Grandpa.

Yesterday marked the eighteenth anniversary of my Grandfather's death. The first of August is always a day I'll remember...August 1, 1989 to be exact.

My sister and I had just arrived at my Dad's house in Swoyersville, Pennsylvania for our annual summer "vacation". We just finished dinner and, after helping clean up the kitchen, went into the living room to watch tv. I can picture exactly what the furniture looked like and the brand new lamp shades my stepmother recently purchased (still covered in plastic.) I remember Marla being pregnant with Bryanna. I can still feel Braxton laying next to me on the couch. I can still hear the telephone ringing and see the look on my Dad's face. I remember Katie and I knowing instantly what was wrong just by the way Daddy looked at us from the kitchen. We started crying.

We all got back in the car and immediately drove back to Hamburg, NY. The last thing I remember before the funeral itself was my Mother answering the door at 2 a.m. in her pink nightgown...crying.

Grandpa "Dem" was, to me, the best! He always smelled like cigarettes and Old Spice aftershave. I remember riding the lawn mower with him when he cut the grass; I remember sitting next to him at Christmastime...opening his gifts. His birthday was (is?) two days (and many years) before mine - we used to share a birthday cake. I was the first grandson (first grandchild) so I was his favorite...he told me so (he probably told everybody that.) I remember his pet toad that lived in the cracks of the sidewalk. I most vividly remember the time he and I had "breakfast" together:

It was early morning and I don't know whether anyone but Grandpa and I were awake (or even in the house for that matter). The sun was shining through the windows and I sat down at the breakfast table next to Grandpa. He was drinking his coffee and smoking a cigarette. He looked at me, smiled, and asked if I wanted to have a contest with him. He went to the counter and returned with two packages of Auntie Anne's Cinnamon Twists - one with pecans, the other plain (he knew I didn't like the ones with nuts). Our contest was to see who could eat a cinnamon twist the fastest by unravelling it. I think we ate both packages and I remember laughing harder than I'd ever laughed before. I don't remember who won.

The day of his funeral, albeit a bit fuzzy in my mind now, was, of course, a very somber day. He was only in the hospital for 39 days before he died so, although we knew he was sick, it was rather shocking to everyone. I was still too young to really understand "why" he died - I just knew that he was dead. I remember what he looked like. I remember touching his hand and telling Katie how weird it was. I remember everyone saying how "great" he looked (which was very strange to me.) I remember crying my eyes out. I remember the "Grandchild" flower arrangement with seven white roses - one for me, Katie, April, Justin, Danielle, Geoffrey & Christopher and one red rose for the future Bryanna (the colors may have been the other way around but this is what I remember.)

Yesterday, when I went to visit my Grandma, I noticed her eyes were swollen and red. Although I knew what day it was I was still surprised that she had been crying so much. She told me it was due to her eyedrops but I secretly knew better. We were chitchatting when she started to tear up again.

Remember how I told you that my Grandpa had a pet toad that lived in the cracks of the sidewalk? Well, for years and years after he died, we (Aunt Eunie, April, me and Grandma) would see a huge toad outside Grandma's side door. Every once in a while I even saw a toad outside my own side door. This always put a smile on our faces because it reminded us of Grandpa. I even liked to pretend that it was a reincarnation of him.

Monday night, when Jamie and I were installing the dreaded screen/storm door, "Grandpa the Toad" was sitting there the whole night, watching us. He didn't seem afraid. The big toad just sat there and watched us fix "his" house. I kept joking with Grandma about it! I even teased that we should fix the frog a small cocktail...preferably a screwdriver. (Grandpa wanted to "feel" the vodka, not taste it.)

Grandma finally told me why she was crying earlier in the day and why she started crying again just then:

Yesterday morning, after making coffee and getting dressed, Grandma walked outside to get the newspaper. Of course she knew what day it was but normally she reflects quietly and fondly to herself. While walking down the cracked sidewalk she looked down and (in her own words) "started sobbing" - on the sidewalk, on the morning of the anniversary of my Grandfather's death, was a dead toad. "As strange and messed up as it sounds," she said "it felt like that day all over again."

As strange and messed up as it sounds...I believe her.

I'm going to visit the cemetery afterwork today. I like to every once in a while. I water his flowers; I pull the weeds; I lean back on his "neighbors" headstone and have a cigarette with him while discussing current events.

