An A++ Holiday Theme

"You'll shoot your eye out!"

"The best way to spread Christmas cheer is to sing loud for all to hear!"

"I never eat December snowflakes. I always wait until January. "

If movies are a part of your holiday celebration, you might recognize the above quotes from "A Christmas Story", "Elf" and "A Charlie Brown Christmas". As a family, those are a few of our favorites that we watch each year, As a couple, my husband and I try to take in "Love Actually" and then for myself, a little "White Christmas" or "The Bells of St. Mary's". Everyone seems to have their own treasured flicks and no list is the end all be all, but if "A Christmas Story" is one you enjoy, then making a trip to Cleveland is a must.

My family 'fleed to the Cleve' this past July for a Tamburitzan festival. It is a three-day weekend held in a different city each year with performances and rehearsals, but there is some down time to take in a few sights. Not far from our hotel was "A Christmas Story" house, the century old home on West 11th Street used in the film back in 1983. A die-hard fan restored the home to look like the actual set in the holiday classic and it has become a popular tourist attraction.

We decided to make this the one thing we had to see during our visit. We did not know what to expect because while pulling into the neighborhood, it didn't seem like we were in the right place. You can park on the street but some people who live there try to make a few bucks by offering their driveway or side yard for parking. Plus, the street itself looks a lot different without snow and the Bumpus' dogs running outside.

The large gift shop is the first stop you make to buy your tickets for the tour. Luckily, we had some time to kill before ours began so we had plenty of time to browse. This shop is a Christmas collector's dream with lots of non-movie items for purchase, but as you can imagine, there is lots of movie memorabilia to stock up on too.

The Aunt Clara bunny costume, bars of Lifebuoy soap and of course, the fragile leg lamp are all available for purchase. It is tempting not to plunk down some cold hard cash just so you too can experience Mr. Parker's joy when he witnessed "the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window."


Our tour guide provided some interesting facts about the movie and the house, but it is the "stuff" that most of us couldn't wait to check out for ourselves including: the Red Ryder BB Gun propped up by the tree, the Leg Lamp in its crate and the Little Orphan Annie decoder ring set up on the hamper in the bathroom.

The kitchen was equipped with the under the sink cupboard where Randy hid when he thought "Daddy's going to kill Ralphie" after the big fight with Scut Farkus. I am glad Brian Jones made his dream a reality and made the house something every fan can enjoy. There is even a flag pole out front, which many people have been tempted to put their tongue on, but on an 85 degree day in July, it is just not the same.


You really get to know a film when it is on repeat for a whole day - which is how I got to know it so well during the TBS Christmas marathons. I would pick up the movie in different parts, but eventually it didn't matter what I had missed, I could get drawn in instantly. A few years ago I bought the movie on DVD and can watch it whatever day we choose during December and it has become one my kids truly enjoy watching.


I remember the Christmas when, like Ralphie, I really wanted something. For me, it was the year of the Cabbage Patch Kid. My sister and I both wanted our own so badly even though 6 years separated us. That Christmas morning we spotted two big boxes and ripped the paper with wild abandon. But the boxes did not contain authentic Cabbage Patch Kids,  they contained homemade dolls, with soft faces and painted on eyes.

I tried so hard to be happy with my doll. I am not sure what my sister had going on, but I was busy with my struggle and it was real. I did not want to upset Santa by being an ungrateful kid but it seemed to me, the North Pole elves got something wrong.


My mom says there was just no way to get the dolls that year and so she had a friend of a friend made the ones we ended up getting. I am not sure what happened to them, heck I don't even remember the names we gave them, but a mere seven months later, my sister got her for real cabbage kid for her 4th birthday. I got mine a month later for my 10th.


So, the moral of the story is - dreams do come true just for some of us, they take a little longer. For my sister and I, we are no worse off because we did not get our Cabbage Patch Kids the first time around.  In fact, the story of that Christmas is a family favorite which brings tears of laughter to our eyes. Our 'Christmas Story' might be a little more real, which makes it all the more endearing.


It is the memories of being a kid at Christmas -  the excitement, the traditions, the possibilities that all come streaming back as I watch my kids. I hope when they are adults they look back on their Christmases past as fondly as I do mine. With only a few days until Santa's sleigh takes to the sky, there is magic in the air.  No matter our age, if we are young at heart, maybe, just maybe, we can experience the childlike wonder once again.

