Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Let it be known I love Christmas.  I am like a big kid over the Christmas holidays.  Looking back on Christmas's past is something I do every year as I am decorating the house and putting up the Christmas trees.  Some of the memories are sweet and wonderful.  Others are sad and difficult.  But I cherish all of my Christmas memories and look forward to the new memories to be made each year.

The first Christmas I can remember was in 1955.  I was three years old.  It's one of my earliest childhood memories.  I don't remember a lot about that Christmas now almost sixty years later of course, but I do remember the present I received that year.  We lived in a little three room house on Otsego Street in Havre de Grace, Maryland.


The house still stands and is still occupied today.  I had my daughter take a photo of me by the house this year on my birthday.  I remember the dalmatian dog that was my first pet when we lived in this house.  I can remember the kitchen of the house and how it looked.  I don't remember much of anything else about the house.  But I do have my first Christmas memory.  I received a play set of pots and pans for Christmas.  I am not sure why my parents bought me pots and pans.  Maybe I played with my mother's pot and pans in the kitchen.  Maybe I asked for them.   I don't know.  But I do know my parents did not buy me any toy guns that year, or toy trucks, or plastic cowboys and Indians.  They had Santa bring me pots and pans.  I can remember the box they came in and how excited I was opening the box on Christmas morning.  Or was it really Christmas morning?  This first wonderful Christmas memory of mine was not the best Christmas for my parents.  My father's mother died from uterine cancer on Christmas Eve this same year.  So I am somewhat sure that if I did actually open up the box of pots and pans on Christmas morning my father was not there to see me open the gift.  Most likely they celebrated Christmas morning with me a few days after Christmas, or perhaps a few days before if they knew my grandmothers death was near.

I don't remember anything about my grandmother's death or funeral.  At the age of three I am sure my parent's protected me from seeing the sorrow and the grief they were going through.  But they must have made that Christmas special for me any way because I  still remember the gift and the joy I had opening it that Christmas morning.

One of my least favorite Christmas memories is the Christmas the year my ex wife and I were in the midst of divorcing.  We were still living in our house but we were not living together.  We lived in separate rooms and led separate lives.  But when you have small children you still have to put on a happy face especially on Christmas morning.  I remember not wanting to exchange gifts with my ex wife that year because it all would have been a lie.  I talked to my mother about it and how difficult it was trying to put on a show for Christmas.  She told me there were many years when she and my father had put on shows for Christmas for my sister and I even when their hearts were not in it.  She never went into specifics or shared any stories of individual bad Christmas's for them.  But she did ask me if I remembered any childhood Christmas's when we were not all happy.  And I did not.

To my knowledge my daughter never knew that would be our last Christmas together as a family.  I can remember watching them opening their gifts that year and laughing with them as they opened them.  And I can remember feeling like the worst parent in the world that year.  I remember holding back my tears and putting on a smile much the way my parents did that year my grandmother died on Christmas Eve.  But their smiles were worth the price.  They were happy that morning and have carried with them the memory of one last happy Christmas together with their parents.

We have had good and bad Christmas's since that Christmas.  Their mother and I have worked through our hurts and differences and are better friends now than when we were married.  They both have their own homes now and their own trees and are making their own memories each year.  And there is still something magical having them in my house on Christmas morning opening gifts, laughing and taking photos each year .   Christmas memories.  I would not trade one of them.





Friday, October 4, 2013

Everthing I need to know about Hawaii I learned from Elvis and Dennis the Menace

I am a child of the 1950's.   I was born in 1952.  There were only forty eight states in 1952.  I entered the first grade in September 1958 at the age of five.  I turned six three months later.   So in 1959 when I was in the second grade the addition of two new states was something exciting.  At the age of seven I became fascinated with our new fiftieth state.  I can remember going home from school all excited and asking my parents when we were going to be able to visit the new fiftieth state of Hawaii.  We  were a working class family.  My father was a heavy equipment operator and drove a tractor and trailer for the Department of Defense at Aberdeen Proving Ground.  We lived in a rented house in a small town in Maryland.  Hawaii was in a different world.  My sister was just born in 1959.  My father, who was taught by his mother to use a sewing machine, made my mother's maternity clothes for her.  Vacation meant driving down the street to Jeff Baldwin's boat dock and talking our little boat out to  the "flats" just off the city park in Havre de Grace, Maryland to go swimming on Saturday.  The closest I got to Hawaii was getting my parents to buy me the comic book Dennis In Hawaii - congratulation 50th State.

