The Team

I miss the team. I have been a part of a few in my life, and I'm not talking about just sports. When I was a kid I was a part of a few. We had a CYO basketball team that had all of my friends on it. Friends that I still see occasionally to this day...that's another story for another day. I don't remember us being that good, I mean we didn't win a lot but I do remember the fun that we had even during practice. We all had our strengths and weaknesses...some could shoot, some could pass some did a little to much of one and not enough of the other. Me I did neither very well. I just ran up and down the court a lot. But it was fun.
I have been a part of other teams that include those at various jobs. I have had various businesses over the years and one of them include video taping weddings. (Some great stories there too.) I remember what I missed was the camaraderie that comes from going thru something together. I remember one of the first weddings that I did and during a break when everyone was having there meal I was wandering around the room and one of the waitresses asked if I wanted something to eat. Well I ended up alone at the end bar with the band and the photographer at the other end all of eating some cold leftovers before heading back to our different places on the  We even acknowledged each other...I felt alone. Of course I was the outsider and doing video taping was new thing way back then but I didn't even have an assistant or a drummer that I could swap stories with about a crying bride who just had a fight with her husband on the deck of this fancy restaurant because he spilled his beer on her mom.
I worked for almost 30 years at the State House and we worked some long hours in cold windowless room. Some days were better than others but some of the best were when we would laugh, cry or argue together. we were all different with jobs to do but when the cold pizza came at 3 am during a 16 hour day we went thru it together, a team, at least for a hours.
Now I work alone. I enjoy working with people but they are different people every day. I miss the team.     

Men,Men,Men...

I worked today on job site with Men. Real Men. Swearing, spitting ,farting, ......Men. Men who don't like Democrats, men who eat warm bologna sandwiches for lunch. Men who are sweating all over each other but don't say anything until some twit unplugs the power....oooppss!! Men who love God, country, family and football in that order.

Naahhh. I'm wrong these where ordinary guys not the neanderthals that I grew up with and I don't know any of them or what they believe. No stereotypes...they were respectful to each other...professional...just doing there job... Don't believe me???

I saw a beautiful woman walk thru the site with a high heels and a short skirt...and believe me NOBODY looked up...not whistles or catcalls.......

they were working

....(I wasn't so I did...sorry...look up I mean...not the other stuff )

These are people who don't sit behind a desk...they don't have the luxury of calling in sick..they are craftsman doing a job. Borrowing from each other...helping each other out ....

I only bring this up because I'm a man and I cant write from another prospective...I don't have the equipment.

Today is the anniversary of a day when all lot of people died.....  children, women and men.

I can only talk about what I know and I see. I see the same thing in these young guys on the job as I see in soldiers, husbands, fireman (that one is for you dad) and cops who sacrifice everyday...just doing their job... that is who we are.

A dad's football team

Supposedly the first words that I uttered as a baby where..."poopoo dame" ...which translated means "Notre Dame"...this is from my mother not my father who to him Notre Dame football was like air,  he needed it to live.

We were driving one Saturday afternoon in dad's prize possession, his 1949 Chevy fastback with skirts covering the rear wheels. It had its own garage when the rest of us lived in third floor apartment three blocks away. Where, as usual ,there was only one thing on the radio and from what I could understand from the back seat it wasn't good news. Suddenly the car would stop and my father would get out and begin cursing the football gods because the Notre Dame Fighting Irish didn't make a first down. They could be winning by the score of 96 to 0 but my dad would scream about some play during which he thought they should have scored their 100 point. He never as much enjoyed the games as he did endure them.

Well now it's almost fifty years later and I'm in his apartment trying to enjoy some time with my dad.

Bonding time, two guys having beer enjoying their favorite team. We they didn't make a first down or something again and off he would go..."they stink,,they are all bums..etc".... ahhh!!

