Once upon a time...there was a young boy named Patrick Farrell...Slim was his knickname...a rambunctious wirey tall young lad...from 84th Street...who enjoyed all his sports to the fullest...I'm sure he thought he was gonna be the next Roger Staubach, quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys...throwing that deep, Hail Mary bomb...to wide receiver, Drew Pierson...
And certainly don't rule out, Slim, dreaming with the idea of taking over for Ron Santo at 3rd Base, of the Cubs, someday, either, or even taking over for his idol, Tony Esposito in the nets for the Hawks...truly one of his greatest passions...And if you hung with Slim, inevitably, you were gonna be having lots of fun...that was just a given....
Slim, you see, was very much, his own man, from an early age...While most of us were true, blue White Sox fans...Slim was the absolute biggest Cubs fan...And yes, the Dallas Cowboys, were the team for Slim, completely...How could you not wanna root for them Cowboys...???...if you hung around with Slim......way back when we were 8 or 9 or 10 years old...
If you entered Slim's house back in the day...you were usually met by Slim's Mom, who was simply a joy to be around...She did treat all of Slim's friends like we were truly something special, when we all knew, we were, nothing but a bunch of budding little monsters...
And then, all of Slim's sisters, would pop up around each and every corner...Katie, Colleen, Mary, Maureen, Jenny & Betty...all at various ages...all happy, little go-getter, girls...so very Irish looking...all just like their Mother...who teased and tattled on Slim...endlessly...
I know Slim must have looked up to his Dad, rather woefully, on more than one occassion, and asked his dear Dad, why did you have to have so many girls...???...
How I did dread Slim's situation, because he above all others, had a deliciously mischeivious side to him...and in the early years...his little madcap hijinx...took quite a few hits...as it wasn't uncommon to hear one of Slim's sisters to call out...
Mom...Pat is doing this again...!!!...Mom...Pat is doing that, again...!!!...
It certainly drove him crazy...being the only boy, amidst all those girls...but he was undaunted...just plowing ahead...and doing completely funny & crazy stuff...and worrying about the damning consequences, later...
To take you back to early Slim, you'd see him...shuttle us past his sisters, in his neat bi-level deluxe home, as quickly as possible, down to his room...where he knew it was safe...to conduct his private hobbies & endeavors...
He'd shut his door...but not before one of his sister's would yell out...
Mom, Pat has friends in the house...!!!...And their shoes are all muddy...!!!...
Slim did slam that door behind him...and the only one who could enter was his dear dog...Blue...
Blue, was an odd mutt...if there ever was one...a black & silvery & even blue, Scottish Terrier, I'm guessing...and he'd just maul anyone...for attention...until you had to beg Slim, to get his crazy mutt...off of us...
There, within his room...Slim would reveal his brand new baseball cards and then later on, look around, very slowly, as if the C.I.A. may be watching, then pull out his Parley Cards...once he thought the room was absolutely safe...and the coast was clear.
What are Parley Cards...???
See, Slim ran a gambling operation amidst us 5th & 6th Graders...getting his Parley Cards from a neighbor kid...a local bookie...who I'm guessing...actually did have ties to the mob...I know it sounds silly but it really was quite fun...and when its all said and done, Slim got a nice piece of the pie...from his efforts...
See...Parley Cards, had a breakdown of the odds...for every NFL & many college football games that week...And all of Slim's buddies, including me, were hooked immediately...We took great pride on slapping down our $3-$5...for a chance at beating the odds...and circling our various choices, for each week...
Damn...we all thought we were Jimmy the Greek, back then...taking a stab...at winning...a nice big chunk of change..for us youngsters...We'd grab ahold of those tiny sheets of paper, embosesed with the teams and the odds...rabidly and quickly, buckling down...
We'd be measuring each possible bet, with a tremendous flair of reasoning...in which we felt...was gonna get us that jackpot...every time...and sure...I won a few...myself...
Slim took great pride, in keeping his little gambling venture secret...and in true Slim style, never got caught by anyone...That young Slim was a slickster, thru and thru...Like I said, we'd be down in his room...and you'd clearly see his Dallas Cowboys bed-spread and garbage can...Cubs & Bears & Blackhawk stuff...all about...and baseball mitts and bats and hockey stuff & trophies...in every corner...Truly, he was a mega-sports-junkie...(as most of us...his friends were...too...)...
I'll let you slide back, right now...slip back to one of those typical Slim adventures...as we rode our bikes, like hell on wheels, up to the funky, skunky little paradise lost...known as The B....near my house...which had this very high chain-link fence...to keep trespassers out...like us...
Suddenly, Slim, would jump off his bike and make a mad dash to the fence...He just remembered, that he had a new windbreaker coat on...and getting over that fence...may be a little tricky...No matter, Slim...ascended the fence...getting to the very top...Well, that seemed easy, enough, then...laughing at all of us...up at the top...
Rrrrrrippppppppp...!!!...
There was suddenly a giant rip in Slim's new coat...so suddenly...so completely, ruining the damn thing, cuz' it got stuck on some little barb wire thingie at the top...You could see that look in Slim's eyes, almost able to hear his sister's screams...
Mom, Pat's got a giant rip in his coat...!!!...
Or...
Mom, look at Slim's coat, he's gonna need a new one...!!!...
Slim slid back down, no longer in a jovial mood...just staring at this giant tear...just hanging down, rendering the coat, useless...ready for the bottom of his Cowboys trash can...in his room...
But oh no...the story, does not end there...For about a week later...we cruised aimlessly and shamelessly, back up to, where else, The B...again...And again, Slim, got to the top, with a reckless abandon...and damn...it happened once again...Call it Deja vu'...call it what you will...
Rrrrripppppppppp....!!!...
Egad...Slim...don't look down...I believe you did it again...You ruined another brand new windbreaker. Slim, at this point was a bit mortified...saying...
My Mom & Dad are really gonna kill me...this time...!!!...
Oh yes...Slim knew the doghouse...not only awaited Blue...sometimes...He too...was there, quite a bit, also, from time to time....himself...unfortunately...But just chalk this one up as one of Slim's more dubious moments...Surely, he was pretty darn smooth...and he took it all in stride...
But who can forget...Just that funny, funny look of horror, which came across Slim's face, hearing that..Rrrrippppppppppp...!!!!..
Oh yeah, that happened, in some way, to all us kids, back then...always crashing & bashing forward...so recklessly, never thinking, we could be stopped...until something beyond mystifyingly, crazy would happen...that would end our reign of terror...for that day...
Most definitely, I could go...on and on...cuz' Slim was the enigmatic, elite master of hi-jinx...who made it almost a nightly ritual to sneak out, crawling out of his window of his room...into his backyard...late at night...to wander all about...looking for trouble...
He'd always try to grab Eddie B or the Murphy Boys or Davey Scalise...out with him...into the danger zone...playing well past curfew...having as good a time...as any little crazy fool could have had back then, and surely enough...Slim never got caught...so, so much of the time...
The one and only, Patrick Slim Farrell...A bit of a rascal...a bit of a daredevil...and a bit of the crazy man...who would grow up along side me...and along side of all of my crazy buddies...for some mad-cap adventures...that are truly hilarious, truly unique...and sometimes truly unbelieveable...
And yes...for all of you...to enjoy...only a few pages away....into the Twilight Zone...So do stay tuned...
(On a side note....I spoke to Slim and he said Blue his dog was actaully an Irish Kerry Blue Terrier, not a Scottish Terrier...Murph's, a block away, had an Irish Kerry Blue Terrier too...one more, rather amusing side note...Jim O'leary had a penchant for selecting CLEMSON every week on my football Parley Card...and it covered its points...every single time...which baffled Slim to no end...Of course, I had no idea, that Clemson even existed...I just always liked to cling to something, bizarre and off the wall...that defied logic...to some extreme...I still follow those bizarre hunches, that make no sense to others...I just fly that way...When it works, you look like a genius...and if it doesn't...it's something to laugh about...A win-win to me...no doubt...)
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Playground Days
Who doesn't fondly recall...jumping all about...running and screaming outside...during recess...in our younger days...It's hard not to imagine...those times...not being some of the most care-free, joyous times we all look back upon with a chuckle or two...during our immensely fun Playground Days...
And my days, for those recess times, that spanned 20-30 minutes, at Saint Thomas More...out in the parking lot...a hard, blacktop surface, that seemed to stretch endlessly...never, ever appeared anything less than an oasis...from our drudgery of daily school life...
Sure, other schools may have had grass...or maybe swings or even monkey bars...but it really never phased us one single bit...because, once out there, the laughter and happiness of being a kid, took over, and propelled our imagination, our strong legs and arms...and our endlessly loud, howls at each other...all creating a symphonic bit of a frenzy...not one single one of us...can now...re-enact...but do vividly recall...
All of us...such a bundle of energy...scattering, battering, screaming all about, here and there...some of the girls playing jump rope, some of the boys playing tag...It was rather simplistic...but there was never a dull moment...in our early, early years....
As we grew taller...our spirits and wits only grew higher...and our boundless energy...made us quite a bunch to control and corral...as our recesses would fly by, ever so quickly, then wind down...in no time at all...during our middle grades...
One of the things, that was quite unique for our school recess time...at Saint Thomas More...was a game for us boys, we called, Smear The Queer...a mashed mix of rugby, football & hooliganism...at its finest...This faded blacktop, sometimes snowy, sometimes filled with puddles,became our battleground...feet pounding...people chasing...shirts ripping...mouths bleeding...One second, you are scott free...running wild...frantically scampering...
Then suddenly, running out of breath...within seconds...looking all about...realizing you are cornered...and expecting to be smothered with clash of elbows and fists and bodies colliding in a furious motion...of activity...scaring you with a bit of horror and pain...
All the girls could do...is look on...and cringe...and laugh...and cover their eyes...and by all means, stay out of our way...as us thunderous herd of boys, came perilously close to death, in a funny kind of playground madness...
Most of the time...there we were...starting off our recess...we'd roll up a winter cap...into a ball...and just throw it up in the air...and off...the chase was on...We all had our moment in the sun...smashing, crashing, breaking loose...and forging past...a brick wall of kids all vying for that curled-up winter cap...It was a tremendous feeling of exhileration, beyond wild compare at the time...And it was more often, than not...a hellacious battle between some of the tougher kids, getting mean and ornery, would erupt...if the tangled melee got a little too rough and dicey...
Surely...Punches flew, angry glances shared and usually a bit of wild laughter resulted when it was all said and done...as we plodded back into the school...our clothes in tatters and our minds a clouded haze of rage...sometimes bleeding, sometimes not...but everyone of us, felt like we just ran a damn marathon...and could easily pant and gasp...for at least, another good 5 minutes...to just wind down...
Inevitably, the beat-downs of Smear, subsided, as the teachers tried to introduce us to more civilized activities...KICK-BALL was introduced...as a game for both girls & boys to play with, at the same time...which was quite fun...in around the 6th Grade...I do remember being out on the black-top, during kick-ball, playing Second Base...when the rather large red ball came quickly bounding directly at me...awkwardly catching me off-balance...My eyes were forced to look down at the ball, locking it in, as it punched into my gut...
and then suddenly...WHAMMY...this brazen, tom-boy, of a girl, a freaking runaway train called, Kathy Callahan, came barreling into me, Pete Rose style...wiping me out...forcing the ball to drop out of my hands...and sending me sprawling, flat to the pavement, scraping my knees, and knocking the wind out of me...leaving me endlessly...quite embarassed a mere girl, had just cleared me out...completely...
