August 23, 1992 (12:55 a.m.)
I'm tired, but I can't sleep. I'm sitting in my black and ivory room listening to the Tori Amos CD I bought today. Peggy and I went CD shopping earlier. I also got the John Lennon Collection. Two lovely works of art and a well spent $32.
The Fall semester starts in nine days. I can't believe how fast the summer's flown by. It seems like yesterday it was my birthday and it's already 3 1/2 months ago. On my birthday night Eric, Darius, Sean, Nick and I sat around the big table in Denny's, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and laughing. And laughing. I miss it. It's changing. Why do you appreciate things more once they're gone?
Diane's baby shower was lovely. I emailed Sean afterward explaining how odd it felt for the for girls (me, Di, Jen and Peggy) to all be together again in Di's parents house and that even though I am so happy that we’re all friends again, it’s bittersweet because we all wasted so many years. He told me not to feel regret about it. And he’s right. There’s still a lot of future and the people who played such a major role in shaping who I am as a person have all found their way back into my life.
On September 4, 2010 I found myself, once again, in Ocean City. The summer was coming to a close and it was time to say goodbye and embrace a new season.
I thought about this blog as I stood on the boards looking out at the water, as I have been toying with the topic for a while. I wanted to walk out to the water, as I did that July 4th weekend years ago, and recreate the serenity of taking off my shoes and feeling the salt water crashing against my skin.
Instead, I watched the sun set and left, recalling a story I heard last month of a man who lost a wallet 19 years ago in Corsons Inlet in Ocean City. Another man and his daughter fished the wallet from the water this past summer. Despite the ebbs and tides of the last 19 years, the wallet was still in the same location as it was when lost. It did not drift to sea; it did not disintegrate. It was always there.
It was always there.
They will always be there.
Showing posts with label Retro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Retro. Show all posts
12 September 2010
08 September 2010
And I Haven't Touched the Water Since...Part One
1992
It’s about 3 a.m. At this very moment I’m in a diner that’s done up in a 1950’s style in Wildwood. Jennifer, Brian, Diane and I came down to see Nick [Salvo]. We met lots of cool people including some boy named Martin from Northfield who gave me his address and his friend, who I called Natalie all night, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure that was her name.
On Saturday, August 7, 2010, I stood alone on the Ocean City boardwalk. Huddled like a criminal with the other smokers, enjoying our two square feet of allotted space, I looked out at the ocean water.
I love the shore, but I’ve never been big on ocean water. It’s the seaweed and the jelly fish and all the other yucky things that grab at you. Blech! However, I wanted to walk along the water. I wanted to close my eyes, feel the breeze blow on my skin and the salt water lap at my ankles.
The next day was Diane’s baby shower and I looked forward to it so much. I couldn’t wait to celebrate this new infant boy with Diane. However, when Diane, Peggy, Jennifer and I get together I sometimes feel this dull pain deep in my heart. It’s a pain due to the fact that I regret the years we wasted when the four of us, and more, drifted apart.
1992 (continued)
Diane and I are sitting on the beach now. I just took a long walk along the edge of the water; it was so relaxing and peaceful. It was as if the water washed everything away for me and drowned every worry and fear. I never imagined something so simple could be so powerful as well. I really don’t know where my place is. I’m searching so hard for answers to questions I don’t even know how to ask.
I remember that walk like it was yesterday. Diane, Jennifer Travis, her boyfriend at the time, Brian, and I went to Ocean City/Wildwood. Not long before, I traded my friend, Abeni, my Doc Marten boots for her combat boots. I remember walking with blisters because although her shoes were the right size, they weren’t mine and didn’t quite fit. The ocean water soothed my sore feet that morning. The calmness enveloped me both physically and emotionally.
Things got rocky that summer. I was 20 years old and my whole life lay in front of me. The unknown of it all frightened me. I was never a girl who flew by the seat of my pants; I was a planner. And I had no plan of action for what was going on.