Well I watch the games now by myself. I try remember the times when we came from behind and won a game and I actually saw my dad smile. It might of been because at the time I was jumping up and down more than the winning score but it was a smile. I know he enjoyed the time together it was that damm football team that would cause all the aggravation in his life...well that and Democrats and  woman's lib and anything post World War II ...and well...at least during football season I was there with him once in awhile to explain the a forty point Notre Dame win was good and that he probably would never live to see Hilary as President so he could stop worrying about it and try endure the game

Moving...again

Moving...no I'm not going anywhere but my daughter is, she heading to a new apartment and back to school. I've done this so many times in the last few years, (three apartments and three dorms), that I sometimes feel like a Sherpa guide ascending Mount Everest as I drag endless boxes of "essentials" like multiple pairs of shoes to the third floor of another elevator deprived building. My back aches just thinking about the next move to come, the day after Labor Day. I see the tired faces of other parents like me as we endlessly weave thru the streets of Boston looking for that elusive parking spot only five blocks from the apartment.
Everything that she owns or cares about this week is on the floor of our house. Piles of clothes, a new bed and that dammm "small" refrigerator, mocking me as it sits there in the middle of the room waiting to be hauled the stairs for the millionth time. We are getting organized for the trek. I found a van to rent and I mentally packed it several times. Each time that I think that I'm all set somebody says..." Oh by the way we are taking the ..(whatever)..and I have reevaluate my plan. I need a plan, somewhere to start, something that I know will change at a moments notice, but I at least need some place to start the chaos.
So let the games begin....I know that once we get moved in the next phase will begin. We will have by new stuff that replaces what either cant be found from the last move or got broke during the latest one. But that is another story for another blog. Stay tuned
  

41 and counting

It was 41 years ago today. I was working behind the counter at the family business. Everyday felt like a doing time in some sort of retail prison. But this day would be different . I would wait on the most important customer that we would ever have. It was also the day the I met the person who would save my life,  my wife
When we met I had no idea that I would be sitting here writing this many years later. It wasn't love at first sight for me and I KNOW that it wasn't for her. But I can remember when it did become love. I had never had that feeling before or after. I woke up one day and she was all that I could think about. Now I know that I can be a bit obsessive but this was ridiculous. I couldn't think of anything else and for me that was it.  I "courted" her for 10 years before we got married. Ten years to the day from when we met. I know a long time? We didn't want to rush into anything but the timing was perfect.
We have had some great times and some that weren't so great. The details don't matter here. But we kept going or should I say she let me hang around. I don't have the secret to success and I don't give advice on the subject. Sometimes I really wonder how we made it this far. But I do know one thing.
I wouldn't be who I am with out her and I will never love anybody else.

Thank You... Joann ....I love you.

I'm sick. I have things to do places to go like everyone else today nothing is getting done because I'm sick. I know nobody wants to hear about person being sick and Nobody wants to be near a person who is sick but I had a blog to write and this was the only subject that I come up with right now. So forgive me if I'm boring you but I as I said ....i'm sick today. It's not the " I wish that I was dead kinda sick" , that was night and I will spare you the details. It is the day after when you get up feeling better but after you do few things you feel like...your sick again. I'm not very patient when I'm sick. my mind says go but the body says no. So it's a gorgeous day, a day perfect for doing anything, and I'm gonna spend it being sick...arghhh

I like gadgets, iPhones, iPads, etc . I don't have the newest, in fact I buy most of my the stuff on ebay just as the latest and greatest is hitting the market. I do still have a turntable ,a cassette player and a VHS recorder. I also am watching a tv that...(wait for it..)....has a picture tube. it was my fathers and when he bought it about 12 years ago it was the biggest baddest Sony on the market now its just a big heavy blueish night light that is on in front of me as i scan thru Netflix on my iPad.