I did manage, to stagger, then, stand back up, at that moment...a little woozy, a little dizzy...but mostly the utter red, red, red, embarrassment, was the most startling thing I do recall from such an encounter...There Kathy stood back up, on Second Base, victoriously, with a very big smile on her face...and I think all the crazy kids were cracking up...because the trainwreck collision was quite a doozy...and I always did manage to keep a close eye on Kathy Callahan, from that point on, expecting her to try something like that again...
Then for a brief time...we tried to play...QUARTERS... a fun little bit of magic...tossing coins between cracks on the pavement...It was quite a hoot...cuz' we all had the potential, to toss a ripe quarter into a crack...and maybe win...a few bucks...and the undeniable pride...of being just about as cool as it gets...back then...
As our final year, out on the pavement, came winding down, our 8th Grade teacher Mister Sullivan, made us play soccer...We all thought he was crazy...Soccer...????...What the hell is that...???...But he made it his passion to get us to play our hardest and eventually we did catch on and it was a blast...making Mister Sullivan, very happy...he succeeded in introducing this new sport, soccer to us, to understand and enjoy...
Well....recess is over...I hear the bell...ringing...and ringing....and ringing...
Yes...stop now...stop playing...it's over...QUIT PLAYING!!!...Did you hear me...???...March back into here...right this very second...You heard me...
Awwwwww...not already....Yuuuuccckkk...I don't wanna go back to school...
Yes....You said that then...but now realize...you'd jump at a heartbeat...to go back in time...to those illustrious...Playground Days...all of us...every single, one of us...who cherishes...and holds, those moments, so near and dear, to our hearts...
And my days, for those recess times, that spanned 20-30 minutes, at Saint Thomas More...out in the parking lot...a hard, blacktop surface, that seemed to stretch endlessly...never, ever appeared anything less than an oasis...from our drudgery of daily school life...
Sure, other schools may have had grass...or maybe swings or even monkey bars...but it really never phased us one single bit...because, once out there, the laughter and happiness of being a kid, took over, and propelled our imagination, our strong legs and arms...and our endlessly loud, howls at each other...all creating a symphonic bit of a frenzy...not one single one of us...can now...re-enact...but do vividly recall...
All of us...such a bundle of energy...scattering, battering, screaming all about, here and there...some of the girls playing jump rope, some of the boys playing tag...It was rather simplistic...but there was never a dull moment...in our early, early years....
As we grew taller...our spirits and wits only grew higher...and our boundless energy...made us quite a bunch to control and corral...as our recesses would fly by, ever so quickly, then wind down...in no time at all...during our middle grades...
One of the things, that was quite unique for our school recess time...at Saint Thomas More...was a game for us boys, we called, Smear The Queer...a mashed mix of rugby, football & hooliganism...at its finest...This faded blacktop, sometimes snowy, sometimes filled with puddles,became our battleground...feet pounding...people chasing...shirts ripping...mouths bleeding...One second, you are scott free...running wild...frantically scampering...
Then suddenly, running out of breath...within seconds...looking all about...realizing you are cornered...and expecting to be smothered with clash of elbows and fists and bodies colliding in a furious motion...of activity...scaring you with a bit of horror and pain...
All the girls could do...is look on...and cringe...and laugh...and cover their eyes...and by all means, stay out of our way...as us thunderous herd of boys, came perilously close to death, in a funny kind of playground madness...
Most of the time...there we were...starting off our recess...we'd roll up a winter cap...into a ball...and just throw it up in the air...and off...the chase was on...We all had our moment in the sun...smashing, crashing, breaking loose...and forging past...a brick wall of kids all vying for that curled-up winter cap...It was a tremendous feeling of exhileration, beyond wild compare at the time...And it was more often, than not...a hellacious battle between some of the tougher kids, getting mean and ornery, would erupt...if the tangled melee got a little too rough and dicey...
Surely...Punches flew, angry glances shared and usually a bit of wild laughter resulted when it was all said and done...as we plodded back into the school...our clothes in tatters and our minds a clouded haze of rage...sometimes bleeding, sometimes not...but everyone of us, felt like we just ran a damn marathon...and could easily pant and gasp...for at least, another good 5 minutes...to just wind down...
Inevitably, the beat-downs of Smear, subsided, as the teachers tried to introduce us to more civilized activities...KICK-BALL was introduced...as a game for both girls & boys to play with, at the same time...which was quite fun...in around the 6th Grade...I do remember being out on the black-top, during kick-ball, playing Second Base...when the rather large red ball came quickly bounding directly at me...awkwardly catching me off-balance...My eyes were forced to look down at the ball, locking it in, as it punched into my gut...
and then suddenly...WHAMMY...this brazen, tom-boy, of a girl, a freaking runaway train called, Kathy Callahan, came barreling into me, Pete Rose style...wiping me out...forcing the ball to drop out of my hands...and sending me sprawling, flat to the pavement, scraping my knees, and knocking the wind out of me...leaving me endlessly...quite embarassed a mere girl, had just cleared me out...completely...
I did manage, to stagger, then, stand back up, at that moment...a little woozy, a little dizzy...but mostly the utter red, red, red, embarrassment, was the most startling thing I do recall from such an encounter...There Kathy stood back up, on Second Base, victoriously, with a very big smile on her face...and I think all the crazy kids were cracking up...because the trainwreck collision was quite a doozy...and I always did manage to keep a close eye on Kathy Callahan, from that point on, expecting her to try something like that again...
Then for a brief time...we tried to play...QUARTERS... a fun little bit of magic...tossing coins between cracks on the pavement...It was quite a hoot...cuz' we all had the potential, to toss a ripe quarter into a crack...and maybe win...a few bucks...and the undeniable pride...of being just about as cool as it gets...back then...
As our final year, out on the pavement, came winding down, our 8th Grade teacher Mister Sullivan, made us play soccer...We all thought he was crazy...Soccer...????...What the hell is that...???...But he made it his passion to get us to play our hardest and eventually we did catch on and it was a blast...making Mister Sullivan, very happy...he succeeded in introducing this new sport, soccer to us, to understand and enjoy...
Well....recess is over...I hear the bell...ringing...and ringing....and ringing...
Yes...stop now...stop playing...it's over...QUIT PLAYING!!!...Did you hear me...???...March back into here...right this very second...You heard me...
Awwwwww...not already....Yuuuuccckkk...I don't wanna go back to school...
Yes....You said that then...but now realize...you'd jump at a heartbeat...to go back in time...to those illustrious...Playground Days...all of us...every single, one of us...who cherishes...and holds, those moments, so near and dear, to our hearts...
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
My Nieces & Nephews--the 1st wave
...I think this is as good a time as ever, to get to meet some of my little buddies, growing up, my dear, sweet, nieces & nephews...Really, the first wave of the bunch, only range 6-12 years younger than me and we pretty much had a complete ball...growing up together...
...Of course, we have to go way back to 1970 when the whole kiddie train express began rolling thru the O'Leary depot...Boom...!!!...Right out of the box...Young Charlie, Eddie, Colleen, Mike, Michelle, Thomas, Carrie, Pat, Kate, Patrick & Petey & Bridget...all came screaming into the world...Every single one of them...a pure joy to be around...
(Really, we should include Jimmy & Johnny & Katie Fitz...too...because they were not too far behind...and equally enjoyed the chaos...and let's just throw in Joey & Sean & Kevin & Kelly & Danny & Shea who would rock into this world...sometime down the line in the 1980's & beyond)
...There was never, ever anything less than an endless amount of laughter and good times as we played all kinds of games...together...growing up...Oh gosh, back then...I'd pick them up & toss them around...and give them all piggy-back rides...until I'd collapse...from exhaustion...And at that point, they would all be yelling...Do it again...!!!...Do it again...!!!...
...It was such a precious time, almost a golden era, itself, seeing these little tykes, chewing on their pacifiers, running around in their diapers, always full of fun...Of course, our times we shared together up in Lake Geneva...are just permanently imbedded in all our minds...
It is just unmistakable, not to recall, chasing each other around the blue/green shag carpeted living room...My Mom had this funky GREEN SHAG BALL...and it was huge & heavy...and we'd roll it back at each other...or run into the back bedroom and make some neat forts out of the bunk beds...
...Those old bunk beds...when transformed into forts...were just about the coolest thing in the world to these young kids...draping a blanket from the upper bed, over the lower bed...creating a hidden oasis...for those huddling inside...giggling & giggling away...almost never wanting to leave...those forts...because it was like no other place they could imagine...
...Also, out in the kitchen, in those olden days, we had these swivel bar stools around the tall, circular kitchen table...It truly was unique...and I don't know how many times, these tykes came close to falling off the bar stools, because they all loved to spin & spin...around & around, until they were out of their minds...dizzy...
We celebrated a ton of birthday parties out at that table, all the kids gathered around a burning candle-lit cake, spinning & spinning...Just having a good time, amidst their Mom's & Gramma scurrying about to fill their plates with ice cream & cake, trying to get things all pulled off, without someone crying or making too big of a mess...
...Of course, bed time up at the LAKE HOUSE was immense fun...because all the kids were winding down from a day of complete joy...piling into the pink & green alcove genie bed, or somewhere nearby...once again...giggling away...as me or Gramma or their Mom's would read them a bed time story...all of us caught up in the moment...gently folding page after page...with the kiddies eyes...nodding off...every now and then...
...then daybreak would come and the kids were off to the pier or off to the beach or out onto the Granny Franny for a delightful adventure ride...We'd always be counting off the life preservers we'd need for this huge assemblence of kids...
God, some of them, absolutely hated wearing a life preserver....and who could blame them...they got awfully hot to wear with the sun, beating down on them...and they were so bulky & heavy...and their clasps had to be adjusted constantly because these kids were quite a handful...
...It wasn't uncommon for the kids to jump up next to Gramma who always sat in the back of the boat, feeling the sprays from the waves coming aboard and drenching them, with water and with laughter...Gramma always had extra beach towels...aboard...to cover the kiddies...when they got drenched or needed away to hide from the sun...that seemed to blaze down from the sky...
...Just some amazing, amazing memories...out on the Granny Franny...with all the kiddies...Sometimes, I really think my Mom & Dad had every intention of buying the boat for us 8 older kids...but it soon became obvious...all the tiny grandchildren just loved every minute aboard the Granny Franny...even more...You just can't buy that much fun...these days...because they were much simpler times...and things were so much more relaxed back then...
...Today...parents huddle over their kids...every single second..expecting the worst...from their children's every tiny little movement...But back then...we all didn't mind a little danger...Grampa was nearby...or someone like Grampa...who could easily just swoop down...if need be...and we were all quite lucky...because none of us...ever fell overboard...or ever had any kind of stressful moment...
...Of course...Gramma always loved to pick up toys from Schultz's or Ben Franklin...They could be squirt guns or rubber balls or little balsa wood airplanes...or frisbees...and on and on and on...
...Playing frisbee or tag or the unforgettable baseball games in our backyard at the Lake House, are also etched permanently in our brains...I'd love to make our whiffle ball--baseball games as realistic as possible...even though we were only using plastic FAT ALBERT bats...that would belt endless homers...up...and over...the roof...