Maybe I'll see a toad.

South Park Joey

Interviewed by Rion.

My new cyber friend, Rion, has a fun game on her blog. It's a sort of blog interview in which friends, family members or strangers can ask you questions. The rules (and her interview) can be found on her site HERE.

These are the questions Rion asked me to answer:

1. If you were asked to write a 10-item modern addendum to the Ten Commandments, what would you Command?
Ooh...this is a toughy. After some careful consideration, I hereby command: Thou shalt not do the following six things: judge, kill, steal, serve me mushrooms, intentionally hurt someone (physically or emotionally), force your beliefs/habits onto another. Thou shall do the following four things: be happy, love, mow your lawn, perform random acts of kindness.

2. Since Tammy is no longer on the air, what is your deepest, darkest television guilty pleasure?
I have always tried not to watch too much television but now, with the enormous variety of cooking/cooking themed television programming, I must admit to watching "Top Chef", "The Next Food Network Star", "Hell's Kitchen", and "Dinner: Impossible"...in addition to whatever looks appetizing on the Food Network. I also regularly watch Desperate Housewives and the occasional game show (especially "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?")

3. Sending your blog question back to you: do you knick knack? What is your favorite type of knick knack, and why?
Although "knick knacking" may not be the appropriate term for it, I do display green and cranberry glass, antiques I've purchased at Gently Used and garage sales, and lots and lots of books. I also like mirrors. I hope to one day have small framed mirrors throughout our living room (in place of photographs or paintings.) My favorite types of knick knacks are those that are tastefully displayed, i.e. Hummels on a symmetrically designed hanging shelving unit.

4. Okay, I'll bite Mr. English Major. What is the one book everyone should read but won't enjoy?
That's a really difficult question to answer! A book everyone should read but won't enjoy? That totally depends on their taste, I think. In addition...how do you define "enjoy"? OK, OK...let me just answer the question. I think the book that everyone should read but will likely not enjoy is either "The Joy of Cooking" or "The Bible".

5. Number 5 is a challenge. Video blog the simplest recipe you can think of, if you dare. If you choose Truth instead of Dare, tell us the celebrity you'd like to go to Tahiti with for magical calorie-free cocktails and etcetera.
OK, I'll totally do the video blog dare when I get home but I'll also answer the truth question. I would love to go to Tahiti and drink loads of calorie-free cocktails with Rosie O'Donnell. I think she would be tons of fun...not to mention she knows lots of Broadway show tunes.

Here are the rules...but click on the link to Rion's blog anyway.
1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

I am going to "tag" and interview Michael.

How to put up a storm door.

After dropping off my Grandmother's car yesterday (and waiting for Jamie to come pick me up), I decided that I was going to rearrange her furniture. She wasn't home and I had nothing better to do.

I took her fish tank to the basement (it was empty but still sitting in the corner of her living room), moved her jewelry cabinet into the bathroom, dragged her rolltop desk from the dining room into the living room (yes, she had it in her breakfast room), strategically placed a lamp from the upstairs bedroom atop the desk, took all her pictures off the entertainment center, dusted, replaced the pictures that weren't over ten years old, positioned some floor plants, fluffed the pillows, and made myself a cocktail...all in about 25 minutes.

Just when I went outside to have a cigarette, Jamie pulled in the driveway to pick me up. He got out of the car and I asked him if he wanted to help me install the new screen/storm door that Uncle Brian and Aunt Helen just bought for Granny. I could tell he didn't want to but I also knew his hesitance was waning because he secretly wanted to prove to himself that he (we) could actually do it. I pushed him back into the car and sent him home to get some power tools and (just in case) super glue, thumb tacks, my steel-toed boots, and my overalls.

I was ready. I was prepared. I was buckling a tool belt around my waist when Jamie returned.

We managed to successfully remove the old door without a hitch; we unfolded the instructions (printed in four languages...English being the most indiscernible); screwed some things in. Then, six hours later, came the hard part: we had to install the automatic closer. Sounds easy, no?

Needless to say, we were unsuccessful at our first seventeen attempts. A few too many holes drilled into the door later, we had what looked like a properly attached air-pump hingy thing. The door opened and... We adjusted the thing. The door opened and slammed closed. We adjusted the thing again. The door wouldn't open. We adjusted the thing again. The door opened and closed as per instructions. We put the tools away. We tested the door again and it opened but didn't close. Our nerves were wearing thin. I started yelling at Jamie (for no reason at all.) We tested the door again and...miraculously - it worked! It opened and closed. Again...it open and closed!!! We were happy (although still have the other air-pump hingy thingy to attach today after work.)