Not all of the gadgets that I  have are digital or high tech. One of my favorite items is something that I carry everyday. It is the most important piece of equipment in the famous fighting Swiss Army. Yea its their knife. I have several of them. One in my car, one for everyday and church and the big one with everything including a toothpick for when I am fixing something and wearing a tool belt. So when something new hits the market...( the wrist watch iPhone..)... I will read all about it but I think that I will wait until it gets old before I buy one.

I wonder. I wonder why we have name buildings, bridges, airports and intersections after people. Do we all want to live forever? To never be forgotten? I don't have any answers today just questions. When I worked at the State House they would do endless hours of debate on the merits of naming a bridge or building after some public servant who had died. Now some people where quite admirable and their accomplishments were towards helping the common good. But I often wondered if in 100 years anybody would care or remember those accomplishments when they were standing in line a Joe Blow's DMV building, named in his honor. Now I read the plaques in the hallways of hospitals It usually helps take my mind off why I'm there. I read some of the bricks paid for by donations in somebody's name at the local playgrounds and public gardens. I read the plaques on the park benches and I especially read anything dedicated to a veteran.
I remember a local intersection near the street where I grew up. I was place that I would pass thru on my way to nearly every school that I went to in my youth. I remember growing up hanging around as a young teen on wall across from that intersection. Spending endless hours swapping stories with my friends, playing football in the nearby field or just plan goofing off. We were young not able to drive but there was somebody who lived nearby who did have his license. He was a bit older than the rest of my friends but he was one of the coolest guys around. He had a car ... a bad ass muscle car. It was a 60's Chevy that was not street legal and ran on something other than gasoline. The license plate read "Nitro"  and you could hear it for miles around when he would take the occasional ride around the neighborhood before being chased home by the cops. He was a legend to us. He died in Vietnam. The first one that I knew about in the our neighborhood .He name is on a plaque at the earlier mentioned intersection. So every plague has a history and maybe it is worth it sometimes to look at the story behind it.    

I like Old

I enjoy things that are old. Things that have been used and cared for and still work. There is nothing wrong with new and shinny but I will take experience and proven any day. Something with creases and wrinkles like an old baseball glove that fits just right. Something that has been used and abused but is still there when you need it. Today it seems nothing is made to last. We throw things away because they aren't made to last. Things used to get fixed instead of getting thrown out for something new. Oh well...  maybe it is because I'm old and wrinkled I feel like things more resemble myself.  I understand that the economy works better when people are buying things, even things that they might not need. I am guilty of it myself with my weekly coupon trips to Job Lot for endless lengths of rope for tying down who knows what to some sort of stationary that I can't live without.  Would I die if I skipped a week with out buying batteries that are made in Korea and are to small to be AA and not quite AAA...(what are they??? and what do the fit ???...who knows but I got them)...I would live for another week. I still have tools that my father used...saws that are still sharp and hammers that still hammer. They all still work. I just hate waste...I hate things that I buy that don't work...but that is another blog for another day....now .....stop wasting your time on the computer.....stop reading this stupid blog......... go to the beach....its summer !!!!!.

Do we want to talk about hot? Everybody else is. I'm hot,your hot, all God's children are hot.
I'm trying to keep my blog topical and timely, plus I'm hot and I cant think of anything to write about. I'm working outside in the yard ,sweating. I don't complain about the heat because for me I would rather have it than freezing cold. THIS IS BORING!!!!.... I quit....I'm gonna work a little more then go for a swim...see you next week...I promise it will be better... 

