Forgive and Forget

Forgive and forget...there is strength in those words.

I perform the act of forgiveness. I usually take a few moments to ponder about the incident. I may vent to someone, or drive down the street with not-so-soft, soothing music soothing my thoughts. Then, all is well. I am rational. I am calm. I make a statement of apology underlined with extreme sincerity. I am also lucky to be forgiven for my antics as well.

When I was growing up, our neighborhood was filled with children. Since our street was very small, it was almost like a little community of kids. Of course, personalities clashed, tattle-tales squealed irrelevant information to the first adult they encountered, a sand fight or two may have errupted. However, when the next day arrived, we usually forgot about those interuptions. If we didn't, who would we play with when the other kids weren't around?

One particular family created a mini-war with my family. We lived very close to each other. Life was not pleasant when members of both households were outside. Much havoc was created from cruel words and lies. No wonder my mom always says that TALK IS CHEAP. It was not very pleasant to be harrased, on the way home from school and on the day-camp bus, from the one member of the household. She was a few years older than me. I tried to protect my younger siblings from hurtful words spat at us from the same person. We endured it - what else could we do?

When I began high school, my self esteem flowed. I was not going to let her bother me. In fact, I would laugh or smirk if we passed each other in the hall. She was the loser - not me!

Many, many years passed since I encountered the mom of the household. She was quite friendly to me. I was reserved when I responded to her inquiries regarding myself and my family.

Two days ago, I was at an event pertaining to high school. There she was.... I looked the other way. She walked towards me with a shy smile and said hello. I was pleasant, shook her hand and said hello. We spoke for a moment or two, shared a few kinds words and parted.

I was with Alisa at this affair. I told her about the encounter. She said, "You are older now, let it go". She was right. I thought to myself - I am a forgiving person. I am the one who always quotes that "Life is too short.. don't hold grudges, keep in contact with people, etc. "

Alisa and I went into the ladies room. Once again, the former enemy was standing in front of me. We started a conversation. We spoke of happiness and sadness. Shared smiles and tear glistened eyes. I hugged them both. The white flag was raised..I did forgive. Although I try to forget, it is difficult to do since I have a great memory (which I am thankful for) The important part is that if we ever meet again, I will not turn away and run. I will smile and say hello.

Thou shall not steal

In my last blog, I wrote about kind people. This is about people who are heartless, thoughtless and basically dirt.

My sister's car was stolen, from her driveway, almost one month ago. The vehicle is five years old and she was not planning on purchasing a different car this month- until someone, without asking, just decided they wanted her car.

Did this person(s) have any remorse? Any thoughts that the owner of the vehicle needed the car for transportation to work, to help others in need, to drive to any destination she desired because it was HER CAR??? Probably not.

Besides the fact that the car was stolen, the contents inside were the most treasured. My sister just received a bag of photos, from my mom, of herself growing up. Baby, toddler, elementary, middle school photos. She left them in the car. Gone...

My sister's birthday was a few weeks ago. I went through so many photos and photo albums and found about 20 photos of her as a baby, toddler, etc. I printed them and gave them to her!!
She was so happy!

Today they found her car minus the stereo system and battery. The stereo system came with the car - it wasn't some high end music blaster. Just an average cd player and radio. No photos were found but at least she still has her car....

Firefighter

Saturday, November 15, 2008
Detroit firefighters mourn veteran killed battling blaze at vacant house
Charlie LeDuff / The Detroit News

Visit the Detroit News website or just type in Detroit Firefighter killed.

I did not have the honor of meeting this brave, wonderful man but I was so touched by listening
and reading about him through the words of his family, friends and collegues - I just had to share this.

I spoke to a few people who felt the same way I did. Even shed a tear or two.

This firefighter was about to become a sargent. He was so young. Yet he was doing
his job. Did not matter that the fire was deliberate. He was doing his job...

Rest in peace firefighter...rest in peace

Dedicated

I was a teenybopper before I was a teen. In that case, I guess I was not a "teeny"bopper - I was a pre-teenybooper or a tweenybopper....Whatever the correct term is, I was the epitome of it!!!

I was 8 years old when the Partridge Family debuted on television. Every Friday evening, I was in front of the tv, anxiously waiting for David Cassidy aka Keith Partridge to appear on the screen. I had the albums, the cassettes. I was very in tune with fashion since I had a "shag" hairstyle which mirrored David's. Of course I belonged to the Partridge Family fan club.