Nick, be careful. It's Frag-il-ay!

Nolan and Ol' Blue

Nora, make sure to drink your Ovaltine.

Give Christmas A Chance

Christmas is hard. There is so much to do between the shopping and the baking and the cards and the shopping and the baking...yes, I think you get it.

Each year I say, ' Things are going to be different.' I have always had the Donna Reed vision of Christmas where I am wearing a lovely holiday dress with two-inch heels, singing Christmas carols as I take cookies out of the oven, pausing ever so briefly to kiss my husband under the mistletoe. The kids are sitting at the table, smiling at each other, gazing around at the beautifully decorated tree with wrapped presents underneath.

But the reality is, I still have some decorations stacked in a corner not placed. I bake my cookies between dinner and kids' extracurricular activities.  Shopping, luckily, has been made easy though the wonders of the internet so I feel good in that department, but there isn't much magical about what I do.

Here is the problem - my childhood. My mom always did her best to make Christmas special. She made cookies, sent out cards, did the decorating. I remember her with the electric cookie gun making the tasty bite-sized morsels. I remember my special monogrammed ornaments hanging from the tree and oh, the tinsel!

Most of our family decorations from 40 years ago are gone, but just recently, while browsing in a specialty store, I saw an elf statue exactly like the ones that use to sit on our mantle. He had a buddy and each of them were playing an instrument. Back then they looked a little creepy and even now they still look a little creepy, but it filled me with such joy to see Elfin again.

I really wanted to enjoy more of the season this year so, I got started a little early. In the past, I have been a staunch supporter of Thanksgiving. I wanted the holiday to have its due without being overshadowed by Feliz Navidad. My little protest involved barring all things Christmas until December 1. That is when the decorations would come out, the carols would come on and the celebration would begin.

I have since realized that my little protest was not doing the Pilgrims any favors and I was not going to force Walmart out of business by not going out on Black Friday. This year, I went along with the herd and moooove over bacon, I have seen the light!

I had a present plan before Black Friday and with a click, click, click, I was 75% done with my shopping in an hour. I took my Christmas card photo the day before Thanksgiving and had cards designed and ordered before I digested my turkey. My tree went up on November 25, to take advantage of my husband's couple of days off, achieving a world record for earliest tree debut in the Keleschenyi home.

I am happy about the strides I made this year. It did make me a little sad to jump right into Christmas before Tom Turkey officially made a comfortable exit, but in reality, the extra days were just what I needed. It gave me the option to use the limited weekend time we have as a family to do fun things like see a Live Nativity, visit McKeesport's Festival of Trees and browse the Lincoln Highway Hub's Christmas Open House.

I even visited the PPG Wintergarden with my youngest the weekend before Thanksgiving, just because we were downtown and we could. (This would have been a no-no for my old self.) I did have reservations about walking through the doors with the voice in my head saying, 'It's too early! It's too early!', but I powered through and had one of the most lovely experiences ever. It was early morning, hardly anyone was there, and my little guy and I were able to actually look at all the gingerbread houses. We even made a stop at each Santa from around the world and he slowly read the descriptions aloud.

It is difficult to keep the focus on what Christmas is really all about with all the details that come with it. If Christmas was tomorrow, which thank God it isn't, I would still have a few cards that didn't go out and one batch of cookies that didn't get made and nothing is wrapped yet. I would have one child who would not get much because I just got his list yesterday. But on the plus side, there are already some great memories that I have stored away from this holiday season.

I am very pleased with my experiment this year. I have learned that like it or not, in today's society, you have to adapt. I can no longer be the poster child for trying to save Thanksgiving. That is a lost cause. It was a valiant effort, but no more activism for me, only peace.  My new mindset has made December more enjoyable and it looks like I may have started a new holiday tradition, one that will continue to make room for the joy that the season brings.

Creepy Elfins Circa 1970 somethin'

For Everyone Except You

This is the time of year when sweets are front and center stage. Christmas cookies, gingerbread houses, candy canes - it is like December is an all access pass to Sugar Town. I will not lie to you. I am pretty much the mayor of that town and I do indulge myself, within reason. Just last week, I took a photo of a chocolate cake and made it the lock screen on my phone. Yes, I've got it bad.

