Christmas Past: My friend Theresa & me, 1986

I know I just posted a new blog yesterday, but can I share this anyway?  Today an old friend (Theresa, pictured above) sent me this photo and wished me Merry Christmas, and it really took me by surprise.  I haven't seen this (or her) in many, many years.  And as close as we once were, we only talk now every couple years.

This is when we both worked for Ames, shortly after they bought out Murphy's Mart.  This was taken right after attending a Christmas party where I suspect we had a drink or two.  Um... I wouldn't mind a sip now!

I have to say, Theresa was a very good friend.  There was never any romantic interest, we were just good buddies.  I loved her parents Carl & Mary Lou.  They owned a video store (back before Blockbuster, when mom n' pop video stores were the norm) and we'd sit in the backroom of her parents business, eat microwave popcorn and watch the latest rentals.  When you earn $4.15 an hour, that's a fun night out!

It's hard to believe that the summer after this photo was taken, I got the opportunity to move to Pittsburgh and go back to school.  My first place in the city was a bit run down and Theresa's parents gave me a dozen or so movie posters to decorate the place.  

Theresa came up to visit me in the fall of '86, then we never saw each other in person again.

Anyway, I regret posting those last two selfies and would much rather see my old friend & younger self instead.   Thanks again for letting me share.

Merry Christmas, Everyone

Random thoughts about a random condition & Toni Tennille

This past Tuesday (2 days before Christmas) I thought I'd warm up some Sunday leftovers for an early dinner.  Cheesy rice, roasted broccoli and a piece of smoked sausage.   I'd been dealing with some orofacial pain earlier in the day, but it was more soreness than anything.

After heating it up and taking a bite, my eyes, face & mouth erupted in fire and pain.  I grabbed my drink, a glass of cranberry ginger ale I bought for the holidays and took a gulp, and immediately spat it back out.  It was like trying to swallow fruit-flavored battery acid.

I went into the other room, got my phone and took that first selfie above.  Just wanted you to see the inflammation that occurs, smolders an hour or two before dying back down to an achy soreness again (the second picture).

The irony of this is, when I first made that meal on Sunday I enjoyed it with a side of chopped tomatoes and sliced jalapenos.  They didn't bother me in the least.

I told my friend Diana later that night, it's irritating all the time, but the awful flareups are so darn random, it's impossible to make plans for anything.  I was so fortunate to go with my friends Mary & Evie to that Single Seniors Holiday Luncheon a couple weeks ago.  I was mostly okay that day; the day after I couldn't turn my head without pain.  It's just tiresome, maddening and all I can do right now is pray it eventually goes away.

As long as I'm on here, I thought I'd tell you about a celebrity autobiography I just finished and enjoyed greatly.  I have to be honest, the older I get the less I enjoy these types of books.  (I love Sally Field, but bought her autobiography a few years ago and was bored to tears.)  But one night last week I was watching a short clip of Toni Tennille being interviewed and she remarked she was turning 86 this May.  What!!  

Toni was born May 8, 1940.  She's exactly 3 months older than my mom, if she was still with us.

She was asked how her life's been after publishing her memoirs in 2016, and she said pretty much the same.  I went on Barnes & Noble to see about buying her ebook for my tablet, but had the sense to contact my local library first and see if they had a copy.  They sure did, both the physical book and ebook.  I was reading it in 10 minutes.

(In fact, when I finished it last night a little button popped up on the last page:  "Do you wish to return this ebook?"  I clicked on yes and that was that.  Gotta love technology.)

Anyway, it was less than 200 pages but a captivating read from start to finish.  Back when I was a teenager in the 1970s, I loved all the female artists--Linda Ronstadt, Roberta Flack, Helen Reddy, Karen Carpenter, those chicks from ABBA--but I carried a secret torch for a couple artists, Loretta Lynn and Toni Tennille.  (It's silly now, but at the time Loretta was more for 'older folk' and the Captain & Tennille were considered dorky.)  

In the book, Toni acknowledges this and says many in the entertainment industry rolled their eyes or ridiculed them behind their back.  She even includes a photo of her & Daryl winning Album of the Year in 1975 for "Love Will Keep Us Together" at the Grammys, and a smiling Stevie Wonder handing them their trophy--while a disgusted Joan Baez stands off to the side!  But Toni was proud of their corny image, neither of them smoked or drank or did drugs, which were industry standards then.  