After a few years, the Partridge Family was off of the air and David Cassidy, at the ripe age of 22 or 23, vanished from the industry. That was ok because his younger half brother eased his way into "tv land" when I was 13. His songs were forever played on CKLW and I was his biggest fan. In fact, my friend and I waited, in the icy mist of the pre-dawn winter morning, two hours in front of Cobo Hall to purchase tickets for his concert. Imagine that. Two teenage girls, waiting with a handful of other fans, in front of Cobo Hall. To quote a famous line: "Things were different back then". Did I mention that our dedication did not reward us with good seats. However, in the summer, the same friend and I participated in the Walk for Mankind in Livonia. We treked twenty miles in eight or nine hours, just to see Shaun Cassidy in the back of a pick up truck. We

raised money which also made it worth the effort.

Summer of '77 I heard one of the most beautiful songs on the radio. When I discovered that the person who recorded the song was going to be a guest on one of my favorite shows, American Bandstand, I made sure that I was in front of that television set. When I laid my eyes on the honey kissed strawberry blonde sil tresses, the ivory laden smile, the hairy chest - this was my man. I am sure I was not the only young woman thinking that thought.

Since my mom obliged to my every wish regarding concerts, autograph parties, and the such, she happily drove me to retrieve his autograph at Music Stop. (I am sure she was having fun too - in fact, she is still "with it" when it comes to what is "in" in the music and movie industry ) This singer/songwriter/baby brother of a very famous musical trio was full of smiles. He seemed so polite. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, it was my turn to receive his autograph. My thirteen and a half year old love-struck heart was pounding, my hands were a sweaty. I recited to myself, "act normal, act normal" as I anxiously, patiently, waited in line. Alas! It was finally my turn! I handed the Flowing Rivers album to him so he could sign it. Suddenly, I did it.  I did not think twice.. I leaned over and kissed Andy Gibb on his sweet lips. My first kiss!! I sauntered through the store with my mouth open in awe and disbelief. I was in a trance for about 3 minutes. A moment of sheer bliss....

I participated, once again, in the Walk for Mankind, in Livonia, MI.. I walked twenty miles to get a glimpse of Andy. A few months later, I went to see his concert at the Michigan State Fair. Collette, another friend and I waited eight hours in a very small, fenced-in area with about 150 other teenage girls. The seating was general admission. Since the temperature outside was about 80 degrees, we were very warm, sweaty, thirsty and fourteen years old. We were invincible. When those gates opened at 4:00 pm, it was a stampede to the stage. Lo and behold, we made it!! We found a location to stand and it was  very, very close to the stage. I pretended I was Annie Leibowitz as I put my camera into action. Those photos are  tucked away in a very safe spot.

Needless to say, the Bee Gees were on my list as well. Forget a hot bath or a glass of wine, I enjoy  listening to Barry's falsetto voice, the harmony the brother create ...my troubles always seem to be lifted.

I had stock in the teen magazines too. I would use my hard earned cash that I earned from babysitting and purchase Tiger Beat and "16" magazine. I did not have to paint my bedroom since the walls were adorned with posters of these talented "foxes". My friends seemed to enjoy my gallery too!

However, my life as a teenybopper was not easy. I was constantly harassed and teased in Middle School because of my admiration for the singers. I did not back down. Never will. I have Andy's album on my ipod. I listen to the Bee Gees very often. I even listen to the music of David Cassidy. In my opinion, he really has a nice voice.

I remain a dedicated fan....

So Many Choices....

Today, I went to the store to purchase a bottle of hair conditioner. I decided I wanted to try a new brand - change is good so I am told....New brand, no problem, The dilemma was WHAT to buy? This is what I saw on the shelf: conditioner for - long hair, frizzy hair, short hair, color treated hair, dry hair, conditioner to add shine, conditioner to help lengthen hair... all I wanted was conditioner that conditioned NORMAL HAIR. After ten minutes, I found it.

What happened to good shampoo's and conditioners that I adored from the mid-70's to late 80's... AGREE (my favorite - it smelled soooo good), GEE, YOUR HAIR SMELLS TERIFIC, LEMON-UP, REVLON FLEX, there was even a shampoo that had something to do with beer named BODY ON TAP.

So, why al of the choices? Marketing? I wonder what would occur if I used conditioner for short hair on my medium length hair?

It seems like there are so many products that come in a thousand fragrances that have a million different uses. Then there is concentrated,ultra concentrated, fortified with vitamins, high in anti-oxidants, whitening, enriched, unbleached, lactose free, sugar free, organic, light, no msg (why even bother with msg???), ...whew!! I am getting exhausted just thinking about it.