But something happened to me recently that made me think about the others. Those who cannot indulge because of a food allergy. The nut allergy has become something so common that there are special sections in some school cafeterias where kids with the allergy have to sit. It has also become an issue, at least in my school district, that prohibits homemade or store bought treats from being brought to school for birthdays or holiday parties. Everything is handled by the food service company to ensure the utmost safety during special occasions.

I remember when my son was in preschool and the teachers passed out a list of recommended treats to be brought in for snack day. We were told to check labels and look for the mention of nuts or items made in a facility that processes nuts. I remember hearing some parents complain about having to take these extra steps. You don't really think about it unless your kid is affected and since my children do not have food allergies, I never really understood what some families go through.

For the past decade or so, my repertoire of homemade Christmas delights has included chocolate covered pretzels. I have always loved them, especially the red bag of Sarris pretzels. Prior to me making them myself, I thought they were time consuming and difficult. But a couple relatives, who made them and passed them out as tasty parting gifts after a holiday visit, convinced me they were easy and I should give it a go.  One year I did and I never looked back.

They are nice to give out to teachers, friends, and co-workers. In fact, I started making them for the other students in my kids' dance group. We pass out treat bags each year at our Christmas party and my pretzels always got a compliment or two - some of those came from my own kids who get to enjoy the leftover melted chocolate and broken pieces.

We have a little girl in our group who has a dairy allergy. For the past couple years, she has not been able to eat the pretzels in her bag because of the milk in chocolate. (I was not aware of this until recently.) Her mother is really good about trying to provide treats her daughter can eat whenever there is food involved at any of our practices and gatherings since unlike nuts - milk is in a lot of stuff.

At our November parent meeting, we talked about the items we would be putting in the treat bags. Someone asked if I could make my pretzels again, which I was happy to do, until the mom pointed out that her daughter couldn't eat them. I didn't think it was such a big deal at first. There are other items in the bag. But then I thought about this sweet little girl having to be told, 'No, honey. You cannot eat those,' while watching her other friends, and possibly her sister, chomping like crazy. If I was going to make them I knew I would have to actively check the ingredients and try to find some sort of dairy free chocolate to use. Was there even such a thing?

I made a call to the store where I buy my chocolate and they told me they did not have anything I could use. I went to another store and found a couple baking bars that contained milk powder, wondering if that would be ok but after contacting the mom, I found out they were not. She did provide me with two items I could try - a dark chocolate bar at Aldi and special chocolate chip morsels sold at Giant Eagle.

I was a little apprehensive about using the morsels since they were different from what I normally use. But they melted really well and the only difference I noticed working with it, is that it took a little longer for the chocolate to set. As for the taste, my daughter and my husband cleaned out the left over chocolate bowl and said they could not taste a difference.

The night of our Christmas party I was distracted when Santa came to pass out the presents. It was a bowling party so many of us parents were trying to save face and knock some pins down. But before the party was over, I was caught off guard when the arms of a seven year old suddenly wrapped around my waist. With eyes twinkling and a wide smile she said, " Thank you for the pretzels, Kristen." Her mom explained how happy her daughter was when she asked if she could eat them and was told yes. (Which probably does not happen as often as her parents would like.)

That moment has been replayed so many times in my mind since that night. Her hug made me feel really good. For parents of kids who do not have food allergies we might not always think to ask the right questions when food is being provided to a group. This can cause hurt feelings and force parents to pick up the pieces when their kid is upset because they cannot eat what everyone else is eating.

This experience helped me to realize there are alternative ingredients and recipes out there to consider. A little modification on my part avoided any unintended exclusion. I am thankful to this mom for being a great advocate for her kid and also for bringing awareness to a condition that affects more people than we realize. Chocolate covered pretzels should only cause tears when there aren't any left not because someone cannot eat them.

A recent batch of pretzels with dairy free chocolate

A Truly Black Friday

The decline has been happening for years. Empty store fronts multiplying, huge vacant parking lots, non-existent crowds, but as of last year Century III Mall was still somewhere you could get some decent Black Friday shopping in.

Besides the only two anchor stores, JCPenny and Dick’s, there was still a Claire’s, Bath and Body Works, Bradley’s Books, FYE, Things Remembered and Victoria’s Secret. In addition, there was Cash In Culture - a vintage video game and toy store.

