘febrezed’ air. I’ve enjoyed my morning coffee outside in the back yard with my dog. What else….?

That’s about it.

Tomorrow I am off for an overnight with the gals. We plan on swimming, cooking out, camping out, and hanging out. I need some girl time and Hubs needs some ’stupid movie and naps’ time. Both of us are looking forward to the time apart, as well as the ‘reunion’ on Sunday evening!

I hope all of you enjoy the long weekend. Eat, drink, and make merry with your friends and families. Have fun at your barbecues, parades and fireworks.

And remember that little thing called Freedom……and thank your lucky stars and stripes that we have it!!

He is never forgotten. You are not far from my thoughts today, my friend.

We had one helluva bash for the graduation. I can only do this by the numbers…..

0 pictures taken (What the hell???)

1 beer spilled in the house

3 balloons got away

3 pounds of roast beef left

4 chair helpers

5 pounds of meatballs left

6 wonderful food helpers

7 balloons shot into the trees and on the roof

7 beers, 0 waters, 18 half-cans of soda remaining

30 people did not show up OR RSVP

87 conversations that were interrupted and never allowed to finish

89 degrees in the shade

100,000,000,000 flies,mosquitos, beetles and lightning bugs let into the house

Body count:

1 hernia, 1 dog-bit lip, 1 sore ass,   2 times my sister-in-law fell,  2 blistered (ON THE BOTTOMS!!)  feet and 1 crushingly massive hangover.

Want the details? Ask me. Even my hair hurts too much for me to think coherently about writing a post…….

Son1 went to school with a guy named Rob. They went through 12 years together in school and during those years, they played all manner of sports together, were in Cub Scouts together, etc. As a matter of fact, when they first started high school, computers weren’t in every home. (Can you even imagine??) Since Rob’s mom was a teacher, they had one and it was thanks to her, that Son1 was able to do alot of his school work.

After high school, they went in different directions. Rob had seizures and one had caused a car accident which injured his back. Unfortunately, Rob became addicted to pain meds. He spent some time in jail, was thrown out of his mother’s house and went on to live with friends. It is really a small world sometimes. Rob lived with the first girls I ever babysat. They all enjoyed their smoke and pretty much laid low.

Eventually, Rob moved on and continued drinking and partying. It was more than Son1 wanted to associate with, and so their friendship faded.

Rob was one of those kids who always said hi to the parents of his friends. It wasn’t unusual for me to sit outside of my house and have him stop by to say hello and shoot the breeze for a bit. I would straight up tell him that it was time to stop the party path. I would tell him that he had potential. I would point out the talents that he had. And he would give me a sad smile and say ” Someday”

We reconnected on Facebook. I thought it was a little strange that he wanted to be my ‘friend’ there, but I am friends with a few kids-or those I consider to be kids. You know, the kids who lived down the street, your friends’ kids, whatever. We’re all adults. We shared jokes, comments and birthday wishes.

He had cleaned up his act. He had an apartment. His seizures were diagnosed as being a reason to consider him ‘disabled’. He may not be working as steadily as he would like, but he was in a good place. He even had a steady girlfriend. She was almost my age, with an ex-husband and teenaged kids.  But he was happy.

She was not. She was an addict.

Rob would turn her away when she was too fucked up but he would eventually look for her and make sure that she was okay. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find her a few weeks ago. The next day, he learned that she had killed herself. Then he learned that she had been in contact with her ex. The only comfort he found was to look at her Facebook page and the pictures that he had on his page. 

I got a message today. Rob sent me his phone number and he wants me to call him this weekend.  “I could use a friend about now. I miss her so much and my hurt is deep. I feel like a shadow of my old self. I’m afraid of the old habits that are calling me.”

I don’t know what I’m going to say. I suppose I will just listen to whatever he needs to get off his chest.

I do know that I won’t be waiting for the weekend. I’m calling him tonight.

Now I am moving on to the High School dances. Not exactly the mixers and not quite the proms. I am talking about two that were very special for special reasons.

One year, shortly after my uncle died, my aunt Margie wanted to have Thanksgiving dinner at her house. It was her way of getting through the holidays that first year. She managed to squeeze roughly two dozen people into her apartment, which was above the bar that Uncle Al owned. So there we were, four teenaged cousins who were bored to tears. That night, at my cousin’s school, was the “Turkey Trot”. None of us were very excited about going, but we were dropped off in front of the high school. Things shaped up once the music started. My cousin Kathleen and I were free to be brand new people. We were from the suburbs in a city dance. We were suddenly popular, carefree and outgoing. We could do whatever we wanted because we would never see these people again.

That night we were silly, giggly girls. We danced all night. My cousins Al and Margaret were popular by association, having brought the ‘new girls’. It was one of the most fun times we shared as kids.

The second was my “Ring Dance”. In our school, it was a symbol of hard work and achievement. We didn’t get our rings until Senior Year. I had planned on going with a guy named Howard. He played sports, and because of that, it wasn’t unusual for us to go for days without seeing or speaking. I called him the day before the dance to iron out the last details-when he’d pick me up, pictures, dinner before or after, etc. When he answered, he was with his girlfriend. He had forgotten our plans.

I was devastated. What would I do now? How could I tell my parents? How could I face my friends? I did the only thing I could think of….. I called my friend Frank.

