After the fire and Craig and his family moved away, I started to hang out with a boy that lived across the street.  His family and my family were friends.  My brothers were friends with their daughter.  Tim, the young guy across the street, was probably about 4-5 years older than I was.  When we began hanging out, he was I think, in 6th or 7th grade so her was definitely older.   As I reflect back, I believe that Tim was not necessarily a bad kid, but he was adventurous and daring.  One of our goals was to always build or make forts.  We were always either taking with permission or actually kind of stealing the boxes from the knitting mill down the street.  Tim’s philosophy was that they had more boxes than they needed so they would not miss one or two.  As Tim was older, he had begun to smoke.  Little did he know I had too, so when we were together smoking was always something we did. 

Bottom line here is that when I started to hang out with Tim we frequently found ourselves in places that we should not be, doing things we should not be doing.  One of Tim’s favorite devices was fire.  Because of smoking we always had a lighter or matches making playing with fire a lot easier.  Most of the places we were playing in were not very safe to be making fires.  The buildings or structures were usually dried out making a fire quite easy.  

I recall he and I sneaking into the empty store next to his house and across the street from mine.  We climbed in an open window from his backyard and snuck around.  Tim and I also had candles and matches so we could make light in our new fort.  We settled in these little square type boxes stacked on top of each other.  Those became our respective "homes" within the store.  We set up candles in there so we had light.  I think we did this for about 2 - 3 days before my mother caught on.  At dinner THAT NIGHT, mom began asking all these questions about what Tim and I had been doing and where we were going.  She mentioned that she had looked for me several times and could not find me.   I've never been good under pressure and I sing like the proverbial canary. I told my mother everything.  Suffice to say that she was more than just angry.  I understood why she was concerned because the building was old and dirty and really could have gone up in flames pretty easily.  The message I heard was not of concern, but of real anger.  Thankfully mom was never real big on grounding because she was then stuck with me.  I was hoping that maybe a stern talking to would cover my punishment.

 Not only was I grounded for two weeks, but I was also forbidden to see Tim for two weeks.  And as if that weren't enough, she told Tim's mom what was going on and he got into trouble too.  It was a two-fer.  I guess when I was in elementary school I did normal things.  I was a bit of a hellion - I did a lot of things kids did not do until they were in Jr. High.  By the time I hit Jr. High, I had done a lot of stuff I probably should not have.  It was around this time that I began trying to be "The Best Little Boy."  Not sure how well that worked, at least in the beginning, but I believe by my senior year, I had really calmed down and began to focus on my future.

The Adventures of Sharon part dos - Spring City, Royersford, Limerick, and a trip to Rehoboth Beach

Sharon in the early days - well besides giving my brother "clown orange" hair - those early days are a bit of a blur.  I remember that she was a secretary at Spring City Elementary school when I started.  Beyond that, I don't have too many memories of her life in the Spring City apartment.

The house across from the Grace Lutheran Church, I also do not have a lot of memories.  She was married to Ernie and by this time she was a mother of at least one and I think two.  I remember jelly sandwiches sitting on a high chair.  I remember Ernie bopping in and out and even dancing.  I went there after the Saturday morning skate in the basement of the Lutheran Church.  Not always but, I would and then my parents would pick me up.  I believe that I was still in elementary school during this period because my cousin Lee Ann was in jr. high and that was with whom I went.

By the time she moved to Lewis Road, her daughter was the age of Barbie Dolls and I was probably in 6th or 7th grade.  I would go out and visit and play with Tracy's Barbies.  Actually I liked making clothes for them.  I didn't really play with them as much as I used them to design clothing (where were these design shows then uh - my life could have been very different!)  Anyway - it was during these visits that Sharon and I began to develop the basis for the relationship that has remained in tact all these years.  I also think that Sharon would let me smoke whenI was with her.  How cool was that?  I was smoking with an adult!    I do recall a night or two staying with the Tracy and Todd (they were in bed asleep)  maybe it was so she could go get cigarettes or something of that nature.