I do not mind shopping for groceries and household supplies but I just find that it can be time consuming. There are moments when time is of the essence but C'est la vie.....

Lucy

Clumsy is my middle name. In my opinion, this curse began when my mom missed a step and fell off of a curb when she was pregnant with yours truly.

I call myself Lucy (aka Ricardo) because she was always getting into trouble due to her clumsiness such as when she locked herself in the freezer, baked a bread that expanded out of the oven, etc.

Here is a short list of my clumsy and sometimes careless endevors:

- I went on a double date, to a dance, in the middle of winter. I decided I did not need to wear boots to walk on the icy path from Alisa's porch to the warm car. A fancy dress and a pair of winter boots are a fashion DON'T. After all, I was 16 years old and I knew everything! I gracefully walked down the path with my date and splat. The ice can be an enemy at any time and this was my time. There I was, flat on my butt, my azure blue dress hiked above my thighs. My date was a gentleman and wanted to assist me. I refused and insisted that I wanted Alisa's help. That is what friends are for! Talk about em barr assed!

- Once again, this involved ice and Alisa. I was going into my car, opened the door and just as I was about to get in, my foot caught a patch of ice. Alisa did not know where I was. The lower part of my body, mostly my legs, were under the car. Go figure!

- Ahhh, another classic. My dad took me and my friend Collette to Northland Mall. It was time for new clothes because school was starting. The dressing room had swinging doors. I was trying on a pair of jeans. As I attempted to insert my leg into the pant leg, my foot got caught somewhere, I lost my balance and flopped through the swinging doors, landing on the floor. Needless to say, the pants were not on . It is not everyday that someone falls out of a dressing room, half undressed. It was crowded that day too! I created laughter without even trying!

- While visiting my grandmother in the hospital, I decided to utilize the staircase. I was unaware that certain staircases are locked. Of course, I choose the "locked" staircase. I walked to the main floor, attempted to open the door and no luck. Locked! I walked back to the floor I started from and tried to open the door - LOCKED! I tried to knock on the door but nobody came to my rescue. This was many years ago before cell phones. Once again, I walked downstairs, took a chance and opened the emergency exit door. I really did not have a choice. This was the door to freedom. The alarm began to go off but I did not care. I made it outside and now ......I was trapped!!! I ended up in a construction zone. Large piles of sand surrounded me. I was wearing four inch heels and my shoes started to sink in the tiny warm grains of sand piles. The entire area was fenced in with soft, orange fencing. I was facing the parking lot so I waved my hands to get someone's, anyone's attention. A lady motioned for me to come to the edge of the lot. There was a way to leave but I had to jump over this large crevice. Thank goodness I have long legs. I was able to stretch over the cement fracture safely. That was a story for Reader's Digest!!! "Trapped in a Fenced Sand Lot"....

- Careless Cook: While baking a peach pie, I decided to talk on the phone. I added the ingredients and let the pie bake. It smelled like summer and cinnamon....When I cut into the pie,

everyone was eyeing it, claiming the first piece. When I finally took the first piece out, the fruit and juice ooozed all over. It was a big vat of dough, peaches a lots of juice. I discovered that I was so involved in my phone conversation, I forgot to add sugar, which is a thickener. Everyone started laughing which made me have tears in my eyes. Lesson learned!

Bridges

Massive, intricate ironwork. Bands of steel supporting a road over a body of water. Oak planks pieced together, housed beneath a wooden roof that protects the planks from water and snow. Bridges enable us to cross the river, lake or ocean delivering us to our destination. Large or small, bridges unite.

Over the summer, I wanted to take a different vacation. I bought a book titled Michigan, Off the Beaten Path. After I browsed through it, I made a decision. I wanted to visit the oldest bridge in Michigan.

Whenever we went to Canada, we always drove through the tunnel. When I was 18, I drove across the bridge from Windsor to Detroit, by myself!! There is a first time for everything and that was one of them. Maybe it was a rite of passage for me - I don't know... perhaps a feeling of accomplishment...? Now my quest was to visit the bridges north of Grand Rapids.

This little get-away was quite different from the normal Michigan trips we take. First, we visited the Binder Park Zoo in Battle Creek. We walked through the African Safari park. The trees created a cooling effect as we walked endlessly through the woods, visiting exotic species along the way.

By mid afternoon, we headed for the bridge. Of course, I wanted to stop at a local farm market/bakery/store. I truly enjoy these detours. I am not shy and I strike up a conversation with the local residents that work in these establishments. Of course, this occurred once again.
After a twenty minute discussion about the town, I purchased a few home grown peaches and a homemade cookie and we were off to the bridges.