I must have read that comic over one hundred times.  Dennis and his family flew on Pan American Airlines to Hawaii.  Dennis yells to the taxi driver taking them to the airport "We're going to Honey Lulu".  This little boy wanted to go to Honey Lulu also.  Dennis got to go to "Wahoo".  He saw a heavy lady in a moo moo and asked his mother if moo moo was like in cow.   He went to Pearl Harbor, and even though he was too young to understand, he still got teary eyed at Pearl Harbor.  Dennis got to taste poi at a luau and thought it tasted like school paste.  Dennis even included a glossary of Hawaiian words for me to learn
Little did I realize at the young age of seven that fifty three years later I would finally get to visit Hawaii.  And I would not need Dennis' glossary of Hawaiian words because I would be spending my honeymoon on Honey Lulu with my husband who is a linguistics master.

Two years later, in 1961, the new state of Hawaii was still big news.  Hollywood was making movies about the new fiftieth state.  Surfing was becoming a new fascination.  Movies set on the beaches of Hawaii were very popular with the small town Saturday afternoon matinee kids.  And who else, but Elvis Presley, would capitalize on it it best. I still had my Dennis the Menace comic book, but now Elvis now brought Hawaii to life on the big screen.  I saw the movie Blue Hawaii at the State Theater in my little home town on a Saturday afternoon.  From the moment I saw the opening credits and the view of Diamond Head my fascination with Hawaii grew even stronger.



Now I just had to go to Hawaii.  Elvis was there.  He sang on the beach.  He surfed.  He rebelled against his parents.  He got married and sang the beautiful Hawaiian Wedding Song on a canal in Kauai.    I learned about luau's and what the words hooki lau meant.   What I did not learn from Dennis, I learned from Elvis.

Hawaii did not become a reality for me for many years.  My best friend from high school and I talked about going to Hawaii after we graduated.  I started to save some money for the trip.  World travel and tourism was still in it's infancy in 1971.  So the thought of going to o Hawaii was a real fantasy for us at the time.  In reality my best friend got married and I used my savings to go to college.  Hawaii remained in the world of Dennis the Menace comic books and Elvis Presley movies for me. 

I had two other opportunities to go to Hawaii over the years, but both times they did not happen.  One of the planned trips was going to allow me to stay at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel where Gidget and her family stayed when Gidget Goes Hawaiian.  But Hawaii was still a fantasy for me and continued beckoning me in the future.

Two years ago I started thinking about Hawaii again.  I had long lost my Dennis Goes to Hawaii comic book. With the technology of Ebay, I found an original copy of the comic book at a price much higher than the original twenty five cents.  But I wanted it.  When it arrived I was a kid again exploring Hawaii with Dennis and the Mitchell family.  The Elvis movie Blue Hawaii had been in my DVD collection for many years.  It still fascinated and inspired me, even with it's cheesy dialogue and plot.  I was getting older and knew I still wanted to see Hawaii but wanted to go before I was too old to enjoy it.  I wanted to go before I needed a cane or walker.  So sixty seem liked a good age to finally visit the island paradise.   

I was a little nervous about finally going to Hawaii.  I had such high expectations and was afraid I would be disappointed.  I love to travel, but I hate touristy places where nothing is authentic.  I love to meet locals, explore foreign cultures, and learn lots of history.  Hawaii was touristy.  Some places were not authentic.  But there was so much more to see and explore than I had expected.  When I returned home with over a thousand photos I was overwhelmed at what I had seen and learned.  When my daughter came to visit and to see my photos  I broke out the Dennis the Menace comic book and she was amazed that I had been able to recapture Dennis' trip.  I showed her where Dennis had visited and where I had visited.  Everything I had learned from Dennis was still there.  

Now as I am slowly labeling and organizing my photos I have been watching Elvis's Blue Hawaii on my big screen TV.  Along with my guide books, notes I wrote, and Dennis's guides, I also have Elvis's travelogue to be my companion in remembering the details of the vacation.  Elvis wore a blue Hawaiian shirt on the movie poster and sound track album cover to Blue Hawaii.  Can you guess what color shirt I bought in Hawaii to wear to the luau?



As Dennis and the Mitchell said:



Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Lost in Lillestrom

I went to Norway in 2005.  This was my first time to visit Norway.   I arrived on Easter Monday which is a national holiday in Norway.  This is important to know when talking about my first impression of Norway.  I bought a train ticket at the airport for Oslo.  It should have been about a thirty minute train ride.  However as usual, when I travel everything becomes an adventure and never quite turns out as planned.  I got on the wrong train.  I was told I was on the express train but that I had not paid for an express train ticket.  The train only made a couple of stops before reaching Oslo and I would have to get off at the first stop and wait for the commuter train to pick me up to continue my journey.