I don't remember what year it was, I remember that I had bought a daisy printed speedo (everyone wore them then)  to go to the beach.  I would have had to be in at least 7th maybe going into 8th grade.  My brother was working in Rehoboth Beach, DE and had a trailer he rented.  Sharon and I went down for the 4th and stayed with him in the trailer.  This was probably my first trip with someone other than my parents.  I know I was very excited.  She picked me up and by now we had established a pretty comfortable rhythm to our conversations.  We smoked as we talked.  We stopped at a strip mall on RT.1 to get some snacks.  I am not sure what I got, I think a crumb cake maybe because I ended up with a lot of crumbs in my crotch and this became a source a great hilarity for the both of us.  I believe there were a number of double entendres being used give meaning to the crumbs.  I think I may have even had a cup of coffee.  I was living large and feeling like an adult.  My other recollection of that trip was walking along the beach and my cousin telling me to look around.  I did and wondered what the deal was.  The deal was, we were standing on what is now called Poodle Beach - which is the primarily gay section of the beach.  She thought it would be funny to see my reaction.  I was immediately uncomfortable and wanted to leave.  I actually believe that she wanted to scope things out so we went into the water and held hands.  After a brief time, we headed back up the beach towards where the boardwalk was located.  This may have been when she moved to her grandmother's house and not when she lived on Lewis Rd.

After she left the house on Lewis Road, she moved into her grandmother's house on Green Street and I believe it was 2nd Avenue.  The house was left to her by her grandmother Ada.  It was through Ada, that I was related to Sharon.  Ada had not done much to the house in years, so when Sharon moved in, it required a lot of painting.  I remember going over there often to help her paint and probably to smoke.  I did enjoy painting and do to this day.  Thankfully I gave up smoking for good in 2002.  The adventures from Green street will come on another entry.

Thanks for reading - let me know if you enjoyed it - feel free to follow me to get live updates delivered to your box - or just say hi.  Let me know what you think of the elements of writing.   Cheers!

*****  If you have read this far - read this - I am in the process of getting my dates and years figured out - I found an old diary that should help with that.  I will update this more when I get the information I need .... 

The Adventures of Sharon and I

I saw my cousin Sharon today.  I have not seen Sharon in at least 3 years and maybe longer.  Sharon is the same age as my oldest brother - they went to high school together.  I did  not discover Sharon until I was in maybe late elementary school or jr. high.  I seriously don't remember.  I do remember that she used to live in a small apartment on Main Street in Spring City next to the Cigar Store.   She moved from there to a small home in Royersford, I think on Church Street - it was next to and across the street from the Grace Lutheran Church on Main Street.  From their I think she moved to a house our on Lewis Road.  That house has long been demolished, but it was just past the Bible Fellowship Church on a bad bend on the right.  From there I think she moved to Green Street, into what was - Aunt Ada's home.  I forget Sharon's connection to Aunt Ada, but when Aunt Ada passed, Sharon got the house.  Sharon's daughter, Tracy explained that Aunt Ada was Sharon's maternal grandmother.  From there Sharon moved up to Boyertown in a small apartment complex just off Rt. 100 before you got to the Boyertown exit.  Her next move was to a 3 bedroom home on Moyer Rd. just off Rt. 100, across from the Lower Pottsgrove Swim Club. After she left that home, she moved into an apartment in Royersford owned by, I think it was her cousin Cindy Astimer (I am sure that is not how you spell her last name and I am also sure that is no longer her last name- but that is what I remember).  From that apartment, she eventually moved to a small kind of cottage in the woods built by her husband Les.  It was a nice property and the two of them made some really nice upgrades to the property.  When Sharon's mother moved from Arizona, they added a suite for her which, as I recall, was quite nice.  Sharon continues to live in the house, though Les passed many years ago.