The bridges were definitely OFF THE BEATEN PATH! Five miles down a dirt road and there it was..built in 1873. The large sign warned that vehicles over 6 tons could not cross. I was very adamant that we would not be taking the F-150 across this bridge - yes, I can swim, yes, it was shallow water - no, I was not taking any chances!

The second bridge was about four miles away at a park. It was very pretty. I gained a lot of knowledge about these bridges, tucked away along the west side of the state. I tried to take in the architecture of the bridge, wondering about the people that walked or drove their horse and buggy across the strong wooden planks.

Now off to visit MADISON COUNTY!!!

Class of 1982

November is a popular month for high school reunions. One reason, I believe, is that people "go home" for Thanksgiving. Thus, by going home, they are usually in the vicinity of "the old neighborhood". Therefore locals and out of towners usually can spare six to eight hours from the Thanksgiving weekend to spend time with people they have not seen in 10, 20 or 30 years.

When I received notices about the OPHS Class of '82 - TWENTY year reunion, I was in shock. I could not fathom that it was almost 20 years that I sauntered across the stage at Pontiac Standium and received my diploma. I wanted to go yet I did not want to go. I mentioned my dilemma to an older woman and she said, "People mature after twenty years. Maybe not ten years but twenty years for sure." Ok, so that was a plus. Alisa, my dear friend and sidekick especially during the "high school days", tried every convincing line to get me to commit to attend the reunion.

I had a list of excuses: "I cannot go - I need to lose weight!" "Perhaps it will be canceled because not enough people will purhcase the tickets." I wanted my other friends, Collette and Sheri to join us - make this a team effort. No, they could not make it. Finally, I decided. I called Alisa and said, "Fine. I will go". I smiled as I said it. Since Alisa was willing to drive in from Chicago - then I was willing to attend this affair.

A week before the reunion , I was testing out different color coordinations of make-up. I already had the outfit. Of course, one wants to look good and why not? Saturday arrived and I was ansty. Had the butterflies in my tummy just like I did on the first day of kindergarten. Why was I so nervous? I am sure I was not the only person feeling this way but that was no consulation at the moment.

I picked Alisa up (just like I did in high school but I was not late this time!) at her cousin's house.
Since I was planning to drive to the location, I had my Journey CD ready to play WHOSE CRYING NOW as soon as the car started. However, Alisa wanted to drive. Ok, I could deal without listening to Steve Perry belt out lyrics. I sat down in her car and I heard a ripppp. The slit in my skirt tore. Now the slit was very high. We had to go back inside and sew the skirt. Great way to begin the evening.

When we arrived at the function, all of my worries just melted away. The once 18 year old students transformed into grown ups!! Pretty women adorned in dressy outfits and dresses, handsome men with "distinguished looking" grey hair at the temples, shouts of "Oh my gosh, is that so and so?", lots of hugs, smiles and thoughout the evening, I would hear people delivering sincere compliments to each other.

Alisa and I split up for a while, (just like we used to do when we went out shopping or played video games at the Space Station) and spoke to different people. I shared a very long conversation with someone I never even talked during the years at Oak Park High. All in all, it was a great time. In fact, we stayed until the end - !

Moral of the story - Live for the day and listen to your friend - you're bound to have fun!

PROUD

I am simply remembering the tragedy that occured seven years ago today on September 11, 2001. The sights and scenes of destruction and carnage are branded in my mind. I cannot forget the evil, almost devil-like eyes of one of the terrorist leaders that was on the plane that struck one of the towers.

Most of all, I remember how the people of America, regardless of race, religion or beliefs, bonded together, as one nation, one RESILIENT group of people.

Enough said.

Never Gonna Let It Go

I was the tender age of four when I was presented with my first set of wheels. Forest green, metal seat, little plastic streamers dancing from the inside of the handle bars. Oh, did I mention the three wheels! My little tricycle transported me up and down the sidewalk. Once in a while, Collette would stand on the step and jubilantly shout, "Home James!" and I would whisk her away, to the corner of our street.

Once I learned to maneuver a two wheeler without training wheels, I had another bike. I only remember that it was very basic and it was blue. When I was 8 years old, I received a beautiful Huffy dragster. The banana shaped seat was white and trimmed with a black racing stripe. The frame was a fiery metallic magenta that glistened in the sunshine as I rode through the neighborhood. Attached to the dipped handle bars was a basket in case I needed to carry an item on my many journeys.