So here I am.  Easter Monday in Lillestrom Norway, abandoned at the train station waiting for the next train to Oslo.  As I mentioned before, it was Easter Monday.  The entire train station was closed.  There were no taxi's running because of the holiday.  There were not stores or shops opened at the tiny station.  I could not even purchase a snack.   Of course this was before I owned a cell phone.  So I could not call for help or make contact with anyone.  So I waited with my luggage, lost in Lillestrom.   Thrown off train, abandoned at a closed train station, and no where to go.  This was my first impression of Norway.  I did have a wonderful time in Norway.  So first impressions are not always the best.

Traveling Dangers

Back to Boston - Back on the plane - Aerlingus from Dublin to Boston by litlesam
Back to Boston - Back on the plane - Aerlingus from Dublin to Boston a photo by litlesam on Flickr.

Everyone who knows me, knows that travel is my passion.  I often get asked by friends if I get nervous when I travel, or if I find it scary to go to far away places.   I think that anytime someone boards an air plane there is always that little bit of doubt or fear.   It's not overwhelming for me, but still the thought of a little fear is always there if only for a second.   I have often joked that if the plane should crash let it be on the return trip.  That way I would not miss out on that one last journey.

I flew to Hawaii two weeks ago.  While airborne I got to thinking about the times I have had close calls or have been in trouble when traveling.  I always take out travel insurance in case I have any emergencies while away from home.  But I have never really had any emergencies while I have been away.  The only times I have had any problems have all been at the very beginning of a trip.  Those first few moments have been the worst experiences for me.  Never the flight, never the airplane, but always those first few moments when I arrive somewhere.

The first major problem I had while traveling was on a trip to Amsterdam.  Amsterdam has a reputation for being a wild city.  You can go to a brown cafe and smoke marijuana.  You can go to the red light district and see the prostitutes inside the glass windows.  I was offered to buy drugs on the street.  But for the most part Amsterdam is a wonderful city full of culture and beautiful canals to explore.  Like all of my travel problems the trouble in Amsterdam happened the first few moments after I had arrived.  I had read all the warnings about the danger on the train from Schiphol Airport to the Centraal Station in Amsterdam.  I was told to watch my luggage carefully and to be on alert for pick pockets.  And sure enough, less than five minutes after leaving the airport, I had a piece of luggage stolen right from in front of me on the train.  A group of kids jumped on the train at the very first stop from the airport.  They grabbed the bag and ran off the train again.  There was no money in the bag, no credit cards, and no clothing.  But it did have my passport and return airline tickets.  So here I was in The Netherlands for less than five minutes and my passport was gone.   The passport was not difficult to replace.  I went to the police station to get a police report, and then on to the American consulates office where replacing passports was a daily routine.  There was a shop across the street where I had my photos taken.  The consulates office assured me I would have a new passport in three days.  And like clock work I did have a new passport in three days.   Amsterdam posed no other problems or fears for me.  The rest of the vacation was uneventful.  It was those first five minutes that gave me grief.

I went to visit my daughter in Atlanta two years ago.  I was flying United Airlines, which in it's wisdom, always routes me through Chicago when I fly from Baltimore to Atlanta.  It only makes sense I guess.  Atlanta is only a 2 hour flight from Baltimore, so of course they will send me two hours in the wrong direction to Chicago first, and then on to Atlanta.  With layovers it usually takes me four to five hours to get to Atlanta.  This allows me plenty of time to find traveling problems before I arrive at my final destination.  I have never had a problem in Atlanta.  But those first few minutes at O'hare Airport in Chicago have caused me major problems.   Because my flights are always very early on United I am usually a little sleepy when I arrive in Chicago for my layover to Atlanta.  On this one flight I sat at the gate waiting for my flight and fell asleep.  I had placed my cell phone on the arm of the chair where I was sitting.  When I heard the boarding announcement and woke up I reached for my phone and it was gone.  I looked under the chair, all around on the floor and it was no where in sight.  Someone had taken my cell phone was I was sleeping.  This led to more problems when I arrived in Atlanta.  I had not way to call my daughter to let her know that I had arrived, where I was located, and where to pick me up.  I also had not money for a pay phone.  And even if I had the money for the pay phone I still had no idea what was my daughter's phone number.  It was coded in my lost cell phone not in my memory.  I solved this by going to a "pay to use" computer screen in the airport.  I sent out emails to everyone I knew who might know Danielle's phone number.  Within moments my oldest daughter Katie replied with the phone number.  Now to find a way to call her.  I went to an ATM and took out twenty dollars as I had no cash on me.  I went to a newsstand and bought a candy bar and tried to pay with the twenty dollar bill.  It was early in the morning and the lady did not have a lot of change in her cash register so she asked if I had anything smaller.  I had reached my limit by this time and poured out my entire sorry story to her.  She told me to forget the candy bar.  There was a courtesy phone at the customer service booth in the airport.  She said to explain my problem to them and they would let me use the phone.  It sounded perfect.  But my daughter's phone is part of a family package we have for our cell phones and it is listed with a Maryland exchange.  In order to use the courtesy phone in Atlanta to call her it would be long distance.  When the lady in the customer service told me this I must have looked terrible.  She felt so bad for me that she loaned me her personal cell phone to make the call.  Once again the rest of my visit was uneventful.  It was those first few moments that once again gave me all the grief.