...What an incredible display...of popping one...way up high...or way out into Barney & Grace's yard next door...We all just had a knack for easily manage jumping from our yard into a 3 foot drop into Barney's yard to quickly retrieve the ball as someone was scampering around the bases in glee...just glowing they had just parked one out on their Uncle Jim...
...And sometimes...the plastic whiffle ball would get lost in the huge density of shrubs and foliage that lined the perimeter of the Yellow House...It would stop our games...and we'd all gather sifting through the shrubs...with someone always shouting triumphantly of finding the ball...
...Also...our neighbor to the right...Bev...would sometimes...keep our ball..if we hit it out onto her deck...where she liked to relax and look out at the water, drinking a beer, listening to a ball game on a transistor radio...We'd almsot form a SWAT SQUAD mentality, if we knew we were gonna have to form a search & rescue team...to sneak onto Bev's deck and scavenger back the ball...
...You really could go on & on...the horse rides, the go cart rides...going to PLAYLAND or the RIVIERA in Lake Geneva to play old video & pinball games...some of those...which still remain there...to this very day...
...And we always had a gaggle of good times back on 86th Street for holidays or an occaisional visit...All the kids were just happening at such a rapid succession, that it seemed our good times woulde never, ever end...and even as the children grew...they all had such a big smile, recalling those precious moments...with Gramma...with Grampa...with their brothers & sisters...with their cousins...with their Mom's & Dad's...and Aunts & Uncles...
...All moments...steeped deeply into their very fabric...of who they were and who they are now...for the traditions of good times...and love and laughter...were truly unique & special in every which way...
...I'd love to pull out some especially great moments that occured from each of my nieces & nephews, perspective, of the impact they had upon my life...individually...but we are talking 21 kids...and such a wide array of stories and I'd hate to put more emphasis on one story rather than another...
Basically, they all know, those were some of the best times, we ever had...and there really is never, ever gonna be a shortage of time...to bring back those memories, together, whenever we still...get the chance to talk or visit...
...Many of my nieces & nephews have their own kids...these days...and the joy they share with their children almost reflects the spirit of good times...they had as children...way back then...long, long ago...back in the 1970's...just a heartbeat away...to many of us...even to this very day...
...Of course, we have to go way back to 1970 when the whole kiddie train express began rolling thru the O'Leary depot...Boom...!!!...Right out of the box...Young Charlie, Eddie, Colleen, Mike, Michelle, Thomas, Carrie, Pat, Kate, Patrick & Petey & Bridget...all came screaming into the world...Every single one of them...a pure joy to be around...
(Really, we should include Jimmy & Johnny & Katie Fitz...too...because they were not too far behind...and equally enjoyed the chaos...and let's just throw in Joey & Sean & Kevin & Kelly & Danny & Shea who would rock into this world...sometime down the line in the 1980's & beyond)
...There was never, ever anything less than an endless amount of laughter and good times as we played all kinds of games...together...growing up...Oh gosh, back then...I'd pick them up & toss them around...and give them all piggy-back rides...until I'd collapse...from exhaustion...And at that point, they would all be yelling...Do it again...!!!...Do it again...!!!...
...It was such a precious time, almost a golden era, itself, seeing these little tykes, chewing on their pacifiers, running around in their diapers, always full of fun...Of course, our times we shared together up in Lake Geneva...are just permanently imbedded in all our minds...
It is just unmistakable, not to recall, chasing each other around the blue/green shag carpeted living room...My Mom had this funky GREEN SHAG BALL...and it was huge & heavy...and we'd roll it back at each other...or run into the back bedroom and make some neat forts out of the bunk beds...
...Those old bunk beds...when transformed into forts...were just about the coolest thing in the world to these young kids...draping a blanket from the upper bed, over the lower bed...creating a hidden oasis...for those huddling inside...giggling & giggling away...almost never wanting to leave...those forts...because it was like no other place they could imagine...
...Also, out in the kitchen, in those olden days, we had these swivel bar stools around the tall, circular kitchen table...It truly was unique...and I don't know how many times, these tykes came close to falling off the bar stools, because they all loved to spin & spin...around & around, until they were out of their minds...dizzy...
We celebrated a ton of birthday parties out at that table, all the kids gathered around a burning candle-lit cake, spinning & spinning...Just having a good time, amidst their Mom's & Gramma scurrying about to fill their plates with ice cream & cake, trying to get things all pulled off, without someone crying or making too big of a mess...
...Of course, bed time up at the LAKE HOUSE was immense fun...because all the kids were winding down from a day of complete joy...piling into the pink & green alcove genie bed, or somewhere nearby...once again...giggling away...as me or Gramma or their Mom's would read them a bed time story...all of us caught up in the moment...gently folding page after page...with the kiddies eyes...nodding off...every now and then...
...then daybreak would come and the kids were off to the pier or off to the beach or out onto the Granny Franny for a delightful adventure ride...We'd always be counting off the life preservers we'd need for this huge assemblence of kids...
God, some of them, absolutely hated wearing a life preserver....and who could blame them...they got awfully hot to wear with the sun, beating down on them...and they were so bulky & heavy...and their clasps had to be adjusted constantly because these kids were quite a handful...
...It wasn't uncommon for the kids to jump up next to Gramma who always sat in the back of the boat, feeling the sprays from the waves coming aboard and drenching them, with water and with laughter...Gramma always had extra beach towels...aboard...to cover the kiddies...when they got drenched or needed away to hide from the sun...that seemed to blaze down from the sky...
...Just some amazing, amazing memories...out on the Granny Franny...with all the kiddies...Sometimes, I really think my Mom & Dad had every intention of buying the boat for us 8 older kids...but it soon became obvious...all the tiny grandchildren just loved every minute aboard the Granny Franny...even more...You just can't buy that much fun...these days...because they were much simpler times...and things were so much more relaxed back then...
...Today...parents huddle over their kids...every single second..expecting the worst...from their children's every tiny little movement...But back then...we all didn't mind a little danger...Grampa was nearby...or someone like Grampa...who could easily just swoop down...if need be...and we were all quite lucky...because none of us...ever fell overboard...or ever had any kind of stressful moment...
...Of course...Gramma always loved to pick up toys from Schultz's or Ben Franklin...They could be squirt guns or rubber balls or little balsa wood airplanes...or frisbees...and on and on and on...
...Playing frisbee or tag or the unforgettable baseball games in our backyard at the Lake House, are also etched permanently in our brains...I'd love to make our whiffle ball--baseball games as realistic as possible...even though we were only using plastic FAT ALBERT bats...that would belt endless homers...up...and over...the roof...
...What an incredible display...of popping one...way up high...or way out into Barney & Grace's yard next door...We all just had a knack for easily manage jumping from our yard into a 3 foot drop into Barney's yard to quickly retrieve the ball as someone was scampering around the bases in glee...just glowing they had just parked one out on their Uncle Jim...
...And sometimes...the plastic whiffle ball would get lost in the huge density of shrubs and foliage that lined the perimeter of the Yellow House...It would stop our games...and we'd all gather sifting through the shrubs...with someone always shouting triumphantly of finding the ball...
...Also...our neighbor to the right...Bev...would sometimes...keep our ball..if we hit it out onto her deck...where she liked to relax and look out at the water, drinking a beer, listening to a ball game on a transistor radio...We'd almsot form a SWAT SQUAD mentality, if we knew we were gonna have to form a search & rescue team...to sneak onto Bev's deck and scavenger back the ball...
...You really could go on & on...the horse rides, the go cart rides...going to PLAYLAND or the RIVIERA in Lake Geneva to play old video & pinball games...some of those...which still remain there...to this very day...
...And we always had a gaggle of good times back on 86th Street for holidays or an occaisional visit...All the kids were just happening at such a rapid succession, that it seemed our good times woulde never, ever end...and even as the children grew...they all had such a big smile, recalling those precious moments...with Gramma...with Grampa...with their brothers & sisters...with their cousins...with their Mom's & Dad's...and Aunts & Uncles...
...All moments...steeped deeply into their very fabric...of who they were and who they are now...for the traditions of good times...and love and laughter...were truly unique & special in every which way...
...I'd love to pull out some especially great moments that occured from each of my nieces & nephews, perspective, of the impact they had upon my life...individually...but we are talking 21 kids...and such a wide array of stories and I'd hate to put more emphasis on one story rather than another...
Basically, they all know, those were some of the best times, we ever had...and there really is never, ever gonna be a shortage of time...to bring back those memories, together, whenever we still...get the chance to talk or visit...
...Many of my nieces & nephews have their own kids...these days...and the joy they share with their children almost reflects the spirit of good times...they had as children...way back then...long, long ago...back in the 1970's...just a heartbeat away...to many of us...even to this very day...
Thursday, December 11, 2008
STM: Sister Brenda & Sister Elvira
Indeed...aghast washes over many the faces...who read the title of this installment...for we are about to delve into the twisted, kooky world...of two helplessly, bizarre nuns...who graced many of our lives at Saint Thomas More...back in the 4th & 5th Grade...
Sister Brenda & Sister Elvira...hold the distinction of being the most feared nuns at Saint Thomas More...during the time of their glorious reign...back in the bustling early/mid 70's...When you ever-presently think back to, back then, our flat-out, overwhelming sentiments of us kooky kids were "Ohh...please, please, please God...just don't let me end up with either, Sister Brenda or Sister Elvira for homeroom. I will clean my room, I will eat my peas and I'll even play the big-ass tuba or the silly little flute , in the school band, gosh darnit, if you let me slide, this one, one time...Please God...I'm just telling you...I'm too young to die..."...Undoubtedly, this mantra echoed thru every school child's incredibly intense, almost sobbing, out-of-control, prayers, at mass every Sunday morning...
Let's see...Hmmmm...who should we go with first...Flip a coin...Pick your poison...Ohh hell, just get it over with...like ripping off that nasty scab on your knee...or getting vaccinated with that giant stinging needle...back then...
Oh yes, here we go...why not...Sister Brenda...Why not...indeed...
Sister Brenda...just showed up one unforgettable day, out of the clear blue, and sucked the life out of every single kid's life she came in contact with...She was in her 60's...wildly, witch-like, white hair...just ferociously ugly...and her screaming and ranting voice pierced your very trembling little soul...as she taught us back in the 4th Grade...when we were still more like meek, lost impressionable lambs...more than anything...else...
Her demeanor was almost demonic...not that she was THE DEVIL...but awfully damn, close...
And unfortunately, for my classmate, Danny Hahn, her wrath became totally fixated on him mostly, and his long, long blonde hair....We all had the BIG SCARY HAIRY HAIR...back then...but Danny's hair was almost as long & as pretty as a girl's hair...And for this...he would be punished extremely beyond his small, slim body could fathom and rather harrowingly way beyond his harmlessly, naiave comprehension...too...
Sister Brenda, would wretchedly grab ahold of Danny's golden locks and just unmercellesly pull it as hard as she could, flinging Danny, all about, like a rag doll, just leaving the kid, almost in a delerium of sorts...We did call Danny, affectionately, CHONGO, back then, because that was the name of a wild jungle kid...on The Banana Splits show...
See. the Banana Splits, was THE TOP KID's SHOW back then and our Chongo did like to duplicate/make the crazy "Monkey Noises" that the real Chongo made, making us laugh and laugh and laugh...Danny Hahn definitely was alot wilder, than your average kid...