Then, it was spring. 1977. The big day arrived - it was a Friday, my dad's day off from work. I was 13 years old and I was now mature enough to have a 10 speed. Wow, ten gears!!! My dad bought me a bicycle that day. The popular and reliable brand was Schwinn. But NOOO, I wanted to be different. My choice was a FUJI brand. Since my cousin was a bicycle salesman, he assisted us in the decision. I loved that bike. I traveled all over on that bike, even to my girlfriend Maria's house. She lived about one and a half miles away - that was a big trek for a young girl, usually riding solo. The times were different then(seems like those words are used quite often) - it wasn't unsafe to ride alone but one had to be cautious. That bike was my salvation. My mom adored the bike too. My 5'10" stature required the seat to be at a higher setting therefore, my mom found it difficult to get on the bike without lowering the seat. She did not use the bike very often. That was fine with me because that bike was mine! I utilized my FUJI for many years after that summer of '77. The design was great for me, it rarely needed any type of repairs and it was such a pretty shade of turquoise....

Over the past eight years or so, I have received verbal eviction threats. My FUJI hangs in the corner, out of the way from other numerous items that fill the garage. Alas!, I always seem to convince the repo man that it is my little antique - part of my teenage years, an integral source of transportation when my mom could not provide me with personal taxi service (she did 98% of the time!).

Thirty one years later and I continue to have custody of this precious possession. The tires need to be replaced, the frame has a slight dent in it but one day soon, I will travel with her just like the good ol' days and we will ride off into the sunset...

New Orleans on my Mind

March was always an exciting month when I was growing up. Every year, my siblings and I would receive a package filled with beaded necklaces that shimmered violet, chartreuse and burgundy. Some of these baubbles had large gold coins (also refered to as "doubloons" in the French language, which describe the "Krew's emblem, name and founding date on one side and theme and year of the parade on the other).

My great-grandfather immigrated to the Big Easy from Russia before WWI. A few years later his family followed him which is one reason why Mardi Gras was a very familiar event in our family.

The stories that were told to me about Jackson Square , the Cabilldo and the French Quarter enhanced visions into my young mind. I attempted to imagine what a po’boy sandwich tasted like. I almost felt the vibration from the trumpets belting out the sound of jazz throughout the French Quarter. My visions were transformed to reality when I visited New Orleans with my mother and sister in 1996.

The tour guide was my great uncle Izzy, a native of the city. Uncle Izzy showed us sights that were off the beaten path and informed us of trivia that I have yet to see in any book. New Orleans – quite an eclectic blend of people, history, culture, food and antiques. The Spring Jazz Festival, the mysteries hidden inside the voodoo stores (which I did explore), rides along the Bayou , the famed landmark restaurants than have existed for over 100 years such as The Court of Two Sisters, Antoines, and the more recent establishments such as as Emeril’s. Dining on crawdads and ‘taters, gumbo, shrimp creole and pralines added zest (and calories) to this wonderful experience.

When I say, “My family is from New Orleans ” a smile graces across my face and I will always hold a special place in my heart for this City of Saints .

Wrist Candy

Bracelet. brace?let ?? (brslt) KEY ?NOUN:
An ornamental band or chain encircling the wrist or arm.
Something, such as a handcuff, that resembles a wrist ornament.
ETYMOLOGY: Middle English, from Old French, diminutive of bracel, armlet, from Latin brcchile, from brcchium, arm ; see brace



Me and my bracelets. Usually silver, "once in a blue moon" I wear gold. Chunky. Funky. Marquisite. Little gems. Cuffs. A message in the Inuit language. Costume. Woven threads entwined with glass beads. Dangling charms. Turquoise. I look at these bands that adorn my wrist. The clinking song that sounds when they slide up and down my arm is soothing to me.



When I was 7 years old, I wanted a P.O.W. bracelet. My older cousin had one and I wanted one too. The silver cuff bracelet was engraved with a solider's name on it. A soldier who was a prisioner in Vietnam. If he was Missing In Action, a little blue? sticker was placed on the bracelet. When OR if the soldier came home, the bracelet was sent to him. Quite touching. Many people wore a P.O.W. bracelet. It seemed like everyone had one....everyone but me,,...I was too young. However, I wasn't too young to have compassion for those brave service people.

Funny, I do not feel the need to wear a watch. I ceased wearing a watch during the summer of '87. On the other hand, my wrists feel naked if I do not have at least one bracelet on. Unfortunetly, I lost two treasured bracelets. One just slipped off my wrist. Whenever I purchase a new bracelet, I have a special clasp put on by my favorite jeweler, Joel. He owns Mount N Repair in Birmingham and performs excellent work.