As  I mentioned in the beginning, I traveled to Hawaii two weeks ago.  Once again I had some strange connections for the trip.  I had to fly to Atlanta in order to get to Hawaii.  All of the flights were perfect.  There were no crying babies.  No one sitting next to me on the plane had body odor.  There was no turbulence on the flight.  It was all perfect.  So I should have been prepared for those first five minutes in Hawaii.  I should have known that once again those moments are where the problems are located.  We arrived and went to pick up our luggage.  I always keep a large plastic bad tied to the handle of my luggage so I can see it when I arrives in the pile of one hundred other dark look alike pieces of luggage.  When the luggage started to arrive the porters working for the private tour groups all but pushed us aside and started to grab luggage and check labels for their customers.  It was a battle to reach the luggage ramp with them in our way.  We saw my husband Mark's luggage land on the ramp and we managed to get past the travel group porters to retrieve Mark's luggage.  A few moment later we saw my dark luggage with the big white plastic bag bow tied to the handle arrive.  But it never came past us on the ramp.  It just disappeared.  Someone had grabbed my luggage.  I was in a panic.  I was angry, I was upset, and I was trying to figure out what to do next.  I told Mark to stand by the ramp in case it reappeared, while I started walking around the ramp checking out the luggage that was being grabbed by the tour group guides.  I was ready to tell someone off and start a scene ifI found it.  But I never found it.  Two trips around the luggage claim ramp and it was no where to be found.  Then suddenly it reappeared.   I saw the big white plastic bow coming towards me.  Someone did rip off my identification information, so I knew one of the tour guides had grabbed it and then realized it was not their luggage and threw it back on the ramp.  Once again the worst thing on the entire trip happened in those first few moments upon arrival.

There is a saying "It's not the destination, it's the journey that makes you strong."  My new saying is "It's not the destination, it's the arrival that gives you grief."




Thursday, May 2, 2013

The Old and The New

It's always interesting to go back to my original home town.  I lived in Havre de Grace, Maryland for the majority of my first forty years.  I moved seventeen years ago.  There have been a lot of changes in those seventeen years and each time I return I become more aware of them. When I see my two adult daughters I do not really see two adult young ladies.  I still see the two little girls that changed my life.  It's much the same when I return home to Havre de Grace.  I don't see the condo's on the water front, or the antique shops on the main street.  I still see the old Five and Ten Store and the clothing stores on Washington Street.  And when I drive down to the water front I see the old gravel road and the shade trees behind the Seneca Cannery instead of the three story high condo's cluttering the view.

I am sure the folks who live in the condo's have a wonderful view of the Susquehanna River.  And I am sure they have lovely homes.  But I am also sure they have no idea of the memories and the history that is attached to the area their homes are now built on.

The old Seneca Cannery is now an antiques mall.  It lends its name to the housing development just behind it on the water front - Seneca Pointe Condominiums.  My mother worked at the cannery when she was a teenager during the World War II years.  They canned tomatoes here.  She only worked there a short period of time but she loved to tell stories about it.  In the basement area in the back of the cannery German prisoners of war were held.  I doubt very much the folks at Seneca Point Condo's have any idea of this history.  And in reality the entire story might be an exaggeration.  But my mother talked about it from time to time so it became a reality to me.  My mother wanted to write and probably should have.  This all may have been part of a creative novel in her head that never got written on paper.  Today with the internet and blogs some of her stories can now finally be put into words.  So rest assured residents of Seneca Pointe, there might not have actually been German prisoners of war historically at your door step.  But then again maybe there were.