But for our CHONGO, the laughter of hopping all about, making funny faces, joking all around, quickly disappeared...as Sister Brenda, put the hammer down, ruthlessly, slapping Danny's face, Smmmaaaackkk, grabbing his hair, and endlessly telling all the children,
Hahn, you look like a girl....Just look at this hair...It's a girls...When are you gonna get it cut...???
Brenda also absolutely had a genuine obsession with finding alot of kids with big, puffy-wuffy cheeks...and squeezing them ever so tightly and twisting them, mangling them, turning them red & blue...until it ungodly hurt...
Chalk up the extra chubby cheeks of big guys, Joe Just & Mike Mulligan, primarily, followed by the punk patrol...Slim Farrell & John Fitz. I know Slim & Fitz took quite a few slugs from Sister B...Hey, just about anyone could fall under her clenching claws...at any given moment...so for God's sake...watch out...!!!...
Then we get a little sordid and strange...Why...??? How should I throw this out? Another little shocker about the dubiously demented Sister Brenda...was she definitely sadistically enjoyed to get all the young boys lined up at the urinals, in the bathroom, in quick, little impromtu sessions....
There she was, in the boys bathroom, walking very slowly and almost the entire time, leering wickedly at us, hovering right up behind us, brushing her long nun's habit up against all of us...screaming at the top of her lungs...in unholy terror...
....GET THE POISON OUT, BOYS...!!!...GET THAT POISON OUT...!!!
Something tells me, dear, dear Sister Brenda had a slight bit of a psychological imbalance, Oh gosh...we really hated the idea of entering the bathroom with Sister Brenda baring down on us from behind...Damn...Talk about a total nightmare...hahaha....Sure, now we can laugh...
But hey...those were our times...and we had to, no doubt, roll with the punches...
Onto...the equally ominous and unaminously feared...Sister Elvira...She, herself, was almost a curmudgeonly midget of sorts...but don't let that fool you...she packed a wicked wallop...in her devilishly dynamic heart, that shifted from serene to psycho...in 2 seconds flat...
And if there was one distinct flaw I had to share about Elvira that sets her apart...(and believe me...there are many...dozens and dozens...and dozens..)...it would be her unwavering usage of Lysol Spray as a weapon of destruction...
Sister Elvira sprayed Lysol on everything...nothing was out of bounds...including you peanut and jelly sandwich...at lunch...Sure....she was the ultimate germaphobe's germaphobe...rendering all of us choking for dear life...as the nauseating mist...waffled about in a dense fog...across the entire classroom...all the time...
And I do know Fitz got half a can sprayed on his ass for farting...Oh well, Fitz, you shoulda seen that coming and not eaten so many beans...that day...my friend...
My brother Danny always gets a chuckle speaking of her sneak attacks with Lysol, while he had her, 5 years before, pouncing on unsuspeting kids, like a poor young fool, who dared to dawdle his loose toes, circling his warm, unsuspecting shoe...to and fro...
Booooom...!!!...Elvira, like a hyper kinetic cat, sharply descended upon him in a lightning, hellish fury...kicking the lad's shoe clearly across the floor...sending it spinning...then spraying an entire can...into the shoe...which took about 2 whole minutes...soaking, soaking and soaking, every conceivable germ out of that shoe's life...and then some...for sure...And who doesn't think back, now, scratching their head, saying...I wonder how "one shoe Willie" walked home that day...???
I, myself, can recall, one day, back then, being let go, to go to the bathroom, from my homeroom, down the hall...and slowly, gingerly wandering by...down the quiet corridor of an empty school hall...in a hush...past Elvira's classroom door, peering in at my dear school chums, caught in her elusive grip of terror...
There, I saw my good buddy, John Feely, a tall, curly-haired, amiable kid, if there ever was one...next to Slim & Fitz, almost frozen in a spooky, frightful stare...just following Elvira's erratic path...past him....as she mumbled past his desk...where he probably expected a wooden ruler across the hands or a cheap shot upside the head or maybe the the funky-fumigating Lysol...would make a special appearance...
I kid you not...I absolutely kid you not...And poor, poor, John Armata...just a rummy-dummy kid, just a fragile target, who endlessly struggled along...Imagine this tiny, Elvira, bashing away at this smiley, large, man-child, day in...and day out...I can still feel Armata's hopelessness now, wondering why he, such a happy soul, must endure such insanity...
We all, of course, no doubt, gained a tremendous respect for all our other teachers, who were not hell-bent on blending their ferociously chaotic, sinister spells...with their rabble-grabble mixture of pious, religious whaling & endless babbling of incoherent instructions...
I, myself, as I'm sure others, do too...feel so sorry for all those good, sweet nun's we knew, beautiful people...who incredibly shaped our young lives so much...in so many good ways...Those good & gracious nuns were amazing individuals whose loyalty to God & ability to emit God's love towards us, will always ring true...
But unfortunately, we instead, choose to focus on the two undeniably, dispicable, whackos, from some dark planet, in our solar system, or beyond...(...hell...???)
Surely...This perplexing paradox was not a pretty sight...to behold...our fate back then, but it did truly make us mighty, mighty tougher...for the realities of the real world...because as bad as your crummy job got, later on down the line, or how far your college grades slid...at least there was no turning back the clock...to you know what...and you know when...and you especially know, to you know who...
Sister Brenda...Sister Elvira...the twisted sisters...the tormenting twin terrors...the nasty, ghastly, one-of-a-kind nuns...Surely, our distinctive memories of them make us shyly shudder & shake...but inevitably, they make us laugh...a deep, deep, uproarious belly laugh......
Because the level of horrific absurdity...that reigned down on us...gave us a good measure of strength to overcome our fears...and leave us reminding each other...of our gallantry, to make it thru...to another day...in another time...in another splendid dimension...truly unique...to us Tommy More gang...back in the day...
Sister Brenda & Sister Elvira...hold the distinction of being the most feared nuns at Saint Thomas More...during the time of their glorious reign...back in the bustling early/mid 70's...When you ever-presently think back to, back then, our flat-out, overwhelming sentiments of us kooky kids were "Ohh...please, please, please God...just don't let me end up with either, Sister Brenda or Sister Elvira for homeroom. I will clean my room, I will eat my peas and I'll even play the big-ass tuba or the silly little flute , in the school band, gosh darnit, if you let me slide, this one, one time...Please God...I'm just telling you...I'm too young to die..."...Undoubtedly, this mantra echoed thru every school child's incredibly intense, almost sobbing, out-of-control, prayers, at mass every Sunday morning...
Let's see...Hmmmm...who should we go with first...Flip a coin...Pick your poison...Ohh hell, just get it over with...like ripping off that nasty scab on your knee...or getting vaccinated with that giant stinging needle...back then...
Oh yes, here we go...why not...Sister Brenda...Why not...indeed...
Sister Brenda...just showed up one unforgettable day, out of the clear blue, and sucked the life out of every single kid's life she came in contact with...She was in her 60's...wildly, witch-like, white hair...just ferociously ugly...and her screaming and ranting voice pierced your very trembling little soul...as she taught us back in the 4th Grade...when we were still more like meek, lost impressionable lambs...more than anything...else...
Her demeanor was almost demonic...not that she was THE DEVIL...but awfully damn, close...
And unfortunately, for my classmate, Danny Hahn, her wrath became totally fixated on him mostly, and his long, long blonde hair....We all had the BIG SCARY HAIRY HAIR...back then...but Danny's hair was almost as long & as pretty as a girl's hair...And for this...he would be punished extremely beyond his small, slim body could fathom and rather harrowingly way beyond his harmlessly, naiave comprehension...too...
Sister Brenda, would wretchedly grab ahold of Danny's golden locks and just unmercellesly pull it as hard as she could, flinging Danny, all about, like a rag doll, just leaving the kid, almost in a delerium of sorts...We did call Danny, affectionately, CHONGO, back then, because that was the name of a wild jungle kid...on The Banana Splits show...
See. the Banana Splits, was THE TOP KID's SHOW back then and our Chongo did like to duplicate/make the crazy "Monkey Noises" that the real Chongo made, making us laugh and laugh and laugh...Danny Hahn definitely was alot wilder, than your average kid...
But for our CHONGO, the laughter of hopping all about, making funny faces, joking all around, quickly disappeared...as Sister Brenda, put the hammer down, ruthlessly, slapping Danny's face, Smmmaaaackkk, grabbing his hair, and endlessly telling all the children,
Hahn, you look like a girl....Just look at this hair...It's a girls...When are you gonna get it cut...???
Brenda also absolutely had a genuine obsession with finding alot of kids with big, puffy-wuffy cheeks...and squeezing them ever so tightly and twisting them, mangling them, turning them red & blue...until it ungodly hurt...
Chalk up the extra chubby cheeks of big guys, Joe Just & Mike Mulligan, primarily, followed by the punk patrol...Slim Farrell & John Fitz. I know Slim & Fitz took quite a few slugs from Sister B...Hey, just about anyone could fall under her clenching claws...at any given moment...so for God's sake...watch out...!!!...
Then we get a little sordid and strange...Why...??? How should I throw this out? Another little shocker about the dubiously demented Sister Brenda...was she definitely sadistically enjoyed to get all the young boys lined up at the urinals, in the bathroom, in quick, little impromtu sessions....
There she was, in the boys bathroom, walking very slowly and almost the entire time, leering wickedly at us, hovering right up behind us, brushing her long nun's habit up against all of us...screaming at the top of her lungs...in unholy terror...
....GET THE POISON OUT, BOYS...!!!...GET THAT POISON OUT...!!!
Something tells me, dear, dear Sister Brenda had a slight bit of a psychological imbalance, Oh gosh...we really hated the idea of entering the bathroom with Sister Brenda baring down on us from behind...Damn...Talk about a total nightmare...hahaha....Sure, now we can laugh...
But hey...those were our times...and we had to, no doubt, roll with the punches...
Onto...the equally ominous and unaminously feared...Sister Elvira...She, herself, was almost a curmudgeonly midget of sorts...but don't let that fool you...she packed a wicked wallop...in her devilishly dynamic heart, that shifted from serene to psycho...in 2 seconds flat...
And if there was one distinct flaw I had to share about Elvira that sets her apart...(and believe me...there are many...dozens and dozens...and dozens..)...it would be her unwavering usage of Lysol Spray as a weapon of destruction...
Sister Elvira sprayed Lysol on everything...nothing was out of bounds...including you peanut and jelly sandwich...at lunch...Sure....she was the ultimate germaphobe's germaphobe...rendering all of us choking for dear life...as the nauseating mist...waffled about in a dense fog...across the entire classroom...all the time...
And I do know Fitz got half a can sprayed on his ass for farting...Oh well, Fitz, you shoulda seen that coming and not eaten so many beans...that day...my friend...
My brother Danny always gets a chuckle speaking of her sneak attacks with Lysol, while he had her, 5 years before, pouncing on unsuspeting kids, like a poor young fool, who dared to dawdle his loose toes, circling his warm, unsuspecting shoe...to and fro...