Diane and I didn't care for Jennifer’s boyfriend and that meant seeing less and less of her until she became a mere acquaintance. If memory serves, Peggy was with Mike Miles and doing her own thing more and more. Sean and I were…were…were near explosive most of the time. And without Sean, there was very little Nicholas around. Stacey was a memory. It was the beginning of the end.
It’s about 3 a.m. At this very moment I’m in a diner that’s done up in a 1950’s style in Wildwood. Jennifer, Brian, Diane and I came down to see Nick [Salvo]. We met lots of cool people including some boy named Martin from Northfield who gave me his address and his friend, who I called Natalie all night, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure that was her name.
On Saturday, August 7, 2010, I stood alone on the Ocean City boardwalk. Huddled like a criminal with the other smokers, enjoying our two square feet of allotted space, I looked out at the ocean water.
I love the shore, but I’ve never been big on ocean water. It’s the seaweed and the jelly fish and all the other yucky things that grab at you. Blech! However, I wanted to walk along the water. I wanted to close my eyes, feel the breeze blow on my skin and the salt water lap at my ankles.
The next day was Diane’s baby shower and I looked forward to it so much. I couldn’t wait to celebrate this new infant boy with Diane. However, when Diane, Peggy, Jennifer and I get together I sometimes feel this dull pain deep in my heart. It’s a pain due to the fact that I regret the years we wasted when the four of us, and more, drifted apart.
1992 (continued)
Diane and I are sitting on the beach now. I just took a long walk along the edge of the water; it was so relaxing and peaceful. It was as if the water washed everything away for me and drowned every worry and fear. I never imagined something so simple could be so powerful as well. I really don’t know where my place is. I’m searching so hard for answers to questions I don’t even know how to ask.
I remember that walk like it was yesterday. Diane, Jennifer Travis, her boyfriend at the time, Brian, and I went to Ocean City/Wildwood. Not long before, I traded my friend, Abeni, my Doc Marten boots for her combat boots. I remember walking with blisters because although her shoes were the right size, they weren’t mine and didn’t quite fit. The ocean water soothed my sore feet that morning. The calmness enveloped me both physically and emotionally.
Things got rocky that summer. I was 20 years old and my whole life lay in front of me. The unknown of it all frightened me. I was never a girl who flew by the seat of my pants; I was a planner. And I had no plan of action for what was going on.
Diane and I didn't care for Jennifer’s boyfriend and that meant seeing less and less of her until she became a mere acquaintance. If memory serves, Peggy was with Mike Miles and doing her own thing more and more. Sean and I were…were…were near explosive most of the time. And without Sean, there was very little Nicholas around. Stacey was a memory. It was the beginning of the end.
To be continued...
12 April 2010
You got your hair slicked back and those Wayfarers on, baby
What comes around, goes around. At least as far as fashion is concerned.
Case in point, my sunglasses.
In 1984 I saved $45, trekked to The King of Prussia Mall and purchased a lovely pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarers.You don't understand how I needed these sunglasses. John Taylor from Duran Duran wore them for goodness sake! And even at the precious age of 12 I didn't do knock-off merchandise. I appreciated the real thing and saved and waited to get it. How I loved those glasses.
However, sometime in my first year post-college I decided to invest in the Jackie O look. (See, another look that came around again!)I placed the trusty Wayfarers in a drawer and have paraded behind my First Lady look ever since. But now, some 14 years later, those glasses have a scratch on the lens.
Dread!
This weekend I found myself in a mall and I browsed at the sunglasses trends. And what to my wandering eyes did appear?
The Ray-Ban Wayfarer! There are knock-offs of these classics everywhere. I am still in style and loving it.
Next step? Dust off those 26-year-old beauties, strut my cool self down the sunny street and quietly thank John Taylor for having hot shades way back when. If he didn't have such good taste, who knows what I may have ended up wearing!
Case in point, my sunglasses.
In 1984 I saved $45, trekked to The King of Prussia Mall and purchased a lovely pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarers.You don't understand how I needed these sunglasses. John Taylor from Duran Duran wore them for goodness sake! And even at the precious age of 12 I didn't do knock-off merchandise. I appreciated the real thing and saved and waited to get it. How I loved those glasses.