My father's sister Louise was one of my favorite Aunts.  She was a very excitable woman who tended to talk to fast, stutter a little if she got excited, and was full of life.  I loved her.  She and her daughter Peggy were the only two people I knew who talked as fast as I do.  When I would spend time with the two of them we all talked even faster.  We seemed to bring that out in each other. The only time I ever knew Aunt Louise to be calm was when she was fishing.  She could sit for hours on the bank of the river and calmly wait for the fish to bite.  Right at the point here where the cars are parked by the condo's I remember Aunt Louise sitting one afternoon.  There were a couple of shade trees here and she was relaxing under them with her fishing pole in hand.  In her other hand she had a large stick that she would shake at the ground from time to time.  I asked her what she was doing with the stick. She told me ssshhh!   Then she whispered to me there is a big black snake over in that bush, but there is also a big bass jumping out there just off the point.  I'm not letting that snake run me off until I catch that bass.  Aunt Louise won the battle.  She caught the bass and the snake finally crawled away in fear of the stick.  No one at Seneca Pointe Condominiums will ever know the story. Sadly no one's excitable Aunt will ever be able to relax under the trees and fish here any longer either.  My Aunt was the first of several in my family to be diagnosed with alzheimer's disease.  Her stories were lost forever buried deep in her brain somewhere.  But if the folks in the condo's want to here some of her stories I still have them.

There was an old cement wall along the cove behind the cannery. You could sit on the wall and let your feet cool in the water or you could fish from the wall.  It was almost at water level so it was not very tall.    At one time there was a very old and weather beaten picnic table next to the wall  that my family used for a Saturday afternoon family reunion.  My fathers family were a fun but a wild bunch at times.  They were Irish.  They liked to drink and they liked to fight.  They were a true stereotype.  My father had a small runabout boat with an Evinrude motor behind it.  He brought the boat around, from Jeff Baldwin's old docks just around the bend from Seneca Pointe, to take a couple of his sisters out for a ride on the river.  The rest of us waited on the bank by the picnic table waiting to see what would happen.  Something always happened when the family got together.  While they were out on the river another boat came speeding buy and hit them with the wake from his engine causing my Dad's boat to rock very hard.  My one  aunt could not swim and it terrified her.  She raised her fist and shook it at other boat and screamed some words that I need not repeat here.  Not knowing what he was getting himself into the man shook his fist and yelled back and proceeded to follow my fathers boat back to the shore.  My father was a short man being only five foot seven inches.  His two sisters were even shorter.  So I am sure this man was not afraid to argue with this crew.  But they were fighting Irish.  When my Aunt Anna Mary, all five foot three of her, got out of my father's boat and stepped on the shore she was shaking with anger.  The other man still wanted to argue.  Aunt Mary reached down and grabbed him by his hair and tried to drag him out of his boat.  It took three people to restrain her.  She had a hold of his shirt and his arm when they pulled her off.  Two other Aunts came down to join in the "fun" along with my Dad and two of his brothers.  The poor man in the other boat luckily got his engine started and pulled away with his boat with all but his dignity still intact.

My mother also had a sister named Louise.  This Aunt Louise was as different from my father's sister as possible.  She worked very hard all of her life.  For twenty nine years she worked on an assembly line at a shoe factory making combat boots for a government contract.  She had one week of vacation each year.  For many years she never traveled any where and spent most of her vacation at home.  She and her cousin Mary, who also worked at the shoe factory, liked to spend some of the vacation time fishing right here where the Seneca Pointe condominiums are located today.  If a black snake crawled by, she would have left the bass in the river, and fled the area along with Mary.  If some boat would speed by and splash her with it's wake she would either blame herself for setting to close to the river bank, or would have just laughed and waved.  She and Mary would relax by the shore and talk for hours because they knew they had to return to the factory the next week.

Today the condominiums cover the river bank behind the old Seneca Cannery.  There are many families living there now and I am sure each family has it's own share of stories.  They are bringing a new history to the shore line.  I will probably never know their stories nor will they ever know my families stories.  It doesn't really matter.  I really dislike the condominiums.  The block the view of the river and change the appearance of the area.  They will be gone one day also and someone will have stories of grandparents and aunts who lived there to share.  For me, when I return to Havre de Grace and drive down past them my mind flashes back to family and friends who played there and relaxed there.  The condo's may change the view but they can't change the memories.