A few of my friends enjoy wearing bracelets too. Sometimes I will purchase a bracelet for them for their birthday or holiday celebration. It is soooo tempting to"treat" mysef to a pretty bracelet at the same time BUT I do have willpower! Whew!!!

Motor City

Summertime in the Motor City. Every week ,in various towns, in cities vast and small, a car show is usually taking place. Now, this is not just a gathering for any vehicle. These machines with wheels are the crème de la crème, at least through the eyes of an antique car fan or owner.

I must admit, I am not very knowledgeable about these treasures. However, when I attend a show, my quest is to gain at least one piece of information. So far, through my "self taught mechanic class", I can proudly state that I know that when an 396 is stamped on the engine, it indicates the size of the engine!

The owners are more than happy to discuss car facts, stories about “the good ol' days”, engine size, paint color, when they purchased it and how much money was drained from their savings account. Basically, they will talk about anything and everything about their prized possession.

I gaze in awe at the 'Cadillac with the large rear fins, the creamy mint green Fairlane with it large body, a 1977 Mark IV, a souped up Chevy Nova (my mom had a very conservative 1977 Nova) and one of my favorites, a '69 Chevelle. Canary yellow, metallic blue, the color is irrelevant - I really wish I could say I owned a Chevelle. Heck, I wouldn't mind just driving one for a few minutes.

I wander a bit more, peeking inside the cars and wondering what the little box is above the glove box. I asked one of the gentleman nearby and he replied that it was a record player!! Yes, it actually held '45's and played the music - operates in a fashion similar to a cd, cassette or 8 track tape player !!

Ok, there she is...the pretty Mustang!!! 1967, green with white leather interior. The steering wheel is soo thin, the back seat incredibly small. Oh, but it is a beauty...and indeed one of my favorite all time cars.

The sound of laughter echoes in the background, somebody shouting, "look at this" and the music from the 1950's blares from the speakers. The lavender and rose horizon transforms to an almost evening sky on this memorable summer night in Michigan, home to the Motor City.

Transformation

The establishments that I frequented when I was a teen and young adult no longer exist. They have been bought out, renovated, merged and everything else in between.

Recently, Anheuser- Busch in Missouri was purchased by a Belgian-Brazilian Company.

My girlfriend resides in a suburb of St. Louis. Last week she informed me that she took her children for one final visit of the Clydesdale Horses at Grant's Farm. I do not know too much about Grant's Farm. However, I do know that my friend visits that farm often. Hopefully, it will not close. Following is an excerpt from the Grant's Farm website:

There are many exciting animal encounters possible at Grant's Farm, the 281-acre ancestral home of the Busch family, located just south of the city of St. Louis. The Farm is home to more than 1,000 animals representing more than 100 different species from six continents. Grant's Farm, operated by Anheuser-Busch, Inc., has been a St. Louis tradition for over five decades.

As I said, hopefully this ancestral home will remain.

I realize seasons change, cities get renovated, landmarks get transformed. With the blink of an eye, da-da!! The ribbon cutting for the new ......? It just seems like this is occuring to many venues, all at once. Baseball stadiums no longer have names such as "Tiger Stadium" (which was demolished last week ). Corporate Corporate Corporate! Now, baseball fans in Detroit go to Comerica (as in Comerica Bank) Park.

The names of the stores have been altered. Many stores do not exist. Here are a few examples of the stores (some in the metro Detroit area) that have changed names or are just a part of the archives because they no longer exist:

Arbor Drugs is now CVS

J.L. Hudsons is now Macys

Pine Knob is now DTE

Henry Ford Musuem is now THE HENRY FORD

Farmer Jack grocery does not exist

Harmony House records does not exist (maybe one classical store in R.O.)?

The good "old fashioned" movie theatres that DO NOT have stadium seating are starting to close down too.

Can't we just slow down a bit? I know the past is not the present but we can at least preserve some of it.

Mosquito Be Gone

I consider MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING to be one of my favorite movies. Family, culture, romance and of course, laughter!! One product that is mentioned throughout the movie is Windex. Windex cures pains, takes away pimples, it has over 100 uses. Not to mention that it cleans windows too.

Lately, I have unknowingly invited unwanted guests into my house. Always after dark. The mosquito. The little, leggy insect that makes a distinct buzzing noise near the ear. I have experienced countless battles with this irritating blood sucker! Every time I attempt to swat it, whoosh, it is gone. Touring the ceiling, fluttering behind the refrigerator. Of course, I usually end up with a gift or two in the morning - nice red bites.