Booooom...!!!...Elvira, like a hyper kinetic cat, sharply descended upon him in a lightning, hellish fury...kicking the lad's shoe clearly across the floor...sending it spinning...then spraying an entire can...into the shoe...which took about 2 whole minutes...soaking, soaking and soaking, every conceivable germ out of that shoe's life...and then some...for sure...And who doesn't think back, now, scratching their head, saying...I wonder how "one shoe Willie" walked home that day...???
I, myself, can recall, one day, back then, being let go, to go to the bathroom, from my homeroom, down the hall...and slowly, gingerly wandering by...down the quiet corridor of an empty school hall...in a hush...past Elvira's classroom door, peering in at my dear school chums, caught in her elusive grip of terror...
There, I saw my good buddy, John Feely, a tall, curly-haired, amiable kid, if there ever was one...next to Slim & Fitz, almost frozen in a spooky, frightful stare...just following Elvira's erratic path...past him....as she mumbled past his desk...where he probably expected a wooden ruler across the hands or a cheap shot upside the head or maybe the the funky-fumigating Lysol...would make a special appearance...
I kid you not...I absolutely kid you not...And poor, poor, John Armata...just a rummy-dummy kid, just a fragile target, who endlessly struggled along...Imagine this tiny, Elvira, bashing away at this smiley, large, man-child, day in...and day out...I can still feel Armata's hopelessness now, wondering why he, such a happy soul, must endure such insanity...
We all, of course, no doubt, gained a tremendous respect for all our other teachers, who were not hell-bent on blending their ferociously chaotic, sinister spells...with their rabble-grabble mixture of pious, religious whaling & endless babbling of incoherent instructions...
I, myself, as I'm sure others, do too...feel so sorry for all those good, sweet nun's we knew, beautiful people...who incredibly shaped our young lives so much...in so many good ways...Those good & gracious nuns were amazing individuals whose loyalty to God & ability to emit God's love towards us, will always ring true...
But unfortunately, we instead, choose to focus on the two undeniably, dispicable, whackos, from some dark planet, in our solar system, or beyond...(...hell...???)
Surely...This perplexing paradox was not a pretty sight...to behold...our fate back then, but it did truly make us mighty, mighty tougher...for the realities of the real world...because as bad as your crummy job got, later on down the line, or how far your college grades slid...at least there was no turning back the clock...to you know what...and you know when...and you especially know, to you know who...
Sister Brenda...Sister Elvira...the twisted sisters...the tormenting twin terrors...the nasty, ghastly, one-of-a-kind nuns...Surely, our distinctive memories of them make us shyly shudder & shake...but inevitably, they make us laugh...a deep, deep, uproarious belly laugh......
Because the level of horrific absurdity...that reigned down on us...gave us a good measure of strength to overcome our fears...and leave us reminding each other...of our gallantry, to make it thru...to another day...in another time...in another splendid dimension...truly unique...to us Tommy More gang...back in the day...
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Danny O's
Without further adieu...it's time to roll back to the hey-dey of my family's version of Michael Jordan...The young sports phenom known around the hood as O's...my brother Dan...
Danny could do it all, in basically every phase of every sport, with a flair, a quickness, and a determination, that just left people in awe...I'd go watch him play shortstop for the Indians in Little League up at the park...and was amazed how effortless he made every ball look that came bashing his way...
He could stab it, he could scoot it...And when he got up to the plate...He could crack that ball to any field, then scamper for extra bases...I was kinda shocked he was my brother, because he never displayed his full abilities when horsing around the house...with us...
Of course, he had excellent, excellent, first class speed that served him well, playing basketball, which would be a life-long passion....There he would go, blistering by the opposition...quickly down the court. And he had such a natural stroke, from outside...
Just money...a sweet swish...many a time...It was his element, his time, his moment to shine...almost taking over the court, with his swarming defense...and his instincts for the ball...always coming to the forefront...
If you had O's on your team...you pretty much knew he was going to unleash an intensity, that was going to make a difference...Time and time, again, he just knew what to do, without any coaching...Just a formidable talent, who took it to the limit...
And then there was football...where he would go down as a legend, in Tommy More lore...In one single game, Danny scored 5 touchdowns...count em...5...!!!...On that day, as well as others, Dan just had it all, cooking on all burners...
He was an all-star running back, who could dash and dart, fake and roll, even bowl you over...if it was down on the goal line...The day after the game, on Monday, they declared it DANNY O'LEARY DAY...at Saint Thomas More...to honor this great achievement...
Danny never cared about the medals or awards, the trophies or accolades bestowed upon him...He just loved to, flat-out, compete...Plain and simple...And as he left the halls of St. Thomas More to go on to Brother Rice...he had gained a confidence and a discipline that always served him well...throughout his life...always...even up to this very day...
See, his fiery, never-say-die, determination will never leave him...It's always been apparent that he would be successful in everything he'd do...that he set his mind to...And even though he never mentions anything about his past...You can just tell, the little kid in him...would just like to regain that strength, that speed and that agility...one more time.....
He's always going to have that competitive edge...that cannot be denied...and one of his greatest moments, that I witnessed, was up at the old Carrol Park fieldhouse, for the Field Hockey championship...when he was 16 years old...
See, in our neighborhood, field hockey, was your true measure, of being incredibly tough...When you got out onto that gymnasium floor, it was a mayhem of grim brutality...Just a vicious, all-out war, that caused alot of blood to spill and alot of heart...to be put to the test...
On this one fearless Saturday Afternoon, Danny's team, the Rico Stiffs, took on the older and much tougher guys, a year older than them...The Rico Stiffs were big underdogs that day...but all of those guys, were having nothing, with anything short of victory...
That crazy bunch of kids playing for the Rico Stiffs...included Danny Moody, Chico, Luke Bailey, John Bar, Brady, Viv, Pat Collins, Terry Moore, Bob Howser, Tommy Walsh and Paulie Collins in the nets...Just a collection of cocky, knock-em, drag-em-out, rag-a-muffins, who could all smell victory in the air...after spending years & years in torment from their older foes...
You couldn't tell these Rico Stiff guys, nothing...They just oozed confidence, despite the other team, just loaded with much bigger & much stronger guys...It was shaping up to be a killer showdown, that the whole neighborhood was excited about...Man, talk about a battle royale...
The honorable Rich, our Park Instructor and referee...knew he had alot to handle for this match-up, but hell, he always liked to see things, just play out...fast & hard...and let the fellas tear it up...
And, of course...on that day...They stuck my brother Dan, on the most fearsome, dirty player, in the league. The most hated bully in the neighborhood...A monstrous dude named Thad, who wore a red bandana and had a huge, handle-bar mustache...
This thug, Thad, really was a splitting image of a more menacing Hulk Hogan.
This Norweigian strongman's whole deal was to plant himself, in front of the opponents net, and just dominate every aspect of anything happening in that vicinity...And Thad, incidentally, was a key, to his teams success...who usually just ferociously crushed opponents, into submission, left and right.
There they were, Dan & Thad, planted firmly in front of the net...an all-out war of position, as Thad just hacked away at every square inch of Danny's body, with his stick...over and over, again...
And each time, Thad would hack away, Danny just would grimace and fight back even stronger, just pummeling Thad, out of the way...even though Thad was twice as big as anyone, in the league.
Danny just got meaner and meaner, even though the welts and bruises were mounting and mounting...as a throng of hundreds screamed at all of the wild action, from just yards away. Bodies were flying, everywhere, as the intensity of this game, just grew and grew and grew...
Just a thunderous roar, of screaming and excitement, ripped thru the air, as Bob Howser of the Stiffs, went top-shelf, with a fleeting, wicked wrister, into the nets, giving them the lead, 1-0, on a penalty shot...after Thad had broken his stick across Dan's back, sending him flying...
That penalty shot score pissed off Thad, twice as much, with only 10 minutes left in the game, now frantically, bashing and bashing Danny, constantly, desperately trying to gain some advantage...but there would be no advantage that day...for Thad...
There, amidst the hazy, dark amber hue, of the fading gym lights above, on this cloudy Winter day, everybody inside was going crazy, absolutely bananas, banging against the metal doors and pounding on the wooden floors that surrounded the gym area...
Just a huge, almost deafening, commotion, not only because they could sense an upset...in the air...but because everyone hated Thad's guts...and loved every minute of him...meeting his match...that day...
As the clock slowly ran down...into the very last few seconds, Thad gave Danny one more brutal cheap shot that sent him sprawling to the ground...
Danny just struggled back up, and stared Thad down...It was a stare... of vindication...it was the stare of kicking his ass, despite the onslaught, he took upon himself, that day,...to withstand...
And as the buzzer sounded, the fans and the players of Rico Stiff's went wild, jubilantly jumping up and down...except for Dan...who just gingerly made his way off the gym floor, taking off his shirt, ever slowly, in quite a bit of pain, to reveal, just an ungodly amount of punishment, covered in red, red welts and dark blue bruises...he had to endure that day...
Anyone there that day witnessed one of the most intensively gruesome Field Hockey games ever held, anywhere, especially there at Carrol Park...
And anyone who got to wear that Carolina Blue, Rico Stiff's, Ashburn Park Field Hockey Champs jacket, got to wear it with a great deal of pride and complete satisfaction, that they would go down as truly one of the best teams to ever, ever play...the game...
Way to go...O's...!!!...You always got the job done...!!!
(as a foot-note...Paulie Collins would like to add that he played Defense mostly, but played Goalie in the Championship Game...and my brother Danny O's would like to add that he remembers shockingly that Paulie never wore his Carolina Blue--Rico Stiffs Champions Jacket...instead, putting it into a protective covering...preserving it, in its pristine condition...You figure, these days, that Jacket would provide quite a nostalgic link back at that heady era...when those, rock em', sock em' dudes, the Rico Stiffs, ruled the neighborhood, and commanded the respect, of all those who would follow...so rapidly unfolding, yonder back....in those unforgettable mid-1970's...)
Danny could do it all, in basically every phase of every sport, with a flair, a quickness, and a determination, that just left people in awe...I'd go watch him play shortstop for the Indians in Little League up at the park...and was amazed how effortless he made every ball look that came bashing his way...
He could stab it, he could scoot it...And when he got up to the plate...He could crack that ball to any field, then scamper for extra bases...I was kinda shocked he was my brother, because he never displayed his full abilities when horsing around the house...with us...
Of course, he had excellent, excellent, first class speed that served him well, playing basketball, which would be a life-long passion....There he would go, blistering by the opposition...quickly down the court. And he had such a natural stroke, from outside...
Just money...a sweet swish...many a time...It was his element, his time, his moment to shine...almost taking over the court, with his swarming defense...and his instincts for the ball...always coming to the forefront...
If you had O's on your team...you pretty much knew he was going to unleash an intensity, that was going to make a difference...Time and time, again, he just knew what to do, without any coaching...Just a formidable talent, who took it to the limit...
And then there was football...where he would go down as a legend, in Tommy More lore...In one single game, Danny scored 5 touchdowns...count em...5...!!!...On that day, as well as others, Dan just had it all, cooking on all burners...
He was an all-star running back, who could dash and dart, fake and roll, even bowl you over...if it was down on the goal line...The day after the game, on Monday, they declared it DANNY O'LEARY DAY...at Saint Thomas More...to honor this great achievement...
Danny never cared about the medals or awards, the trophies or accolades bestowed upon him...He just loved to, flat-out, compete...Plain and simple...And as he left the halls of St. Thomas More to go on to Brother Rice...he had gained a confidence and a discipline that always served him well...throughout his life...always...even up to this very day...