However, sometime in my first year post-college I decided to invest in the Jackie O look. (See, another look that came around again!)I placed the trusty Wayfarers in a drawer and have paraded behind my First Lady look ever since. But now, some 14 years later, those glasses have a scratch on the lens.
Dread!
This weekend I found myself in a mall and I browsed at the sunglasses trends. And what to my wandering eyes did appear?
The Ray-Ban Wayfarer! There are knock-offs of these classics everywhere. I am still in style and loving it.
Next step? Dust off those 26-year-old beauties, strut my cool self down the sunny street and quietly thank John Taylor for having hot shades way back when. If he didn't have such good taste, who knows what I may have ended up wearing!
26 July 2009
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times
Once upon the early 1990's I had a fantastic group of pals. Over time some of us drifted apart, yet through the magic of the computer age we have all found each other again.
And it doesn't surprise me in the least. We were all best friends at a pivotal time of life...that scary bridge between being teenagers and adults. We were brothers and sisters, best friends and sexual partners here and there depending on which way the wind happen to blow that night. It was the best of times.
And then there was some sadness. Fighting, dealing with true grief, and some people sliding down a slippery slope in their life decisions. It was the worst of times.
Yet we've all, for the most part, gotten back in touch.
Last night I saw one of my best pals from those wonderful days -- my amazing friend, Nicholas.
It was super-spontaneous. We happened to be on Facebook at the same time and he instant messaged me. He asked, "When will we finally get together?" and I replied, "Come over right now." And he did!
I got to spend three or so hours with Nicky and it felt like home. How I will always adore him. Because despite all the worst things about those days, Nicholas was always the best. He was an amazing friend who I will love until the day I die.
My buddy Nicholas is standing directly behind me in the photograph. The outer group is: Toni (not blogger Toni), Keemia, Darius, Nicholas, Tom, and Sean. The inside group is: Peggy, Jennifer and me.
27 September 2008
The women at the kitchen table
My Nanny is 100% Italian. She grew up in South Philadelphia, where her father, Francesco, settled almost right off the boat when he emigrated from Naples. When I was little my mom would take me and Nanny to South Philly often so Nan could visit with her sister, Gloria, and her mother, Nanny Massanova. (In my family, all the nanny's had a last named attached to avoid unnecessary nanny confusion.)
In those bygone days, South Philly was strictly Italian. If you are not familiar with the area, picture very narrow city streets filled with row homes. People have to jump the curb when they park on these streets in order for cars to be able to pass through. Every corner has a deli or a bakery. There are boys on these corners in jeans and wife beater t-shirts and they all smoke Marlboro Reds.
Nanny Massanova's house was three stories tall and about 20 feet wide. Seriously, it was the most narrow house ever. And it was filled with enough furniture to decorate the entire block. Think over crowded. The kitchen was so small that if we all sat around the table the room was unnavigable. I always had to sit in a folding chair in front of the fridge -- the lowliest spot on the totem pole. Whoever sat in front of the fridge had to get up and move their chair whenever something was needed from the "icebox" as it was referred to.
There was always a pot of gravy on the stove. Gravy with sausage and meatballs. Torpedo rolls from the corner store in a paper bag on the counter. A silver peculator on the stove that brewed the worst coffee imaginable. A plastic table cloth with granules of sugar spilled on it.
I can see it. I can smell it.
Those days are gone forever. Nanny Massanova died in 2001. Aunt Gloria died in 2003. And Nanny...my Nanny...Liz's Nanny...well, she will never be the same.
She called me this afternoon to chat for a few minutes. She said she needed to call Liz too. It scared me a little, as she doesn't regularly call.
After I hung up I went in the kitchen and began to cook. The smell of garlic permeated the room and I remembered Nanny Massanova's kitchen. Me, my mom, my Nanny, Nanny Massanova and Aunt Gloria all cramped in that tiny kitchen. I remembered it all. And I hurt. Deep inside, in the hollow place that begins to be carved out as you get older and loose people you love. We are not born with that place...only the passing of years can make it happen.