This Old House

This Old House

I'm measuring for the third time. It happens a lot at my house. Nothing is straight and nothing is level. These are just some of the issues that you have to deal with living in a 250+ year old house.
I've learned that you make things fit and make them look good to YOU. I have had contractors, carpenters, friends, fishermen and felons all tell me what and how I should fix my house. But heh I finally said " I have to live here" so it is gonna be my way. I don't care about the next guy. He will probably say what I have said many times during my "upgrades"...."What the hell was that guy thinking when he built this?" Well I've built decks, patios, installed wood floors ,back splashes and once spent an afternoon with a stuck jack hammer wedged into an old set of cement front steps. Ive broken ribs, and fingers and had more stitches and cuts than I can count but heh its what they call "sweat equity"... and I kind of enjoy the process more than the finish project ,even if it is crocked.
I'm reading a book that describes the how Thomas Jefferson built his home, Monticello.
He lived to be 83 years old but never saw the house finished. He had some measurements figured down the millionth of an inch ( something that was unmeasurable at the time) He was ahead of his time with his use of some many skylights yet built staircases so steep that they were barely more than ladders. He lived in his unfinished house for over 40 years, taking so long to complete it that as some parts were finished others where rotting away because of lack of maintenance.
Now I'm no Jefferson and my unfinished house will probably remain that way as long as I live here and I will get frustrated some days when I look at half finished kitchen floor but it could be worse....I could be living in a condo somewhere with nosey neighbors and nothing to do but watch the grounds keeper cut the grass to short..
In this house I will always have something to do and if I ever finish you can have it.  

 

 

 

4th of July ...Booooomm !!!

When I was a kid I hated fireworks. The sound got to me. It made me nervous when ever we would get in our beachwagon and head out to Roger Williams park, along with every other Rhode Islander and sit on a dark hillside and wait for a loud boom every five minutes along with some light in the sky. I remember mosquito bites and sitting in the car for hours when we left as my father cursed under his breath that he would never return to this place again even if they blew the whole place up and it was burning to the ground. That never made sense to me because it was a park not a building and he was after all a fireman wouldn't it be his job to put out the fire? I always tried to make sense of everything. I was way to literal. I remember once a I heard a friend say to another friend that he would never again talk to him again ,as long as he lived. What was he gonna do.... wait until he was dead then talk to him?  It was recess at grammar school, dares and threats are what boys did back then at recess. Hmmm now my nine year old mind would try to calculate if that threat was really possible since they were brothers and were fighting constantly. As I sat at my desk behind the two brothers after recess taking a geography test I hadn't studied for and still wondering if a lifetime of silence between the two brothers was possible I heard the teacher bellow..."If you two are talking and passing answers again I'll give you both zero's"

Of course they were and..... she did. I made me feel good that in life there are still some constants. People say things that they really don't mean and a nun really will give you a zero on a test.

Oh yea this was suppose to be about fireworks...oh well....Hope you had a Happy Fourth of July!!   

I love to watch

I'm in the parking lot at the mall. My daughter is inside shopping with a friend and I had no interest in galloping after them as the scampered from one shoe store to the next so I decided to stay in the car and catch up on my favorite viewing hobby.... Watching people. It is better than watching tv and people in parking lots is the best. They way they park, what they wear ,and what they say to each other.
First there is the old man having trouble parking his Camry between the lines and not on them. He needs two spots or help from one of those guys at the airport with a light in his hand guiding a plane to the gate. He gets out slowly and dents the car next to him with his door as he proceeds to open the back door of his car and out jumps a five year old boy who takes his grandpa's hand for what he hopes will be a fun day at the mall. Next came the two " older " woman dressed as teenagers in tight jeans and high heels probably on the hunt for some bargains followed by a gaggle of preteens who look they have just been let out school and were told that there were free phones inside the mall. they sprinted between cars giggling all the way. And last but certainly not least was the staple of every mall everywhere. Something that make malls the distinctive place that they have become. The herd of baggy ,dropping ,underwear showing pants, baseball sideways hat wearing , future of America, young men. Thousands of them parking low riding, loud mufflered, 95 Honda Civics.
I'm ready to leave when out comes the old man now almost dragging his crying grandson back to the car. Sometimes not all dreams come true at the mall.
As we leave the parking lot I wonder what somebody else sitting there car would think of a 60 something wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt as he limps thru the parking lot with dread on his face as he enters the mall. I guess everybody is somebody else's entertainment.