See, his fiery, never-say-die, determination will never leave him...It's always been apparent that he would be successful in everything he'd do...that he set his mind to...And even though he never mentions anything about his past...You can just tell, the little kid in him...would just like to regain that strength, that speed and that agility...one more time.....
He's always going to have that competitive edge...that cannot be denied...and one of his greatest moments, that I witnessed, was up at the old Carrol Park fieldhouse, for the Field Hockey championship...when he was 16 years old...
See, in our neighborhood, field hockey, was your true measure, of being incredibly tough...When you got out onto that gymnasium floor, it was a mayhem of grim brutality...Just a vicious, all-out war, that caused alot of blood to spill and alot of heart...to be put to the test...
On this one fearless Saturday Afternoon, Danny's team, the Rico Stiffs, took on the older and much tougher guys, a year older than them...The Rico Stiffs were big underdogs that day...but all of those guys, were having nothing, with anything short of victory...
That crazy bunch of kids playing for the Rico Stiffs...included Danny Moody, Chico, Luke Bailey, John Bar, Brady, Viv, Pat Collins, Terry Moore, Bob Howser, Tommy Walsh and Paulie Collins in the nets...Just a collection of cocky, knock-em, drag-em-out, rag-a-muffins, who could all smell victory in the air...after spending years & years in torment from their older foes...
You couldn't tell these Rico Stiff guys, nothing...They just oozed confidence, despite the other team, just loaded with much bigger & much stronger guys...It was shaping up to be a killer showdown, that the whole neighborhood was excited about...Man, talk about a battle royale...
The honorable Rich, our Park Instructor and referee...knew he had alot to handle for this match-up, but hell, he always liked to see things, just play out...fast & hard...and let the fellas tear it up...
And, of course...on that day...They stuck my brother Dan, on the most fearsome, dirty player, in the league. The most hated bully in the neighborhood...A monstrous dude named Thad, who wore a red bandana and had a huge, handle-bar mustache...
This thug, Thad, really was a splitting image of a more menacing Hulk Hogan.
This Norweigian strongman's whole deal was to plant himself, in front of the opponents net, and just dominate every aspect of anything happening in that vicinity...And Thad, incidentally, was a key, to his teams success...who usually just ferociously crushed opponents, into submission, left and right.
There they were, Dan & Thad, planted firmly in front of the net...an all-out war of position, as Thad just hacked away at every square inch of Danny's body, with his stick...over and over, again...
And each time, Thad would hack away, Danny just would grimace and fight back even stronger, just pummeling Thad, out of the way...even though Thad was twice as big as anyone, in the league.
Danny just got meaner and meaner, even though the welts and bruises were mounting and mounting...as a throng of hundreds screamed at all of the wild action, from just yards away. Bodies were flying, everywhere, as the intensity of this game, just grew and grew and grew...
Just a thunderous roar, of screaming and excitement, ripped thru the air, as Bob Howser of the Stiffs, went top-shelf, with a fleeting, wicked wrister, into the nets, giving them the lead, 1-0, on a penalty shot...after Thad had broken his stick across Dan's back, sending him flying...
That penalty shot score pissed off Thad, twice as much, with only 10 minutes left in the game, now frantically, bashing and bashing Danny, constantly, desperately trying to gain some advantage...but there would be no advantage that day...for Thad...
There, amidst the hazy, dark amber hue, of the fading gym lights above, on this cloudy Winter day, everybody inside was going crazy, absolutely bananas, banging against the metal doors and pounding on the wooden floors that surrounded the gym area...
Just a huge, almost deafening, commotion, not only because they could sense an upset...in the air...but because everyone hated Thad's guts...and loved every minute of him...meeting his match...that day...
As the clock slowly ran down...into the very last few seconds, Thad gave Danny one more brutal cheap shot that sent him sprawling to the ground...
Danny just struggled back up, and stared Thad down...It was a stare... of vindication...it was the stare of kicking his ass, despite the onslaught, he took upon himself, that day,...to withstand...
And as the buzzer sounded, the fans and the players of Rico Stiff's went wild, jubilantly jumping up and down...except for Dan...who just gingerly made his way off the gym floor, taking off his shirt, ever slowly, in quite a bit of pain, to reveal, just an ungodly amount of punishment, covered in red, red welts and dark blue bruises...he had to endure that day...
Anyone there that day witnessed one of the most intensively gruesome Field Hockey games ever held, anywhere, especially there at Carrol Park...
And anyone who got to wear that Carolina Blue, Rico Stiff's, Ashburn Park Field Hockey Champs jacket, got to wear it with a great deal of pride and complete satisfaction, that they would go down as truly one of the best teams to ever, ever play...the game...
Way to go...O's...!!!...You always got the job done...!!!
(as a foot-note...Paulie Collins would like to add that he played Defense mostly, but played Goalie in the Championship Game...and my brother Danny O's would like to add that he remembers shockingly that Paulie never wore his Carolina Blue--Rico Stiffs Champions Jacket...instead, putting it into a protective covering...preserving it, in its pristine condition...You figure, these days, that Jacket would provide quite a nostalgic link back at that heady era...when those, rock em', sock em' dudes, the Rico Stiffs, ruled the neighborhood, and commanded the respect, of all those who would follow...so rapidly unfolding, yonder back....in those unforgettable mid-1970's...)
Friday, December 5, 2008
4th Grade & Eddie Bar & Co.
...Back to my olden school days at Saint Thomas More...I pretty much flew thru 3rd Grade unscathed except for my first introduction to Science...In as much, every other subject was a cake walk for me...the wonderful world of Science just baffled me to no end...and would be my consummate enemy...from the get-go...
I can recall, my first Science teacher, Mrs. Reidy, burning a sugar cube, in front of her young, doleful pupils...all aghast as the tiny white sugar cube...turned black & burnt...She glowingly pointed it out, that this was some chemical change releasing carbon dioxide into the air...and on & on & on...It blew all our minds...for about 10 seconds...Then we all grabbed a handful of sugar cubes and chowed them down...releasing our own, endless sugar buzz, into the air...
After the 3rd Grade, came 4th Grade of course...and one of my most influential teachers I ever had, Mrs. Deters...came along...Nobody in their right mind, would say something like this, because she was a very difficult teacher who shook our very soul, trying to push us to our absolute limits...There seemed to be endless pop quizes...and endless homework assignments...Heck, we were turning into quite the disciplined bunch, facing her onslaught of difficult challenges...
And oh my God...How she would torment my new school chum, Eddie Barkowski, to no end...Eddie was the class clown and the most down-to-Earth kid in class...But Mrs. Deters, had this odd fetish, of grabbing Eddie, and shoving him, under her desk, anytime he acted up...Of course, you can imagine Eddie, underneath the desk, listening to the chuckles of classmates, as he was forced to linger there for 5 or 10 minutes...at least once a week...for sure...
I got to know Eddie, alot better, as I ventured off of my block and rode my bike 3 blocks North to his humble domain on 84th Street...There, there was quite a crew of young enthusiastic boys, all of them, who liked to play alot of touch football in the middle of the street...There was Tommy Kelly, the Sheahan brothers, Maggie and Eddie's 2 younger brothers, Neil & Mark...
And then you'd throw the wild Murphy brothers, John & Mike....and my good, good chum, Slim Farrell, into the mix...from a block away...and it was a great, great time...These guys had some skills, throwing themselves all about...They had a passion to compete...and several of these kids would go on to become stellar athletes growing up...
I'll throw this old flashback at you...Eddie Bar is quarterback...it is the last play of the game, and we faced insurmountable odds, because all we could do was throw a "Hail Mary" all the way down about 50-60 yards down...way, way down the block...and hope someone could catch it...Well, as you would expect, Eddie B, hurled a rope, way, way deep...just floating and fluttering into the sky as dusk was ascending upon us...at dinnertime...
There we were, sprinting down to the end zone, one last time, under the hue of the blueish glow of the streetlights that had just flickered on. All the kids came to a cluster, in the imaginary end zone...at the other end of the block, fighting for position to get at the ball, about 6 to 8 kids, grappling, shoving, screaming...as the football reached closer and closer and closer...
Suddenly, a bunch of kids collapsed to the ground...and I was there, all alone, the only one still standing there, as the warbling spiral just plopped into my hands, stinging them, quite severely. I kinda had to wrestle with the football but somehow, it just stuck in my hands like glue.
Everyone on the ground looked up in awe and disbelief...as I caught the ball, and then held it high, a victory had been sealed on this final play...Of course, Eddie B, some 55 yards away, came scampering up, jumping up and down, laughing with delight...elated with throwing his illustrious gem, and having it count as the winning touchdown...
There were alot of moments like this...for all of us kids back then...Just stuff, that sticks in our minds, for eons and eons...as impossible moments that remarkably transpire before your eyes...
It was a nice change of pace, to ride my bike, past 84th Street, from time to time...to see who was hanging out...Just running into Slim or the Murphs or Eddie B was always cool...These guys would become life-long friends, who remain some of my closest buddies, to this very day...It's funny, how none of us fore-saw any of this coming...
Back to the classroom...Mrs, Deters amidst her inescapable reign, really tried to get us to think outside the box...and have us write something different...We all kind of scratched our heads, because we didn't know what she meant...but I took up the challenge and cranked out my first writing masterpiece....MY MOM IS A CHOC-O-HOLIC...
Just the title alone, had Mrs. Deters in stitches...and it was quite a funny piece about my Mom's endless love of anything chocolate...I was introducing a new word to the English vocabulary, also, that haven't even been invented yet...CHOC-O-HOLIC...
It was quite a hoot for my Mom & Dad to read this story...too...From there on, Mrs. Deters always challenged me to write some more stuff out of the box...I think I may have also used one of my other creations, DRIVER GERM, a reference to me always getting sick and staying home from school, where I'd play with my Hot Wheels cars...just was a hoot...for lots and lots of laughs...
It was a sensational rush...to try to come up with some new words...just imagining all the possibilities out there...I loved it so much...I knew I had such a knack for it...This little spark that came out of Mrs. Deters influence upon me...would last forever...I can't thank her enough for raising my level of awareness beyond the ordinary hum-drum school work....
Even some of her pupils, still possess somewhere up in their attic...MY POETRY NOTEBOOK...a gathering of poems we were forced to create and combine into a 10 page lay-out that was then, posted into a nice cellophane cover...to make it look like it was our first little book...our very first novel, of sorts, that captured our mind-set...of the ways and days...of our 9 year old hearts...
Even to this day...most of my friends just cringe at the thought of Mrs. Deters, especially Eddie B, but this relentless taskmaster, had a little penchant for elevating our abilities to heights none of us could have ever expected...I really do appreciate that...her intensive skill and insightfulness...that almost everybody overlooks...except me...
Oh...don't go away...the heroic adventures of the great Slim & Eddie B & the Murphs & the crazy little kid from 86th Street are just getting started...as a bunch of new kids would join our gang and turn the neighborhood, completely upside-down...for many years to come...
(p.s....as a footnote...Eddie B, still remembers that pass, also, vividly...and estimated it was more like 50-60 yards...I counted it off and it was about 5 or 6 houses long...quite a long, long way...With all of Eddie's athletic accomplishments, I thought for sure, he had forgotten...His response...Not a chance...It was still up in his brain...just waiting there...)