The book paints a truly fascinating image of growing up in Montgomery Alabama in the 1940s-50s.  "Daddy didn't have a lot of money, but we still managed to have a black cook, black housekeeper and black nanny--most middle class white families in the South back then did."

Sadly, the book shares some VERY honest feelings about her 40 year marriage to Daryl Dragon.  She says he never once told her he loved her, he couldn't even hug her.  They lived in a succession of beautiful, oversized houses yet never shared the same bedroom.   She finally divorced him in 2014.

(The book was published before Daryl's death in 2019, he died of kidney failure.  The irony is, he spent his entire life eating only rice & vegetables; he was a strict vegetarian.)

Of course, most of the book is centered on their musical careers (and her solo career afterwards), their various television specials in the 1970s, how the recording industry was back then compared to today.  It really is a captivating read--I just love her.

And on that happy note, gosh I can't believe it's Christmas Eve.  Merry Christmas everyone.

I hope you get your snow: I didn't, but got something more

Roberta

I was sitting here on my couch the other night, and could hear my neighbor Dee faintly thru the wall behind me.  She's 70 years old, has an adult daughter and a 9-10 year old granddaughter.  Her granddaughter was telling Dee about her dad taking them to Seven Springs after Christmas.

For those who don't know, Seven Springs is a very popular ski resort approximately 60 miles east of Pittsburgh.

When they were saying goodbye in the hallway, Dee said "Goodbye honey.  I hope you get your snow."  I sat here thinking "Where have I heard that before?"  I knew someone said that to me once, who?  I went back to my book, then later that night after climbing into bed--pow.  I remembered.  

A long time ago in December 1973, I was 12 years old and in seventh grade at Jefferson Morgan Jr-Sr High School.  It was the last day of school before our holiday break, and we only had a half day.  

We were sitting in our homerooms waiting for the buses to arrive, and our 7th grade History (and homeroom) teacher Mr. Wettie Mancuso asked if anyone had any plans for the holidays.  I can't remember if the other kids shared anything, but I said my Grandma was coming to spend the night at our house Christmas Eve, and I was praying really hard for a blizzard so she'd be forced to stay a day or two longer like she did a couple years before.  

(We lived in an old farmhouse on a country road--back then, snow plows were hit or miss.  It could be a couple days before you saw one.)

Mr. Mancuso said "Who hopes Doug gets a blizzard?" and several kids hands shot up, and it was enormously gratifying.  In retrospect, I think every kid just wanted snow for Christmas.

Mr. Mancuso

Mr. Mancuso asked if anyone else wanted to share, and Roberta McCarty, a girl who sat one seat up from me in the next row said "I have a tumor in my head and they want to operate the week after Christmas."

The classroom got very quiet.  Mr. Mancuso said "Aw honey, that's too bad.  Who wants to pray for Berta?"  Everyone's hand went up, and I suddenly felt embarrassed and guilty for my prayer for a blizzard to snare Grandma.

I'll never forget this.  Roberta said "It doesn't matter if you pray.  I probably won't survive."  Mr. Mancuso said "Don't say that, you're going to be here a long time.  You'll see."

(Mr. Mancuso would retire the following year, and pass on 4 years later.)

The buses began pulling into the breezeway outside our windows and the final bell rang.  As we began filing out of the classroom, kids were saying goodbye to one another and to Roberta.  When I said goodbye to her I said good luck and hoped she'd have a nice Christmas.  Roberta said "You too, I hope you get your snow."

We didn't get any snow that Christmas, but a 3 day icy drizzle instead.  The local weatherman kept joking if it turned a couple degrees colder, we'd be knee-high in the white stuff.  Torture for a kid to hear.  But Grandma stayed with us an extra day anyway, and for me that was all the Christmas I really wanted.

Roberta didn't return to school after the holiday break.  I don't know when her operation took place but she passed in February, a couple months shy of her 13th birthday.  I often wondered if anyone in our class even remembered her, until our senior year when someone drew her likeness above for a Memorial page in our senior yearbook.

But I've thought about her off and on through the years, and how sad and grownup she seemed at that tender age of 12.  And of course, her very unselfish wish for me.  Roberta, I'll never forget you.