Steveisover60: I'm HungryIt's dark outside and for me it is the...

Steveisover60: I'm Hungry

It's dark outside and for me it is the...: I'm Hungry It's dark outside and for me it is the end of the day and that means I'm hungry. When I eat it is never a lot all a...

I'm Hungry

It's dark outside and for me it is the end of the day and that means I'm hungry. When I eat it is never a lot all at once but sometimes in the evening I never stop. There is always room for a peanut butter sandwich before bed. I try not to eat junk...more popcorn and a couple of bowls of Cheerios after dinner are always good but if I see three or four ice cream sandwiches in the freezer they are goneeee!! I live with somebody who doesn't like the smell of food after sundown. I wonder if that is a religious thing??? So I try to wait until she is asleep before I really gorge myself but the munching and chomping sometimes wake her up and that ain't good. She deserves a night of rest free from the smells and sounds of the deli that I have working downstairs.
I cant eat much in the morning. I see people stuffing themselves with Egg McMuffin's or Allies Donuts and I wonder how they make it too work. My stomach doesn't wake up until around 10am and that is when I'm working and get up at 6am. I usually carry an energy bar and that's it a long with plenty of ice tea or lemonade. But when I get home look out. Pasta, turkey burgers, lasagna,  what ever my lovely wife whips up...I eat...( yea she is the chef).
I don't think that I'm getting fat...( who cares anyway...at this point I ain't winning no beauty contests at the beach). I just get hungry at night so I eat. So if you drive by the house and the light is on at 12am that is probably the fridge with my head in it looking for some of that delicious left over lasagna.

Steveisover60: Two for OneToday my dear blog readers we have a ...

Steveisover60: Two for One

Today my dear blog readers we have a ...: Two for One Today my dear blog readers we have a double header....two blogs for price of one...how lucky can you get?....I know ....blah.....

Two for One

Today my dear blog readers we have a double header....two blogs for price of one...how lucky can you get?....I know ....blah...blah, blah...who cares??.....get on with it ...)

Red Solo Cup

I have a tendency if you have read past blogs to save cups from Dave's Market, Dunking Donuts, etc and reuse them. Well I recently started using the same Red Solo Cup  for several days in a row. I know that they are suppose to be disposable...one use and gone...but I hate throwing things away... Why don't I use say a container
that is made to be reusable and can be washed and used again and again inside and out? Good question...I got no answer right now...check with me later. Right now I'm attempting to see how long this particular cup will last ....it has been three days so far...all kinds of liquids,lemonade,ice tea,milk...etc  I rinse it out and the next beverage goes in. Nothing hot..coffee for instance..will melt it...I think. I just use it for every thing that I am drinking and see how long it lasts...stay tuned


A New Old Tradition

I have decided to resurrect a old habit. I was in line this morning at Walmart and an elderly woman in front of me was struggling with her purse looking for money to pay for her groceries. I could tell she was nervous because she thought that she was holding up the line. I had my money out and decided to ask her if I could help her out by paying the extra couple of dollars due on her receipt. She thanked me and offered to pay me back once we got out of line. I told her she didn't have to, she thanked me and we were both on our way.
To me this was no more a common courtesy than holding a door open for somebody or letting the next driver go in front of you at a busy intersection. Call it being polite,courteous or whatever it reminded me of a habit that I use to have when I worked in Providence everyday. I use to by donuts every once in while for everyone at work and one day I decided, while at the drive-thru, to pay for the person in line behind me. The cashier would shrug with a quizzical look and let me know the amount I had to pay. I would wait and look in the mirror sometimes to see the reaction as they drove up and got their coffee for free. It was fun as I would get waves, or beeps from the thankful drivers. One time I was in my office and somebody who worked in another place in the building, somebody that I didn't know, came by to thank me because they had been behind me that morning as paid for their morning java. I haven't done it much since I retired but I may start again. So if you pull up to the drive thru and the coffee is free just give a beep and wave....Hi Ho Silver..Awayyy!!!        