Sharon and I had many adventures together as did Sharon and my brother.  I often thought that they reminded me a bit of a male/female Laverne and Shirley.  My best memory was the night Sharon dyed his hair.  Neither my brother nor I were very happy about being brunettes, always wanting to be blonde- tan - and surfer looking.  Sharon agreed to dye his hair blonde.  So one night after my brother was done work (He worked with Sharon's first husband and the father of her two children Tracy and Todd - his name was Ernie) Sharon attempted to dye his hair blonde.  Of course she was not a hairdresser, maybe a wannabe, but this process required her to strip his hair.  My brother came home from this adventure and went to bed.  My mother went in to wake him the next morning and found that her son had this beautiful golden blonde hair.  She woke him, he sat up, she gasped in horror.  One side of his hair was, as I said, golden blonde.  Sadly, the other side was (my mother's words) "clown orange."  Mom was a trooper and did not pass out.  She simply told my brother that his father would kill him and that he needed to get his hair fixed ASAP.  He assured my mother that he and Sharon had worked out a plan.  She suggested that he remedy the problem before our father returned from work, which would have been about 5 PM.  I am sad that there were no pictures of his hair as it would have been and still would be excellent to post.  I am also sad that I never actually saw my brother with "clown orange" hair.  When my brother returned for supper, his hair had obviously been died, but he was now one normal color of brown.

I am sure they had many adventures, most of which I was not privy to, which is probably really for the best.  I know that my brother shared a lot with her, which I think was very good for him.  I know that in my formative years, I was lucky to have a friend like Sharon.  She suggested to today that we could write a book about our experiences together.  I decided that I needed some topics for this blog again and believe me - Sharon is a good one.  I will relay one finally story that I reminder her of today at lunch.

Again, as I said I too wanted to be blonde.  I was in college at Eastern University (It was College then) and my parents had retired to Florida.  I had the pleasure of living with Sharon.  I was, as her son Todd called me "The Basement Dweller."  Anyway I asked her to give me highlights before  went home to Ft. Lauderdale - so I would look all cool.  This was in the mid 80's.  I bought the frosting kit and away we went.  I could tell by the way she was touching my head that my highlights were maybe not quite right.  When she was done and I washed the bleach out of my hair, I looked at the back of my hair, and as I had suspect, she had created a checker board on the back of my head.  Ok so I escaped the "clown orange" but a checker board?  Really?  I did not scream real loud, but she found it quite amusing that she had created this effect on the back of my head.  She thought - as much as SHE liked the look - she should probably connect the squares.  She did and though my hair, where it had been bleached, had a red tint, it looked better and I was set for adventures in Ft. Lauderdale.

I think I will cover my adventures with Sharon chronologically based on where she was living at the time.

Thanks for reading and check back again for the next installment of Sharon. 

When the Show is on the Other Foot

As many of you have kept up with my blog - you are aware of the hell that was my life for the past couple years.  What I am particular talking about is the surgeries.  My furry buddies, of course did their best to take care of me while I was recovering from my surgeries.  They were loving and cuddling and even patient - sometimes.

Last week the show was on the other foot.  My nearly 15 year old Bischon, Mick, had several surgical procedures.  He had two teeth extracted (I think it was # 8 on the left side both top and bottom), he had a large fatty lump removed in his chest.  Thankfully it was not attached to anything so came out easily.  I think he may have lost nearly a pound with that removal.  Finally, he had these annoying lumps on his back.  Nothing serious, just kind of gross to touch/pet and they flaked - leaving pieces of Mick everywhere he went.  Reminds me of that song we sang as kids - "Leprosy - I'm the half the man I used to be."  They were removed with lasers and then stitched up with dissolving stitches.

His big day was a Thursday morning.  I dropped Mick off at the vet, where I was told, because of the lump removal, he would be first or second up.  I drove home to find his sister LU looking a bit sad because her nemesis was gone.  Because Mick had to be taken to the vet early in the morning, LU and I retired to the bedroom for a nap.

We woke up and I headed downstairs.  I checked the phone in case the vet called, but she hadn't.  I continued on with my day and eventually I did get a call around noon.  I was told that Mick did well in surgery and was now in recovery.  She said he was slowly coming around and would be ready to come home around 4 - 4:30.