So I hurt. And I wanted to go back for an afternoon...an hour...a minute. I would even volunteer to sit in front of that stupid fridge again.
In those bygone days, South Philly was strictly Italian. If you are not familiar with the area, picture very narrow city streets filled with row homes. People have to jump the curb when they park on these streets in order for cars to be able to pass through. Every corner has a deli or a bakery. There are boys on these corners in jeans and wife beater t-shirts and they all smoke Marlboro Reds.
Nanny Massanova's house was three stories tall and about 20 feet wide. Seriously, it was the most narrow house ever. And it was filled with enough furniture to decorate the entire block. Think over crowded. The kitchen was so small that if we all sat around the table the room was unnavigable. I always had to sit in a folding chair in front of the fridge -- the lowliest spot on the totem pole. Whoever sat in front of the fridge had to get up and move their chair whenever something was needed from the "icebox" as it was referred to.
There was always a pot of gravy on the stove. Gravy with sausage and meatballs. Torpedo rolls from the corner store in a paper bag on the counter. A silver peculator on the stove that brewed the worst coffee imaginable. A plastic table cloth with granules of sugar spilled on it.
I can see it. I can smell it.
Those days are gone forever. Nanny Massanova died in 2001. Aunt Gloria died in 2003. And Nanny...my Nanny...Liz's Nanny...well, she will never be the same.
She called me this afternoon to chat for a few minutes. She said she needed to call Liz too. It scared me a little, as she doesn't regularly call.
After I hung up I went in the kitchen and began to cook. The smell of garlic permeated the room and I remembered Nanny Massanova's kitchen. Me, my mom, my Nanny, Nanny Massanova and Aunt Gloria all cramped in that tiny kitchen. I remembered it all. And I hurt. Deep inside, in the hollow place that begins to be carved out as you get older and loose people you love. We are not born with that place...only the passing of years can make it happen.
So I hurt. And I wanted to go back for an afternoon...an hour...a minute. I would even volunteer to sit in front of that stupid fridge again.
25 September 2008
It runs in the family -- Part Two
Dog love
(In this picture: My maternal grandfather, Cornelious (with hat) and his cousin, Chris. Taken around 1930.)
17 September 2008
It runs in the family - Part One
Fake Smiles
(In this photo: Liz, me and Fran. Taken at my 3rd birthday party in May 1975.)04 August 2008
Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club
The Breakfast Club was one of my favorite movies when I was a kid. I remember, clear as day, going to see it at the theater in the Echelon Mall when I was in 7th grade. In my life-long quest to be normal, I secretly wished I could be like Claire (Molly Ringwold) although I was much closer in character and looks to Allison (Ally Sheedy.)
If you are a fan of the movie too, you may enjoy this new JCPenney commercial as much as I did. I find great happiness in the fact that The Breakfast Club has spanned the generations. On the other hand, I find no comfort in the fact that I am old enough to be the mother of the kids in the commercial.
23 July 2008
In this land, every girl grows to be her own woman...
You can bet that in 1974 Marlo Thomas and Friends' Free To Be You and Me was playing on our hi-fi. Ahhhh, our hi-fi. It was a piece of furniture (as was our TV set!)
My mom and I would dance around the living room of the two-bedroom apartment we lived in until my parents bought a house in 1977.
Marlo Thomas always reminded me of my mom -- petite and beautiful (inside and out) with super-long and strait dark hair. Wow, Jo-Ann was just 22 during those silly times she danced and sang these songs with me. Even though she was so young, she was an incredible mom...always instilling the best values in her daughter. She made me believe that I was smart and could achieve anything I ever wanted through my own mind and hard work. These were new concepts to relate to a daughter in those years! I can only hope that I will be the same kind of mother if I am ever lucky enough to dance around with a daughter of my own. Except instead of vinyl spinning on a turntable, Jennifer Jr. and I will be listening to an iPod, I'm sure.
My favorite song from the show...
The show's opening credits and another great song...
My mom and I would dance around the living room of the two-bedroom apartment we lived in until my parents bought a house in 1977.