I'm bored.

I don't remember the last time I said or even thought it. I think I was 17 and working the grave yard shift at a Hasbro factory in Pawtucket making Mister Potato Heads. It was the summer and after meeting with friends during our 3am break we decided the or futures didn't include the Hasbro assembly line, it might be more fun to head to the beach for an early beer when we were done at 5am. So ended my last day of boredom. Since then I have found things to fill my time. Sometimes it may seem like I do to many things. Let's see....right now I'm reading two books, working one job or two driving people around, filming a documentary, writing a blog,painting the house, learning the harmonica, guitar and bagpipes. Refinishing the kitchen floors, painting (something always needs painting in a 200 year old house), writing a book, walking the dogs, (ok I'm not gonna list the things I do everyday), brewing beer, painting, grilling the perfect pizza, learning to swim ,play poker,chess and try sign language.

In my spare time I use an iPad ,Iphone, laptop and tv all at the same time.

I love my my wife, my daughter and my life and don't think I will ever be bored again.

Heh day off tomorrow....mmmmm..........I was thinking of teaching myself how to cook...

The sky is the bluest of blues. It's a warm Monday in May and I'm off to work. Today the streets are quiet, void of the usual traffic. It's Memorial Day, usually a day off for me. A day to watch the parade of veterans, politicians and local school bands struggle to finish a parade ending with long walk up the small hill in front of our house. It is the first parade that I will miss since we moved to our house almost thirty years ago.

I get to work early as usual and on the porch of senior center is one of the guys I have gotten to know a bit in my short time there. He is dressed impeccable as usual. Every time that I see him his clothes are pressed his tie is straight his eyes are bright and he has a spring in his step. He has the firm hand shake of a military man who was once in command of others. Today is no different except for the flag on the tie he is wearing and the gaze past me down the driveway as he acknowledges my presence. "Good morning, where are you headed?" I ask. He tells me that he is the Grand Marshall of a local town parade. They asked if he could wear something "official" like a "uniform or sash", he says. He bristles at the thought and tells me something that I have heard before from those of his generation who have served our country. He tells me that he doesn't like to go into what happened to him or what he saw and did during the war. I never press for details even though I am curious. He does have an easy way about him but what I think about the most is what he says about those that he served with. He tells me he never wanted to get to close to his comrades during the heat of battle because they would be side by side with him one day and dead the next. But he thinks of them now. He tells me that he isn't a hero since he survived but those who didn't are the true heroes and he misses them everyday.

His ride arrives and he gives me a salute as he leaves. I awkwardly say "thank you for your service" and his answer is as simple and straight forward as he is " Your welcome"

Well I'm off to work but first I have to check a few things. Do I have a matching pair of socks on, did I remember to shave? (I dress in the dark and half asleep) I used to wear a tie to work and they were of many colors and designs. One more outlandish than the next.
Well I guess they should match something else your wearing. Some kind of fashion law. Somebody, usually my wife, would check to see what pants and shirt I was wearing and suggest a tie. Occasionally there would be a dispute between my daughter and my wife as to which tie worked the best. I would stand there helplessly hoping that the dispute would come to agreed upon conclusion or I would be forced to pick a tie myself. This might result in me leaving the house looking like Bozo the clown. (Some thought I had succeeded ..the ties are colorful)
I would always get many compliments or at least a comment on those ties...colorful some days and other days something that was appropriate for the approaching holiday or an event that was personal to me.
It was my way of saying that if I had to dress for work in an professional attire I could at least have something that was "me".
I look at them now hanging there, a symbol of days gone by, probably never be used again. Oh well ... time marches on...heh wait I do a collection of odd tee shirts and hats and nobody is around to tell me what to wear...mmmmm.....just don't laugh out loud if you see me at Walmart