I arrived at the vet and was given direction on how to care for Mick.  I was told he would probably sleep most of the time, which was a good thing.  I was given tremodol for pain, a drug with which I am familiar.  I only hoped that it helped Mick more than me.  Of course his activity was to be limited and I was to be careful of his stitches.  Eventually my little buddy arrived on the scene.  He was a bit dippy (more than usual) but awake and alert and excited to see his dad.  I have this never ending trouble with Mick - When I take him someplace he always sits nicely in the back seat.  When I bring him home, he insists on standing the entire time.  This often involves me telling him to sit down, or listening to Mick slide back and forth on the seat or occasionally hitting the deck when I have had to come to a stop.  I explained Mick's behavior to the vet tech who suggested I put him on the floor in the front seat of the car.

Loaded up, we began our track home.  Mick tried multiple times to jump up on the front seat, so I spent most of my drive time with one hand on the wheel and the other trying to keep him off the front seat by petting him around his ears.  At one point I glanced over and his little head was resting on the front seat, his tongue was hanging out to the side, and his eyes were closing slowly.  Two other times I glanced over and he was sitting on the front seat, his eyes would slowly close and his head would lilt to the side.  Suddenly he would almost fall over and then snap awake.  In truth, it was really quite adorable.

I discovered as soon as we got out of the car that Mick was not going to be an ideal patient.  I had trouble picking him, because he preferred to jump the steps.  I tried to make sure the living room was set for him, having washed all of his beds and covering them with clean towels.  I had to go out for the evening and when I returned, Mick was a little less excited to see me than usual, which was a good thing actually.  I gave him a little food, tried to walk him as I was warned that he had a lot of liquid in him and would have to tinkle a lot.  I decided I would get up around 3 AM to take him out just in case.  All went well and I was up again around 7 AM to do another walk and a little more food.  Friday ended up being a really chill day for the both of us.  I decided to do the same thing again on Saturday night to help the little guy out.  I was up around 3:30 AM to take him out.  Already by this time, I was beginning to struggle with picking him up for the steps.  Because of his surgery, i was not able to grab him as I always have and with his squirming - well - we nearly had a few disasters.

As luck  would have it, I did not set my alarm for AM, but rather PM.  Not to worry though because Mick was already feeling better and let me know it was time to go out by barking to get me awake.  It was 5:34 AM when we went out.  All went well and I went back to bed.  At 8 AM - I was awakened by the loud barks of my buddy Mick.  He was not hungry, he did not need a walk - no he just wanted me to get up so he could sleep in his bed while I sat near him.  He was starting to get healthy.

Some touchy subjects - bare with me

I wrote this post a long time ago - I still stand by my thoughts and beliefs in this post.  I will say up front - you may not like what I have said, and you may completely disagree. This is America - we are supposed to share our thoughts, have rational discussions and sort out the answers.  Since I wrote this, there has been so many shootings and hate crimes and other things, it is hard to believe that this is the America in which I grew up.  We all need to do a better job of being human to each other.  That means respecting each other - it also means we can disagree or not approve of things others do, but it certainly does not mean belittling, hurting, or flat out telling someone they are completely wrong.  Funny - none of us really knows what happens when we die.  Some of us like to think we do and believe that, I am one of those who does.  I am also one of those who believes strongly that people have to find their own paths, and that forcing someone to believe something they don't or suggesting they are wrong because they don't is just as bad.  Aretha Franklin said it best R-E-S-P-E-C-T  - it is time to do that with each other as human beings.

I try desperately to keep my political thoughts to myself on Facebook because I really hate reading the nasty comments back and forth between people.  I also think that people are entitled to their opinions -  If I have a friend on Facebook whose political ideas really upset me - I unfriend them.  We clearly have little in common.  I will say that rarely happens.