Marlo Thomas always reminded me of my mom -- petite and beautiful (inside and out) with super-long and strait dark hair. Wow, Jo-Ann was just 22 during those silly times she danced and sang these songs with me. Even though she was so young, she was an incredible mom...always instilling the best values in her daughter. She made me believe that I was smart and could achieve anything I ever wanted through my own mind and hard work. These were new concepts to relate to a daughter in those years! I can only hope that I will be the same kind of mother if I am ever lucky enough to dance around with a daughter of my own. Except instead of vinyl spinning on a turntable, Jennifer Jr. and I will be listening to an iPod, I'm sure.
My favorite song from the show...
The show's opening credits and another great song...
13 July 2008
Sunny days sweeping the clouds away...
I am a very strong believer in education. In my opinion, there are very few gifts as important as providing children with not only an education through books and formal schooling, but also a cultural education. I have always felt it is vital for kids to understand that there is a much bigger world out there than simply the small corner of it in which they live.
This is one of the reasons why I am such a big fan of Sesame Street. I grew up watching it and as an adult, I think it is still one of the best learning tools for our little ones. It doesn't talk down to them and somehow continues to make the learning process fun. Plus, it brings an appreciation of culture and the world in general to the table.
I was watching a documentary on PBS the other day and this promotion ran. It made my jaw drop and I thought I would share. I especially love the suffragette march...amazing!
This is one of the reasons why I am such a big fan of Sesame Street. I grew up watching it and as an adult, I think it is still one of the best learning tools for our little ones. It doesn't talk down to them and somehow continues to make the learning process fun. Plus, it brings an appreciation of culture and the world in general to the table.
I was watching a documentary on PBS the other day and this promotion ran. It made my jaw drop and I thought I would share. I especially love the suffragette march...amazing!
26 June 2008
The lovers, the dreamers and me
In the midst of a lengthy phone conversation last night, the subject of The Rainbow Connection by the great Kermit the Frog came up. I did my best to serenade Andrew with my musical talents, but alas, I could remember all of the words.
This is possibly the greatest song ever written. Yes, a stuffed frog is the crooner, but have a listen and try to argue. Chances are you cannot.
Enjoy!
This is possibly the greatest song ever written. Yes, a stuffed frog is the crooner, but have a listen and try to argue. Chances are you cannot.
Enjoy!
03 September 2007
There are just some things you can't do with an iPod
I've reached a point in my life where I can remember certain times in my past and romanticize the moments. And I don't mean "romantic"; I mean so much time has passed that the bad times that accompanied those bygone days don't seem to matter much anymore.
For example, the last two years of high school were emotionally brutal. Someone I loved - my dearest friend - pretty much turned his back on me in an effort to seek out a more mundane existence which I assume he felt would be better than being my friend (I cannot be certain of this, however, because he's never explained his motives.) I can not begin to convey the emotional damage this boy caused me. Those years were awful when I was living them. However, now, almost two decades later, that period of time seems longingly simplistic and I sort of covet it.
The day I graduated from hign school - June 3, 1990 - I stayed up all night at my parents house with my best friend, Diane. We watched a bunch of movies, including Say Anything. I loved "Lloyd Dobbler". He seduced me with his boombox. See, that movie would never work now. Lloyd wouldn't own a boombox in 2007; he'd have an iPod. I'm sorry, but no boy would have gotten into my 18-year-old pants by holding an iPod over his head outside my bedroom.
There is something to be said about the old days...even if it's just a really good song on a boombox.
28 May 2007
Sometimes I get sad about really dumb things...
Does anyone remember this little guy? He was one of my favorite skits on Sesame Street when I was little. He would type a word out on himself and would scoot around on his little black wheels saying, "Nooney, nooney, nooney, noo."
He was awesome.
I feel certain he is no longer on Sesame Street, as he is a typewriter...he is a relic now; obsolete.
I wonder if he has been replaced by a laptop or a Blackberry?
It kind of makes me sad that he has retired to the Land of Obsolete Cartoon Technology. I imagine he is laying by the pool with his friends, 35 mm film and 8-track tape, enjoying his retirement.
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