This is my Aunt Jenny and my Aunt Louise, two of my Dad's sisters at my high school graduation.   Black snakes and boaters beware!  But who could really be afraid of these two beautiful ladies.

This is my other Aunt Louise, my mother's sister.  She would avoid an argument at almost any cost and blame herself for any conflicts that might occur.  She worked hard and had a heart as big as the heavens.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Fell's Point, Man Boobs, and my Grandmother. Or Musing on a perfect spring afternoon



I stepped on the scales at the beginning of this week and screamed.  My weight is way out of control.  I have also not been feeling well.  Lots of weird but not serious symptoms for someone my age, so I am not too concerned about them.  But I also know that I have to take them seriously.  Healthier foods were my first thought.  Then as I was drinking my third Diet Dr.Pepper of the day I started to think about all of the health warning about artificial sweeteners.  So I started out the week with some positive plans.  I was going to eat healthier foods and cut out the diet soda's.  So far the diet soda's are not bothering me too much.  Yes, the absence of caffeine has been noticed but I can handle it.  And eating more fish and chicken is not a bad thing.  Fish and chicken are good.  So it's been all positive so far.  I have woken up each morning feeling a little better.  No headaches, and a little more energy are good things.  I have also been limiting my alcohol intake. Once again this is a good thing.  I know this.  I have allowed myself a glass of wine in the evening.  I do have a love affair with wine.  Anyone who knows me already knows this.  After a few days I decided today to get out of the house and enjoy this wonderful spring weather.  My grandmother would have called this glorious weather.  She loved that word.  She used it often.  When she would be sitting in her little apartment with no air conditioning, we did not have air conditioning when I was young, she would open her window in the afternoon and let the air blow through.  She would call it a glorious breeze.  Feel that glorious breeze.  I can hear her saying that right now.   So I took one glorious afternoon away from the house and headed out for some adventures.

It's been a very long cold winter this year.  Spring is finally here.  It was 92 degrees today, which is more like summer in reality.  We had snow just three weeks ago.  But today was "glorious".  I left the house with my two constant companions, my cell phone and my camera.  I had no plans.  I was just going where the moment led me.   I ended up in Fell's Point, a wonderful area of restaurants and bars in Baltimore.  The tourists go to the Inner Harbor, but people from Baltimore head to Fell's Point.  Keeping with my plan of being healthier I decided to not over indulge in a fatty lunch of bacon cheeseburgers and fries with a beer on the side.  I ended up at one of my favorite places, Woody's Rum Bar.  I have been here many times, but have never tried the rum.  I always save that for another day.  Today I sat on the third story balcony overlooking the harbor, ordered fish taco's from menu and a glass of Pinot Grigio, and took in the sights all around me.  Woody's is a great spot for people watching.  The people on the street below have no idea you are watching them so why not take advantage of the it.

I saw this young girl today just below me on Thames Street.  She was with her boyfriend, fiancee, whatever. He was busy taking many photos of her and she was loving the attention.  For each photo she would stop, swing her hair over one shoulder, then tip her head sideways in the direction of her hair swing and pose for the photo.  It was the same smile, the same hair swing, and same head pose for each photo.  He walked around her and got her from every angle with different backgrounds, but in the end it was the same smile, same pose, same hair swing.  As I watched them a man closer to my age started to cross the street.  He was older, had his shirt opened due the heat, and was exposing his man boobs,or moobs as I like to call them,  as he walked.   He walked directly behind a car pulling out of a parking place.  He kept walking refusing to move out of the cars way.  It was obvious the driver could not see him.  As the car came within inches of hitting him he pounded on the trunk of the car and started to scream at the driver.  The driver pulled out of the space and the man hit the passenger window with his fist and offered some words I will not repeat here.   I looked back at the girl and the young man who were still taking photos of her same pose.  I am sure in the back ground of one of their photos is the man with moobs screaming at a car

So what did I learn from all of this?  First of all I am glad I am not young and vacuous thinking I am original and making the perfect pose for a photo, over and over and over.  I am also glad that I am not old with moobs.  I am glad I have the memory of my grandmother having a glorious day sitting in her apartment enjoying the breeze.  She sat behind her window many days watching the people come and go. And she talked about it everyday.  It's kind of like me writing a blog I guess.  She would have shaken her head at the girl posing for photos, and she would have laughed at the man with moobs yelling at the car.  She would have passed on the glass of wine, but I know she would have loved being with me on the balcony today watching the people below.