First - the Confederate flag -  I alway thought the flag was cool, but of course I never really understood what it meant.  I learned - the hard and embarrassing way - how many viewed the flag.  I was teaching Phoenixville's band.  Color presentations had all but disappeared from band shows, so we popped up a 1776 flag at the end of our show - 1776 was safe to pop without a "guard" which means that an American flag must be guarded by at least one weapon at all times.  Any other pseudo looking flag does not need to be guarded.  At the very last football game of the season - I thought it would be cool to switch flags.  Yes I had this romantic notion about the South and Gone With the Wind.  I loved the Mobile Azalea festival.  My favorite band was University of Southern Miss.  I was excepted to the University of Southern Miss. and Alabama on twirling scholarships.  What did I know - I was a dumb 20 something.  Mike Solick - a man I still hold in highest regard, was the band director.  The Confederate flag popped and he came after me.  He firmly explained to me what this flag stood for to many people.  That would be many people from Phoenixville - one of the most diverse towns in what was then, The Chestmont League.  Without knowing it, I had inadvertently insulted many of the parents of the students I loved.  I felt terrible, I was embarrassed, and wanted to hide.  That day I learned there was nothing good in that flag.  I still love the South - but they lost the war.  I would like to think that we have moved on from that time.  It is pretty clear that this is not the case.  I am amazed at the number of those flags that I still see on vehicles in Lancaster. I mean we are not exactly in the south.  Years ago a few students at Ephrata felt it necessary to hang a huge (I mean huge) flag off the top of the auditorium roof.  Those students were suspended.  Again - people need to move forward - not cling to the past.

Donald Trump -  I used to love his show, until I started to see him for what he really was on that show - arrogant bully.  He might be a teddy bear with his family and even his friends, but, and as much as I don't like Ted Cruz, I agree with him that this is not a person I want to have access to weapons that could begin a war.  His attitudes set us back years and years and years.  I am tired of people shitting all over O'bama -  He was never really permitted to do the job he wanted because the congress and the senate tied his hands.  You do not have to look far to see what has happened to the congress and senate since he became president.  I have just had it with the implications that O'bama is worthless.  I have just not heard one thing from Trump that would ever make me want to vote for him.  His ideas and thoughts move us back hundreds of years.  We can do all we want to try to stop attacks - but other countries have lived with this for years, we are soft and spoiled and to know that all you have to do is travel out of the country.  We created the technology - it should not be surprising that we have to know really deal with it.  Thanks Mr. Trump for attempting to turn the clock back to World War II behavior.  MOVE ON!

The Citadel - all you have to do is look at the pictures to know what those cadets had in mind - Christmas past ghosts?  Really?  I am appalled at the behavior of these arrogant young men.  These are men that I would not want serving my country - because I have been under the impression that this is the home of the "brave" and land of the "free."  What is brave about hiding behind masks and robes?  And how does this show that we (not that is a plural pronoun) are free.  Free to do whatever the hell we want?  Not free to be humane to others.  "Do unto others?"  I guess high school teachers no longer tell the stories of the past - so history does not repeat itself -  that is moving backwards and not forward.

Radicalized is a now popular term.  I read this a few days ago and as I was looking through my blog this morning before I typed all this - I saw a post where a year or so ago I said this very same thing.  These people who kill people in the name of Christianity - smack very similarly to those that kill people in the name of Islam.  I am not sure what the difference is hear.  I don't know anywhere in the Bible where Christ tells us to go kill people with whom we do not agree.  It is time we (and by we I mean the media since they have their nose in everything constantly stirring the pot!) call it what it is - These are radicalized Christians.  If it walks like a dog, smells like a dog, and goes to the bathroom like a dog - it is probably a dog.  All of this makes me think of "The Crusades" which had people killing in the name of Christianity -  Hello - that is backwards progress - nothing forward about that.