I can recall, my first Science teacher, Mrs. Reidy, burning a sugar cube, in front of her young, doleful pupils...all aghast as the tiny white sugar cube...turned black & burnt...She glowingly pointed it out, that this was some chemical change releasing carbon dioxide into the air...and on & on & on...It blew all our minds...for about 10 seconds...Then we all grabbed a handful of sugar cubes and chowed them down...releasing our own, endless sugar buzz, into the air...
After the 3rd Grade, came 4th Grade of course...and one of my most influential teachers I ever had, Mrs. Deters...came along...Nobody in their right mind, would say something like this, because she was a very difficult teacher who shook our very soul, trying to push us to our absolute limits...There seemed to be endless pop quizes...and endless homework assignments...Heck, we were turning into quite the disciplined bunch, facing her onslaught of difficult challenges...
And oh my God...How she would torment my new school chum, Eddie Barkowski, to no end...Eddie was the class clown and the most down-to-Earth kid in class...But Mrs. Deters, had this odd fetish, of grabbing Eddie, and shoving him, under her desk, anytime he acted up...Of course, you can imagine Eddie, underneath the desk, listening to the chuckles of classmates, as he was forced to linger there for 5 or 10 minutes...at least once a week...for sure...
I got to know Eddie, alot better, as I ventured off of my block and rode my bike 3 blocks North to his humble domain on 84th Street...There, there was quite a crew of young enthusiastic boys, all of them, who liked to play alot of touch football in the middle of the street...There was Tommy Kelly, the Sheahan brothers, Maggie and Eddie's 2 younger brothers, Neil & Mark...
And then you'd throw the wild Murphy brothers, John & Mike....and my good, good chum, Slim Farrell, into the mix...from a block away...and it was a great, great time...These guys had some skills, throwing themselves all about...They had a passion to compete...and several of these kids would go on to become stellar athletes growing up...
I'll throw this old flashback at you...Eddie Bar is quarterback...it is the last play of the game, and we faced insurmountable odds, because all we could do was throw a "Hail Mary" all the way down about 50-60 yards down...way, way down the block...and hope someone could catch it...Well, as you would expect, Eddie B, hurled a rope, way, way deep...just floating and fluttering into the sky as dusk was ascending upon us...at dinnertime...
There we were, sprinting down to the end zone, one last time, under the hue of the blueish glow of the streetlights that had just flickered on. All the kids came to a cluster, in the imaginary end zone...at the other end of the block, fighting for position to get at the ball, about 6 to 8 kids, grappling, shoving, screaming...as the football reached closer and closer and closer...
Suddenly, a bunch of kids collapsed to the ground...and I was there, all alone, the only one still standing there, as the warbling spiral just plopped into my hands, stinging them, quite severely. I kinda had to wrestle with the football but somehow, it just stuck in my hands like glue.
Everyone on the ground looked up in awe and disbelief...as I caught the ball, and then held it high, a victory had been sealed on this final play...Of course, Eddie B, some 55 yards away, came scampering up, jumping up and down, laughing with delight...elated with throwing his illustrious gem, and having it count as the winning touchdown...
There were alot of moments like this...for all of us kids back then...Just stuff, that sticks in our minds, for eons and eons...as impossible moments that remarkably transpire before your eyes...
It was a nice change of pace, to ride my bike, past 84th Street, from time to time...to see who was hanging out...Just running into Slim or the Murphs or Eddie B was always cool...These guys would become life-long friends, who remain some of my closest buddies, to this very day...It's funny, how none of us fore-saw any of this coming...
Back to the classroom...Mrs, Deters amidst her inescapable reign, really tried to get us to think outside the box...and have us write something different...We all kind of scratched our heads, because we didn't know what she meant...but I took up the challenge and cranked out my first writing masterpiece....MY MOM IS A CHOC-O-HOLIC...
Just the title alone, had Mrs. Deters in stitches...and it was quite a funny piece about my Mom's endless love of anything chocolate...I was introducing a new word to the English vocabulary, also, that haven't even been invented yet...CHOC-O-HOLIC...
It was quite a hoot for my Mom & Dad to read this story...too...From there on, Mrs. Deters always challenged me to write some more stuff out of the box...I think I may have also used one of my other creations, DRIVER GERM, a reference to me always getting sick and staying home from school, where I'd play with my Hot Wheels cars...just was a hoot...for lots and lots of laughs...
It was a sensational rush...to try to come up with some new words...just imagining all the possibilities out there...I loved it so much...I knew I had such a knack for it...This little spark that came out of Mrs. Deters influence upon me...would last forever...I can't thank her enough for raising my level of awareness beyond the ordinary hum-drum school work....
Even some of her pupils, still possess somewhere up in their attic...MY POETRY NOTEBOOK...a gathering of poems we were forced to create and combine into a 10 page lay-out that was then, posted into a nice cellophane cover...to make it look like it was our first little book...our very first novel, of sorts, that captured our mind-set...of the ways and days...of our 9 year old hearts...
Even to this day...most of my friends just cringe at the thought of Mrs. Deters, especially Eddie B, but this relentless taskmaster, had a little penchant for elevating our abilities to heights none of us could have ever expected...I really do appreciate that...her intensive skill and insightfulness...that almost everybody overlooks...except me...
Oh...don't go away...the heroic adventures of the great Slim & Eddie B & the Murphs & the crazy little kid from 86th Street are just getting started...as a bunch of new kids would join our gang and turn the neighborhood, completely upside-down...for many years to come...
(p.s....as a footnote...Eddie B, still remembers that pass, also, vividly...and estimated it was more like 50-60 yards...I counted it off and it was about 5 or 6 houses long...quite a long, long way...With all of Eddie's athletic accomplishments, I thought for sure, he had forgotten...His response...Not a chance...It was still up in his brain...just waiting there...)
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving...a gathering...like no other...a tradition that bonds one another...bringing us all to the table...for a bountiful feast...and just a little bit of pumpkin pie with whip cream on top, if you still have room...of course...
When I think of Thanksgiving, I especially think of my Mom...Sure, this was her sure-fire way to kick it up a notch in the kitchen...but she always, always managed to throw together such a vast array of hidden little talents...into action...starting around mid-November...
See, my Mom, Frances, was notorious for making up a knock-down, drag-em-out, your-not-going-anywhere-til-you-get-this-done, Things-To-Do-List, that had to be reckoned with, before even thinking of throwing the bird in the oven...Just think of it as a Spring clean-up, meets odd jobs only a dispicable mind could conceive, with the additional measure of whipping up a collosoll feast, for a huge, huge crowd of at least 35-40 people, year in and year out...
It was the time of the year, where she hauled out the good china, where she got somebody to polish the silverware, and made every square inch of the house, sparkle and shine, in a radiant glow...Well, maybe that radiant glow came in after we sprayed some funky stuff on the dining room chandelier, that made it glisten, in a transluscent rainbow of colors...
That damn list had to be 6 pages long and some of the things on the list, even were written in my Mom's shorthand, a bunch of un-readable Chinese scribble that held some secretive matter, no one except my Mom could take on...You are getting it right, a downright, unfathomable, set of tasks, just for this single holiday...a list that seemed endless to us kids, holding our breath. as my Mom would rattle off a chore, and all of us ducking, to avoid, one of the more dubious tasks...
But eventually, one by one, my Mom would cross another thing off that list, and the 6 page list, became the 3 page list, then dwindling down to 1 page...And as we hit that last page, my Mom and sisters would hit high gear, in the kitchen, making up cherished holiday goodies, which were way beyond, mouth-watering...My Mom loved to dazzle everyone with her infinite knowledge of every single recipe...whether it was the special toll house chocolate chip cookies, or her complex stuffing recipe...the intricate madness of bammm!!!...going from one dish to another, so quickly, so effortlessly, was mind-boggling...
I'll just throw this out there as I remember it...My Mom's famous stuffing recipie...First, you poured out, about 6 packages of Brownberry bread crumbs, into 2 very large pans, next she would pour on the crumbs, a good measure of College Inn Chicken Broth...followed by some melted butter...Then we had to chop into tiny little specs, about 3 cups of white onions and about 3-4 cups of very fresh, very crisp, celery...Then with her own hands, my Mom would knead this concoction. mashing it all together, all the time, generating a rather sweet, pungent smell, of all of the ingredients combined...Finally, my Mom would dash a bunch of fresh crushed sage leaves, thyme, and a little poultry seasoning, all about...The stuffing, then, was good-to-go...Of course, it smelled so irresistable, even in its raw form, that everyone tried to grab a handful...My Mom, would have to slap our hands away from the stuffing pan because once you had a little, you wanted to have alot.
And all the wild recipes, were rather long, multi-layered, inventions, only she could come up with, that would propel an ordinary recipie, into something, spectacular, out of this world. My sisters would all stand around in amazement, as my Mom, could catch each of them, on the verge of messing up a step, quickly stepping in, and making things just right...
And then came the turkey...I always felt bad for the big, 22 pound, pinkish Turkey, all aglow, after someone had washed it down, after it thawed out under the running water in the kitchen sink, then someone would pull out all of the innards...At that moment, you kinda realized, you were eating something that was alive, just a few weeks ago...My Mom would rub lard all over it...so that the skin would become a crisp, orange hue, as it roasted in the oven, for 3 or 4 hours, the next day...We'd throw the bird back onto the top shelf of the refrigerator, late around midnight, having finally accomplished almost 90% of the LIST at that point...
It was such a sense of overwhelmingness, that all you could do is collapse on a yellow chair in the kitchen, at that point and draw a huge sigh of relief...Off to bedtime, because the big day was only a few hours away from hitting the final phase of preperations...Where was my Dad while all this was going on...Well, he was usually the one, who carried in the huge bird and of course, he got to unleash his carving skills on the Sunbeam electric carving knife...just minutes away, from the actual meal...It really was my Mom's big holiday to shine, so he stepped out of her way...
I can remember laying out some layers of newspapers, out on the floor in the basement and peeling a huge bunch of white Idaho potatoes, as I watched the Macy's Parade...I remember I'd have to switch over every 10 minutes to CBS, to check if it was the segment of the live Thanksgiving Parade from Honolulu, Hawaii...At that point, my Mom would scurry down to watch the 10 minute segment, as the floats gently preceeded along amidst palm trees swaying and hula girls, all about...It was kinda ironic to us, that these Hawaiians could actually be celebrating a Thanksgiving feast without the cold & the snow...like we had, outside our house, in Chicago...Sort of freaky, for us...I must admit...
Another delightful dish made at the last moment was my Mom's super-duper cranberry relish. It basically was Ocean Spray whole berry relish...then my Mom would add freshly squeezed orange pulp, a little lemon juice, and a bunch of finely chopped Washington MacIntosh apples...Wow...it all just came together and was totally awesome...All of my Mom's little funky recipes were just so good and we just were so psyched because we knew we only had one moment to get a chance at enjoying these delightful dishes, only this once, this special time of year...
Then the people would come...and come and come...filling up the whole house, top to bottom. There would be a big contingent in the basement all about...even at the bar...which we never used except for maybe, Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays...I can remember my brother Joe whipping up some Tequila Sunrises, a new Tequila and orange juice and grenadine concoction, with some crushed ice, added out of our new, funky little olive green, ice crusher, to boot...Another, hip 70's drink was Harvey Wallbangers which I think had a little bit of this Italian liquor called Galliano...Of course, I'd be amazed at my brother's agility to whip up all these drinks to perfection, but he was damn good ...The bar was in full gear as my brother-in-laws and brothers all would talk about just about everything, patiently waiting for the call upstairs to the dining room...