Frank had graduated a year ahead of me. We missed seeing him on campus all the time and he would show up whenever he didn’t have to work. His prized possession was a red camaro. He was always washing and waxing it. When he answered his phone, I burst into tears. He let me cry without saying a word. Finally, all I could do was ask three questions.

“Are you busy tomorrow night?” “No”

“Is your car clean?” “Yes”

“Can you wear a suit and pick me up tomorrow at 7?” “Yeah, where we going?”

I began to cry again and he quickly said “I don’t need to know. I’ll be there.”

I hung up the phone feeling more relieved than anything. I still couldn’t bring myself to tell my girlfriends. I only told my mom that things had changed but I never told her what.

Frank showed up at my door on time. He had a corsage, because he didn’t know whether or not it was a ‘flower’ occasion or not (and better safe than sorry). We got into his car and he said “Where to?”

When I finally told him everything, he laughed. He couldn’t wait to see everyone’s face when we showed up. He hadn’t said a word to anyone. Not even our friend “Lostmahead”–who knew everything–knew about this.

We had a great night. Frank and I had a bond that was hard to shake. We shared other heartache during our young friendship. But we also shared other things as well.

You see, Frank and I are still friends and his daughters call me “Mom Chris”.  That dance was more important to me than my own Senior Prom…and I went to that with Hubby!

Sybil Law asked me about a recollection of one of my first dances. I was pummelled by more than one, and each was significant in some way or another. I have decided that she is going to get a ‘two-fer’  as a belated birthday gift.

Dances for me, began in the 8th grade. The first was actually a high school dance. A couple of my friends and I managed to get permission to go to the high school mixer at the boy’s high school.  I remember wearing a rust colored corduroy skirt with a matching  jacket.  I had bought a pair of platform shoes and this was my first chance to wear them.

Oh the awkwardness! I was tall, thin and had big boobs. The fact that I was so thin, made the boobs seem that much bigger. I was tall and then I added another four inches with the shoes.  My group of friends and I were in our spot and we occasionally danced. We felt out of our element. I remember how jealous I felt when Gigi was the first asked to dance by one of the boys. I honestly don’t remember anything else that I can put into words. It is a jumble of sensations…..the smell of a high school cafeteria, where we managed to sneak a smoke….the chill of the fall air…. trying not to sweat while I slow danced….and of course the last dance of the night to “Knights in White Satin”

The last of the 8th grade year was our graduation dance. Some girls were coupled up with some boys, but most of us were nervously anticipating our first contacts. There are only two things that I can think of. The first is that I really wasn’t looking forward to going.  I cannot remember what happened that had made me not want to go, but my mother would not let me miss what was supposed to be a milestone.  The other thing that I remembered was that one of my classmates, Bill, was wheeled into the dance. I say wheeled, because Bill had crashed his bike three weeks before and he was in a body cast. I remember the cheers that went up as he came in. Most of us had not seen him since the accident.

I can remember dancing with Gary, watching Kathy dance with Bill B, and I remember walking home with a gaggle of girls in the dark. So much for a ‘milestone’…..seriously, that is it.

What you must remember is that this was 1976. My memory isn’t what it used to be.

No age comments……..

My grade school is closing. It is a Catholic grade school which once had thousands of kids in attendance. My graduating class had four homerooms with 30-35  kids in each classroom  room. This year there are roughly 40 in the entire graduating class.

Many people have moved out of the town. It used to have tons of families and each family had lots of kids. The majority of the kids went to St. Joseph’s.  For the high schools that the girls and boys went to, St. Joseph’s was the largest ‘feeder school’. As the inner cities grew and worked their way into the suburbs, many of the ‘old families’  moved on to the even more distant suburbs. The racial and economic dynamic changed. More and more families couldn’t afford the school tuition. More and more kids were going to the public schools. My own kids were among them.

We received word not too long ago that the school was closing. There was not enough income. There were not enough kids registered for next year. Too many repairs need to be made and not enough money to do it. I saw it coming. How could others be so surprised? My only surprise was that it hadn’t happened sooner.

I loved grade school. You all know that because you have read about the connections that have rekindled with so many of my classmates. We all have happy, sad, and hysterical memories of the days, weeks, and years we spent going through the doors. To me, that is “school”. It is the lessons learned. It is the love shared. It is the friendships forged. It just happened to occur in a building…a building named “St. Joseph’s School”. We took our “school” with us as we moved along into High school, college, adulthood.

Now the alumni is crying. They say “how could it happen?” We moved away! We stopped providing the income! That’s what happened!  And for the ones who stayed and sent their own children, did they not notice that instead of four homerooms per class, there was now only one or two? Why suddenly are there fund raisers, enrollment drives, etc?  The diocese requires 200 children in attendance to stay open. Only 142 have registered for next year. Where should we find 58 families who can afford a Catholic education? It isn’t going to happen.

Every year in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, there are some schools which are going to close. It was only a matter of time until it was our turn. If not this year, maybe next year, but it was still coming. No matter where our kids go to school, they will have pretty much the same experiences that I did. There will be cliques, friendships, dances, psycho teachers, and dorks…..just in a different building.

Everyone can have their candlelight vigils. They can say their rosaries in large prayer circles. They can wave protest signs outside of the church on Sunday. They can have their goodbye mass. It will not change anything.

A house is not a home, it is the people that live in it. That building is not the school. It is the spirit and love that it brought together.

I said goodbye to that school building in 1976.  But I am still ‘in school’ when I am with my grade school friends.