I read a very disturbing article this morning from the Daily Beast.  I don't know if this is a reputable source or not.  What I do know is that what they printed as truth was very upsetting.  This was about Marco Rubio - the moderate of the GOP -  The article is way too long to cover in a blog post - but the gist was that he wants to reverse marriage equality and work place equality.  I want to make this clear - I am not a fan of abortion, I believe there are so many other alternatives to abortion, but I am not a woman and it is not my body, therefore I have no right to make those decisions for someone else.  Not my body not my choice.  There are probably many valid reasons for having an abortion - reasons that I, in my life, will never understand, but it is still not my right to force my beliefs on others.  When men start to make decisions for women's bodies - there is a serious problem.  There was a court case that solved this issue.  The issue was settled.  You don't have to like it, but you need to respect the rights of others.   Same-sex marriage was settled.  It was voted on and settled.  I have many gay friends who are now married - what would happen to these marriages if this law was reversed?  Home of the free land of the brave?  Why must people continue to turn back time - Even Cher only thought about turning back time, but she never did.

Finally - if you are not happy with what I had to say - I seriously don't care and honestly - I don't really care if you agree with me.  What I care about is that maybe there is something in this post that makes you think again about antiquated ideas that have us continually not being the home of the brave and land of the free.   Ladies and Gentlemen - it is time to let go of the past and move on.

A Post that was not Posted from a year or more ago

It's been quite awhile since I posted in this blog - but was encouraged to start again by my former high school class mate Linda.  The problem is what to write about.  It's not like nothing has happened to me over the past months, but a good deal of it is not really pleasant.  I guess though we grow through our struggles.  I think I had this crazy notion growing up that as I got older, life would become less complicated and ..... well .... yes I'll say .... easier.  Whew - what a lie that is.

I am pretty sure I have said this before - but you never know when a crisis is going to strike.  In this day and age, having a plan is crucial.  Many of us reading this may be blessed enough to still have our parents, but for those of us who don't or whose parents are not well, life becomes even more complicated.  I think many of us grow up thinking that our parents will always be there and they will always help us when things get rough.  Sadly this is not always the case.

So first - do the best you can to put money away in case.  I knew I had bad knees, but had no idea that at the end of two years, I would be deemed disabled and on disability.  I had no idea that many times walking from the living room to the kitchen would bring me to tears.  I had no idea that taking a nice long walk would no longer be a part of my life.  I was at least blessed to have some income and many friends who came through with support, I would have not survived the two years.  Do whatever you can to put money away.

Winter Guard 2015 - a synopsis

It is true that my last post to this blog was February 2015 - there sure was a lot of road to travel between there and February 2016.  I will slowly begin to catch up as I have gotten back into blogging again and do see the value in it - really -

To be honest I just kind of existed from February through to the Spring.  I teach a winter guard and our plan was to attend the TIA Championship in Wildwood, NJ.  As a result we were working fairly hard to get our act together so we could compete.  Though we did work hard, the young women in the group still found it difficult to really work hard and dedicated themselves.  They did not take correction or direction all that well.  We had some rather dramatic moments with the mental stability of some of the young ladies.  One such incident, sadly lead to one of the young women quitting.  Mental Illness is no joke.  As we all know it affects a large percentage of America, but if we would lighten our culture a bit, it might go away.  We make ourselves crazy.  But I digress.  We had a student quit the week before we were to go to Wildwood, leaving more problems.  Though the show ended up being OK - it was in fact - OK.  The only good thing about this trip was that they were not last in their group.

As the summer began, I was having trouble getting the girls to come to practice as I had done every summer previously.  Many of the girls were now graduated and fending mostly for themselves or were seniors who needed to work to get money for college.  It was discouraging, but I managed.  As cliche' as it may sound,  I finally left in God's Hands - if there was going to be a color guard, then there would be one and I would stop worrying about it until the time got closer.  If there was not going to be one - we last two more years than I could have imagined.

I found myself - still in fairly fragile condition, and constantly worrying about falling.  I was hired to work with a local high school band as a weapons (rifle) instructor.  After a late start because of the application process- I began to work there.

Of course there is much more to the story, which I will relate in another post.  Thanks for reading and again- I intend to keep this up again.  I think it filled the need I had at the moment, but it is always good to write- as a former English teacher, one of my favorite parts of teaching was - the writing process.  I thought I was pretty good at if I must say so! I also enjoyed teaching a course that I continued to develop over the years called Contemporary Man.  Anyway - I sense rambling mode approaching so I will say my fair wells for now - Cheers!