Then there were all the kiddies...Gosh, just a flood of kids, jumping all about, down in the basement, chasing deliriously after each other...some of them falling down hard, crying, then jumping back up, and running away, forgetting what happened because there was just pure chaos with so many little ones, all in a frenzy...There was Maureen's kids...Charlie, Michelle, Thomas & Patrick...my sister Kathy's kids...Eddie, Mike and Pat...my sister Patsy's kids...Colleen, Carrie and Kate...my sister Joan's kids...Bridget & Johnny...my sister Karen's kids...Pete, Jimmy & Katie...my brother Joe's kids...Joey, Kevin and Sean...Me & my brother Danny were still teenagers at the time, but as you could see...the house was a rockin', don't bother knockin'...
Finally the moment would arrive, my Dad had been summoned to carve up the bird and we all kind of slowly streamed up to the dining room, one by one...almost all of us drooling with delight. After all, as good as some other Thanksgiving's go...my Mom put on a show-stopping event with every square inch of the dining room table meticulously displayed with her fine china and all the fixings of the meal, landing all about the table, hot, ready to be devoured...
It was a very transfixing moment as someone would say grace and then in only a matter of seconds, mayhem of people all grabbing at all the food...loading up their plates, as high as they would go...My Mom's special Turkey gravy, poured over the mashed potatoes, was a big hit, as well as the bird, which usually was quite hot, moist & juicy...The cranberries also were a big hit that people always seemed to forget about until half-way thru their meal because there was so much...But the sure-fire hit was my Mom's unique, tantalizing, stuffing...there just was never enough...it was a hot commodity that went fast...You had to get ahold of that stuffing bowl and just pile it onto your plate, never looking back, at all the ungodly amount of food you were about to be stuffing into your belly...
As the meal winded down...some of the kids would wander up from the basement, down where all kinds of card tables were flung together for the kiddie feast...They all were pretty oblivious to the special food prepared that day...They were just panting and panting away, trying to get their second wind, before resuming their onslaught of terror...only seconds away...
The times, themselves, just pure magic...All these people were in their prime, for the most part, and the unique gathering bestowed us all with some wonderful memories of unforgettable food and unforgettable fun...all clinging magically together...on 2724 W. 86th Street...almost 20-30 some years ago...
Hats off, especially to my Mom, who never took a bow...never took a break...never really thought about anything but throwing the best darn Thanksgiving feast, she possibly could imagine...It was year in, year out, like clock work, every single year...Just suddenly here...then suddenly gone...Just a blip of time that seemed to fly by...way, way, way too quickly...
But I do remember those times rather vividly...and rather thankfully...because they were some of the best times...anybody could possibly have...
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE...
...(especially to my dear Mom & Dad)...
When I think of Thanksgiving, I especially think of my Mom...Sure, this was her sure-fire way to kick it up a notch in the kitchen...but she always, always managed to throw together such a vast array of hidden little talents...into action...starting around mid-November...
See, my Mom, Frances, was notorious for making up a knock-down, drag-em-out, your-not-going-anywhere-til-you-get-this-done, Things-To-Do-List, that had to be reckoned with, before even thinking of throwing the bird in the oven...Just think of it as a Spring clean-up, meets odd jobs only a dispicable mind could conceive, with the additional measure of whipping up a collosoll feast, for a huge, huge crowd of at least 35-40 people, year in and year out...
It was the time of the year, where she hauled out the good china, where she got somebody to polish the silverware, and made every square inch of the house, sparkle and shine, in a radiant glow...Well, maybe that radiant glow came in after we sprayed some funky stuff on the dining room chandelier, that made it glisten, in a transluscent rainbow of colors...
That damn list had to be 6 pages long and some of the things on the list, even were written in my Mom's shorthand, a bunch of un-readable Chinese scribble that held some secretive matter, no one except my Mom could take on...You are getting it right, a downright, unfathomable, set of tasks, just for this single holiday...a list that seemed endless to us kids, holding our breath. as my Mom would rattle off a chore, and all of us ducking, to avoid, one of the more dubious tasks...
But eventually, one by one, my Mom would cross another thing off that list, and the 6 page list, became the 3 page list, then dwindling down to 1 page...And as we hit that last page, my Mom and sisters would hit high gear, in the kitchen, making up cherished holiday goodies, which were way beyond, mouth-watering...My Mom loved to dazzle everyone with her infinite knowledge of every single recipe...whether it was the special toll house chocolate chip cookies, or her complex stuffing recipe...the intricate madness of bammm!!!...going from one dish to another, so quickly, so effortlessly, was mind-boggling...
I'll just throw this out there as I remember it...My Mom's famous stuffing recipie...First, you poured out, about 6 packages of Brownberry bread crumbs, into 2 very large pans, next she would pour on the crumbs, a good measure of College Inn Chicken Broth...followed by some melted butter...Then we had to chop into tiny little specs, about 3 cups of white onions and about 3-4 cups of very fresh, very crisp, celery...Then with her own hands, my Mom would knead this concoction. mashing it all together, all the time, generating a rather sweet, pungent smell, of all of the ingredients combined...Finally, my Mom would dash a bunch of fresh crushed sage leaves, thyme, and a little poultry seasoning, all about...The stuffing, then, was good-to-go...Of course, it smelled so irresistable, even in its raw form, that everyone tried to grab a handful...My Mom, would have to slap our hands away from the stuffing pan because once you had a little, you wanted to have alot.
And all the wild recipes, were rather long, multi-layered, inventions, only she could come up with, that would propel an ordinary recipie, into something, spectacular, out of this world. My sisters would all stand around in amazement, as my Mom, could catch each of them, on the verge of messing up a step, quickly stepping in, and making things just right...
And then came the turkey...I always felt bad for the big, 22 pound, pinkish Turkey, all aglow, after someone had washed it down, after it thawed out under the running water in the kitchen sink, then someone would pull out all of the innards...At that moment, you kinda realized, you were eating something that was alive, just a few weeks ago...My Mom would rub lard all over it...so that the skin would become a crisp, orange hue, as it roasted in the oven, for 3 or 4 hours, the next day...We'd throw the bird back onto the top shelf of the refrigerator, late around midnight, having finally accomplished almost 90% of the LIST at that point...
It was such a sense of overwhelmingness, that all you could do is collapse on a yellow chair in the kitchen, at that point and draw a huge sigh of relief...Off to bedtime, because the big day was only a few hours away from hitting the final phase of preperations...Where was my Dad while all this was going on...Well, he was usually the one, who carried in the huge bird and of course, he got to unleash his carving skills on the Sunbeam electric carving knife...just minutes away, from the actual meal...It really was my Mom's big holiday to shine, so he stepped out of her way...
I can remember laying out some layers of newspapers, out on the floor in the basement and peeling a huge bunch of white Idaho potatoes, as I watched the Macy's Parade...I remember I'd have to switch over every 10 minutes to CBS, to check if it was the segment of the live Thanksgiving Parade from Honolulu, Hawaii...At that point, my Mom would scurry down to watch the 10 minute segment, as the floats gently preceeded along amidst palm trees swaying and hula girls, all about...It was kinda ironic to us, that these Hawaiians could actually be celebrating a Thanksgiving feast without the cold & the snow...like we had, outside our house, in Chicago...Sort of freaky, for us...I must admit...
Another delightful dish made at the last moment was my Mom's super-duper cranberry relish. It basically was Ocean Spray whole berry relish...then my Mom would add freshly squeezed orange pulp, a little lemon juice, and a bunch of finely chopped Washington MacIntosh apples...Wow...it all just came together and was totally awesome...All of my Mom's little funky recipes were just so good and we just were so psyched because we knew we only had one moment to get a chance at enjoying these delightful dishes, only this once, this special time of year...
Then the people would come...and come and come...filling up the whole house, top to bottom. There would be a big contingent in the basement all about...even at the bar...which we never used except for maybe, Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays...I can remember my brother Joe whipping up some Tequila Sunrises, a new Tequila and orange juice and grenadine concoction, with some crushed ice, added out of our new, funky little olive green, ice crusher, to boot...Another, hip 70's drink was Harvey Wallbangers which I think had a little bit of this Italian liquor called Galliano...Of course, I'd be amazed at my brother's agility to whip up all these drinks to perfection, but he was damn good ...The bar was in full gear as my brother-in-laws and brothers all would talk about just about everything, patiently waiting for the call upstairs to the dining room...
Then there were all the kiddies...Gosh, just a flood of kids, jumping all about, down in the basement, chasing deliriously after each other...some of them falling down hard, crying, then jumping back up, and running away, forgetting what happened because there was just pure chaos with so many little ones, all in a frenzy...There was Maureen's kids...Charlie, Michelle, Thomas & Patrick...my sister Kathy's kids...Eddie, Mike and Pat...my sister Patsy's kids...Colleen, Carrie and Kate...my sister Joan's kids...Bridget & Johnny...my sister Karen's kids...Pete, Jimmy & Katie...my brother Joe's kids...Joey, Kevin and Sean...Me & my brother Danny were still teenagers at the time, but as you could see...the house was a rockin', don't bother knockin'...
Finally the moment would arrive, my Dad had been summoned to carve up the bird and we all kind of slowly streamed up to the dining room, one by one...almost all of us drooling with delight. After all, as good as some other Thanksgiving's go...my Mom put on a show-stopping event with every square inch of the dining room table meticulously displayed with her fine china and all the fixings of the meal, landing all about the table, hot, ready to be devoured...
It was a very transfixing moment as someone would say grace and then in only a matter of seconds, mayhem of people all grabbing at all the food...loading up their plates, as high as they would go...My Mom's special Turkey gravy, poured over the mashed potatoes, was a big hit, as well as the bird, which usually was quite hot, moist & juicy...The cranberries also were a big hit that people always seemed to forget about until half-way thru their meal because there was so much...But the sure-fire hit was my Mom's unique, tantalizing, stuffing...there just was never enough...it was a hot commodity that went fast...You had to get ahold of that stuffing bowl and just pile it onto your plate, never looking back, at all the ungodly amount of food you were about to be stuffing into your belly...
As the meal winded down...some of the kids would wander up from the basement, down where all kinds of card tables were flung together for the kiddie feast...They all were pretty oblivious to the special food prepared that day...They were just panting and panting away, trying to get their second wind, before resuming their onslaught of terror...only seconds away...
The times, themselves, just pure magic...All these people were in their prime, for the most part, and the unique gathering bestowed us all with some wonderful memories of unforgettable food and unforgettable fun...all clinging magically together...on 2724 W. 86th Street...almost 20-30 some years ago...
Hats off, especially to my Mom, who never took a bow...never took a break...never really thought about anything but throwing the best darn Thanksgiving feast, she possibly could imagine...It was year in, year out, like clock work, every single year...Just suddenly here...then suddenly gone...Just a blip of time that seemed to fly by...way, way, way too quickly...
But I do remember those times rather vividly...and rather thankfully...because they were some of the best times...anybody could possibly have...
HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE...
...(especially to my dear Mom & Dad)...
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