Last week, when I was visiting family in Pennsylvania, I ate out more times in two days than I did from the time I was 0 to 13. This behavior would have shocked my frugal parents back in the ’50s and ’60s. From the time I was born until I was thirteen I think I dined out twice. (I did tour the McDonalds in Beaver Falls with the…
My long time friend Carolyn’s father passed away a few weeks ago and while I was telling him my final, tearful goodbye, I couldn’t help but notice what a nice casket he was in. I snapped out of it and got back to saying my goodbye to Mr. Riley, who always kindly made time for me and respected my family. And, I have to say, his casket was…
Italian women bound into a flurry of baking activity before big holidays like Easter and Christmas. Then they rush their baked goods to friends and family, as though the holiday will not happen unless every last baked good is delivered.…
Today is the 23rd anniversary of my mom’s passing. She was a force of nature; making you crazy one minute, making you laugh the next. This story is proof. “Franzes!” I heard my mother’s irritated scream echoing along the metal hallways of the Queen Mary. My father and I exchanged knowing glances and knew our tour of the engine room was over. My dad loved seeing the ship’s quarters…
In Western Pennsylvania, there are traditions you just have to keep. One is pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day. I may not live there currently, but I’ll be damned if I’m giving up this tradition, it’s too good. It’s said to be good luck to eat pork on New Year’s Day because pigs root forward, so, your year will start in a positive direction, unless you’re a…
I was on the phone with my sister-in-law yesterday talking about Thanksgiving and what keeps families together over the years. I think witchcraft might be involved. We were lured in like Italian Hansels and Gretels by wonderful ravioli and slow-cooked sauce on Sundays. My mom acted innocent,while enticing us to sit together with delicious meals every night, where the chuck roast or turkey was so tender it fell…
My brothers were smart, they knew not to bring girls they dated home. The few times they did, Mom would be nice, unless the girl happened to touch them. Holding hands, snuggling, or showing any kind of affection meant she was a puttana and would never do for her sons. She never remembered names, only referring to them as, “datta gal,” as in, “Tella datta gal to eatta…
How sad that today’s kids will never know the thrill of waiting until the sixth time their mother screams their name to actually get moving, then blame it on not being able to hear her. Cell phones have taken the excitement away. Thank God batteries still die, so there’s hope for today’s youth. But nothing can replace the way parents used to have to muscle their kids into…
Jesus is in trouble. Ever since my father’s house sold last year, he’s been in limbo. I just found my mother’s treasured 8×10 of him in a corner of my bedroom buried under a pile of partnerless socks. When I moved the sock pile, I discovered my mom’s glow in the dark rosary beads and a St. Anthony plaque laying on top of him. I claimed them all…
Ever experience something you don’t talk about much because you know people will look at you funny? For me, it was the night my mom visited — maybe 7 or 8 years ago. If you’ve been reading this blog for long, you’ll know that’s impossible because my mom died in 1992. However, when she was alive, she always said that after she died she was coming back as…