This time, I was ready to win this war. I thought of the movie, remembered the Windex and VOILA!!! Quick spray, no mess on the wall and the mosquito was history!!. In fact, the wall will be clean and it doesn't harm the paint!

The Merger

M & M's and chips (any brand, flavor or the way it is prepared - low fat, no fat, baked) and they must have some salt.

I will use Rachael Ray's famous saying (although I detest when she says this):

"YUMM-O!!!"

Address Not Unknown

One day I decide to send a few dollars to the Disabled Vets. A few days later, I am gifted with an array of colorful address return labels. Adorned in the colors of Old Glory, I am happy with my gift. Is it really a gift? Didn’t I donate money to the organization? Well, I cannot complain. Until I receive a letter of despair from another organization. Ok, fine, a small donation wouldn’t hurt. Wow, I thought as I opened a larger packager I received. A nice notepad with not one but FOUR different lighthouse designs. Well, since I collect lighthouses, once again, I enjoy my gift.

This cycle is like a wheel that just won’t stop. Address labels, a letter of thanks, address labels, another thank you letter.

I am not cheap. I just do not care to donate every Monday and Tuesday (every week) to every organization that has my name from a list. I wrote a note begging – please save your funds – do not send any more labels. It did not work. They are aware that I enjoy sending letters, cards and notes. However, if I had to utilize all of my labels, (including holiday ones), I would have to send out about 2,000 pieces of mail!

All Aboard!!!

If you resided in Southeast Michigan before 1991, it is very possible that you visited Bob-Lo island. During the summer months, we would look forward to taking a trip across the river, to a different country. We traveled on a vessel filled with many people, listened to the music and watched the frothy waves sway back and forth along the Detroit River . We boogied on the dance floor, explored the deck and after expressing extreme patience, we arrived at the island. My eyes searched for my favorite ride - The Log Ride. I could not wait to sit in the log, legs streched out, floating in the water until it was time to climb the hill. Chug, chug, up the incline. Heart racing, eyes open for a second and then the g-force begins. There it is, the stomach in the mouth feeling, screams of intense excitement penetrated my ears and then, it is over. Until the next incline. Sometimes we were sprinkled with the water. I thoguht it was so much fun!!! Of course, the park was home to many other rides such as rollercoasters, dodge-em cars and even a haunted house. Who could forget riding in the Model T cars? In our young minds, we thought we were really controlling the wheel!!

My grandpa Moe joined us on one trip. He really had fun. I was in charge of "keeping an eye" on my six year old brother. He was walking down the stairs, which were very close to the edge of the boat, and I was scared he was going to fall. I grabbed his hand just to be safe. Always the worry wart... that's me. Nonetheless, I was, and continue to be, the mother hen of the brood.

The classic story occurred in 1978. My mom always buggied us to the coolest fun spots. This time, she surprised us with a spur of the moment trip to Bob Lo. We headed for the Detroit port and missed the boarding time by about five minutes. My mom, she is an ambitious lady. She said, "That's ok, we will go to the Wyandotte port. It isn't too far from here." Once again, we were a few minutes too late. Since there was only one daily pick-up in Wyandotte, we did not go to Bob Lo that day. The day was not a disaster - it had a sweet ending. My mom took us for ice cream - who would complain about that?

Unfortunately, Bob Lo island closed in 1993 and is now a residential community. Good website is
http://boblosteamers.com/

Flowers Everywhere

A big treat for our family was to watch "slides" on the weekends. My dad would bring out the projector and insert the big cube that held about 30 slide photos. Once the lights were off and the projector,which always made a slight humming noise, faced the blank wall it was Showtime!!!

Photos of ladies with boufant hairstyles, men with "lamb chop" side burns, birthday candles getting blown out....then the flowers. Rose bushes against the brick wall, a close up of a daisy. Flowers and more flowers!! I wanted to ask my dad why he photographed so many displays of flowers. I never did.

When I became interested in flowers and creating outdoor flower pot arrangements, I began to take photos of various blossoms. Not just one or two pictures. More like twenty. Now,

photographing flowers is my annual summer tradition. The vivid colors. The beauty of the center of a tulip. Water droplets on the leaf of a Ladies Slipper. Finally, I understood why my dad had so many photos of flowers.

My Generation?