All in all, the door looks great! It is beautiful; it functions properly; we didn't break anything. The fact that it took us the better part of a day is beside the point.

Moral of the story: an interior decorator does not a small contractor make...even if you're wearing the right outfit.

Hank Williams: Lost Highway

HANK WILLIAMS: LOST HIGHWAY
A Toe-Tapping Musical by Randal Myler and Mark Harelik

September 14 – October 14, 2007

From the same creative team that brought you ALWAYS…PATSY CLINE, The Kavinoky Theatre is pleased to announce a spectacular musical biography of the legendary singer-songwriter frequently mentioned alongside Louis Armstrong, Robert Johnson, Duke Ellington, Elvis and Bob Dylan as one of the great innovators of American popular music. The play follows Williams’ rise from his beginnings on the Louisiana Hayride to his triumphs on the Grand Ole Opry to his eventual self-destruction at twenty-nine. Along the way, we are treated to indelible songs like “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” “Move It on Over” and “Hey, Good Lookin’,” which are given fresh and profound resonance set in the context of Williams’ life.

“The best example of a musician’s bio put on stage that I’ve ever seen. Wonderful…delightful…marvelous.” – NY Post.

I'm reading...

I AM NOT MYSELF THESE DAYS by Josh Kilmer-Purcell and I love it!

My friend, Michael, turned me on to the book and I am so glad that he did!! It is a great read. Here's what "they" have to say about it:

I Am Not Myself These Days is a darkly funny and brilliantly written noiresque memoir by a young New York City advertising art director by day/glittering nightclub drag queen and amateur beauty pageant contestant by night, who finds himself struggling to keep his high heels grounded during a doomed romance with his penthouse-living, crack-addicted, male escort boyfriend.

Burgerfest and Bicycling.

I woke up this morning happy knowing that I had nothing to do today. Jamie was taking my car down to his Dad's for the weekend, I got to sleep in, and the weather was gorgeous.

I decided that I wanted to go to Hamburg's Burgerfest 2007. I had never been and I wanted to see what it was all about. (Although I had a pretty good idea: food vendors, arts and crafts, lots of kids and a beer tent.)

I showered, changed and walked the mile to get to where the festivities were. I bought my tickets and decided to order...a burger. After some walking around (I watched some MC play "Simon Says" with a bunch of kids), I decided to order...another burger - this time however it was a "Buffalo Chicken Wing Burger" (which means it was a cheeseburger with a hot sauce/bleu cheese dressing mixture slathered on top.)

While browsing the different non-food vendors, I purchased two cookbooks and called it a day. I walked on down to Murphy's and had myself a Blue Moon beer while browsing through my newly purchased books. Then was the time that I also decided that I was going to walk to my Grandmother's (remember, I had no car.)

She lives about 3.5 miles from where I was and I trekked along like a trooper...until the last 1/4 mile. I was sore and tired and sweaty. Needless to say, I made it there and had a nice chat with Granny. In addition, I decided that I was going to take down an old bike she had, wash it up, and fill the tires with air. I said to myself, "You've been a good boy today. You've walked nearly 5 miles and visited your Grandmother. Keep it up, boy! Ride the bike home." Which I did.

I haven't rode a bike in a LONG time! At first it was fun. Then it was work. Then I was in pain. Then I got home.

I don't know who out there reading this rides a bicycle on a regular basis but, if you're one of those people, answer me this: after riding a bike, do you suddenly lose your ability to walk down stairs? I know I did! I came into my house and had linguine legs. My walking looked like Bernie's in "Weekend at Bernie's" - honest to God!

Oh...and the bicycle seat. The most poorly executed invention of all time if you ask me. My ass is still numb.

I never realized how painful physical activity is. I'm going to rub some Tiga' Balm on my sore muscles and go to bed.

RIP Tammy Faye

Tammy Faye [Bakker] Messner died this evening after a long battle with inoperable cancer.

I used to watch her various television programs and teasingly make fun of her dark mascara but I want to say, honestly, that I learned some things from her. I don't want to elaborate but if you find yourself browsing the web...Google her and find out.