"Hey, Hey, My, My...Rock and Roll will never die..." the words are quite clear. Rock and Roll will never die. In 1954, dj who worked for a radio station in New York coined the phrase "rock & roll". Back in the day, "rock and roll" musicians ranged from Booker T. and the MG's, Chuck Berry and of course, Elvis, to list a few. Enter 1964 (what a great year to be born!) and the Beatles invade America. Following their British mates, THE WHO breaks out with their first song in 1965. Music continues to get "psychedelic" with songs about white rabbits, purple haze and an "adonis like man" inviting listeners to light his fire.

The following years bring great rock and roll. Some bands break up. Young musicans choose to abuse substances, sometimes ending their careers or leaving the world in an abrupt fashion. Despite losing Keith Moon in 1978 and John Entwhistle in 2002, The Who continues to rock.

VH-1 classics (ok, am I disclosing my age ?!) hosted a week-long series on The Who, one of my favorite artisits. I saw the rock opera Tommy the summer of '76 with my Grandmother. I remember my mom dropped us off at the Livonia Mall movie theatre (which I thought was a very long ride from Oak Park) and I simply fell in love with Roger Daltrey. He possessed the long, curly, tendrils of light brown hair and "sweep me off my feet" crystal blue eyes. OUCH! This was a bit too much for a 13 year old to handle. When I wore my Tommy t-shirt the first week of 6th grade, I instantly made about 3 new friends. These young ladies simply wanted to look at the gorgeous man on my shirt!

When I was a Junior in high school, I was re-introduced to the Who. I gained the understanding as to what the songs were really were about. Pete Townshend's words are tremendous. We used to go to the Birmingham theatre (sometimes after midnight) to watch the movie Quadrophenia. As a teenager, I could somewhat relate to the main character, Jimmy.- he was confused. He was a Mod (see website Mod (lifestyle) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia) (after all, I was labeled Ms. Mod (not the definition listed above) in middle school and it was not a compliment, it was daily harassment) and he struggled with the challenges of daily teenage life.

Many of us giggle when we watch these rockers rock. Why? We joke about their age. Question their full heads of hair with small, minute specks of grey. They are a bit slower at jumping in the air, they may wear comfortable shoes instead on the platform shoes or boots, and their pants may be tight NOT because they want them to be. Should we really be concerned about how they look? If we shut our eyes and just listen to the songs - that is where the beauty is. Roger may not have that beautiul long hair and I am not a 13 year old teenybopper either (just a 44 year old teenybopper....(only sometimes).

As I mentioned earlier, rock and roll will never die. I give a standing ovation to Roger and Pete (along with all of the other SENIOR CITIZEN ROCK ICONS) to keep the rock era of the 70's rocking as long as possible - even if they have to perform from their rockers! (oops, another joke). LONG LIVE ROCK!

My oh My it is the Moai!

I have always been in awe of the all the wonders of the world. Sure, there are the seven wonders. I believe there may be a new assorment of the seven wonders of the world. In my mind, I just wonder how these mysteries developed. Stonehenge. The Great Sphinx. The MOAI!

One of my treasured places to visit on my virtual web tour of the world is Easter Island. Home of the Moai.

I do not know why I find the Moai so fascinating . Is it the vast size? The intricate faces? The people that created them.? I just don't know...

here is the linkhttp://www.mysteriousplaces.com/Easter_Island/index.html

Behind the Scene

I do not discuss politics with many people. I do not desire to defend my opinion. Sometimes, words get twisted, heat rises. Soon, you and your neighbor look the other way when you are both outside. Not worth it to me.

However, when I want to really support a candidate, I am very generous with donating my time to their campaign. It is an opportune time to meet people in the community. It began a few years ago when I assisted a gentleman running for City Council. Since the telephone is physically glued to my ear, I performed the job of "the caller". A few years later, he was running for State Representative and I performed the same task for him. This gentlemen surprised me one day when he suggested that I join the political bandwagon. He wanted to endorse me to run for City Council and another political office. I politely declined. I am a "behind the scene" person. I do not care to be in the "political spotlight."

Currently, a good friend of mine is running to get re-elected as the County Commissioner. I have really enjoyed the ride of assisting with her campaign. I had a blast walking in the City Parade, proudly holding one side of her large banner. I went door to door with her in my neighborhood. We covered about a mile and people were so responsive and friendly. I hope she wins. I say that because she cares about people. She was the director of the Youth Assistance Program where I have been a volunteer for 13 years. Helps kids, helps people..

...Oh, did I mention the dirt that is sprinkled in politics? I would not even make a mud pie with it.