Yes, the throngs of people from Black Friday circa 1986 were no longer the norm, but younger shoppers weren’t around for that and didn’t know better. Older shoppers like myself, were happy to get some of the great deals and still be able to breathe.

But this year it was different. The anchor stores were open, but the mall didn’t open until 8 a.m. That wasn’t too bad. My family and I were able to do a couple laps around Penny’s, check out the sale items and get into the holiday spirit. But once the Red Sea parted and the steel doors opened, a sad reality was revealed.

First, the sounds of the seasons slipped into soft rock hits. While I love America every now and then, I was not in the mood to hear about a horse with no name. I wanted to hear about a reindeer called Rudolph. Then I noticed FYE was gone – empty – closed up. Claire’s also gone. Cash In Culture a thing of the past. Yes, Things Remembered was still there, which in my opinion is appropriate. Century III is a thing I remember and oh, what great memories.


I am pretty sure my first recollection of going to that spectacular mall was with my mom and my best friend, Amy, who was visiting from New Jersey. I was probably 9 maybe 10 and I remember the sights, the sounds - the excitement. It was like something out of this world and I loved being there.

The mall was so big! The multiple levels meant you couldn’t possibly take everything in, but we tried. One store that stood out for me was called Heaven.  The one image I took away from that place was naked Barbie type dolls that you could dress yourself. Again, appropriate the store was called Heaven because the mall was a celestial experience.

I also remember going Christmas shopping there as a teen. I had a wallet full of paper route tips and I was able to buy gifts for each of my family members on my own. My Catholic school chum, Melissa, and I spent the day at the mall, which appeared to have been decorated by one of Santa’s elves. We bought lots of gifts and I probably got my usual hot fudge sundae at the Dairy Queen. The only item I remember taking home that day was Billy Joel’s USSR concert album for my brother, purchased at National Record Mart. This album is currently in my possession. I wonder if he wants it back now that it could be worth a few dollars more than I paid for it?

Going to Century III Mall this past Black Friday was sad. I know that was it for us. It was nice that for the past couple of years my family and I took advantage of this withered gem and made some memories of our own. My two oldest children truly enjoyed going there and were able to appreciate what existed without having any idea of the majesty it once contained.

Who knows what is in store for the mall. I have heard different things from possible hotel to hospital space to entertainment complex. My only hope is that it becomes something that attracts people from all over like Century III Mall did. It was an amazing place and I am glad it was part of my childhood. Now for some reason I am hungry for a Cinnabon.

Can You Taste It?

The struggle is real. The longing is intense. The craving has been building for the past month and I am seriously counting the days until I am bloated with the afterthoughts of turkey, stuffing and four kinds of potatoes. Yes, I know...Pilgrims, Indians, harvest celebration, but the smells, tastes and beautiful sight of my family's Thanksgiving meal is something I am most grateful for.

It is weird, but for as much as I enjoy turkey dinner, I only partake maybe twice a year. I think subconsciously I feel if I have it more often I won't appreciate it when the special day in November arrives. Every family has their own traditions and recipes that have been handed down and I have to say as much as I love, and have eaten, an entire box of Stove Top  - I would walk a million miles for my mom's stuffing. Yes, she is one of those people who cook it inside the bird and I know some may find that gross, but I try not to think about the logistics.

I like the stuffing that sits on the outside of the turkey the best. The part that gets a little browner than the rest and has a little crunch to it. To this day, my brother and I hover over the turkey, hot and steaming - freshly snatched from the oven, waiting for my dad to cut up the meat. Dad will put the stuffing in a bowl and, with mouths watering, two grown adults vie for that first chunk. We inspect the pieces looking for the crunchiest, the yummiest piece in all of stuffing town. Then we argue about who got the best piece. Ahh, Thanksgiving.

I have come to really appreciate the holiday because I have spent time away from home. When my husband and I were living in Virginia, we tried to plan our vacation days around holidays so we could come back to PA. But, for our first Thanksgiving away, that was not possible. We had not earned enough time off at our jobs to make that happen. I was beside myself because I was homesick and those damn Hallmark commercials were tearing me up. That year my parents brought Thanksgiving to us. They drove eight hours through a dangerous wintry mix stocked up with everything, including the turkey, to make a fine meal. It was a special holiday and one that we will never forget.

Another Thanksgiving we will not forget is the one when I announced I was pregnant. Before we dug into the meal, we went around the table saying what we were thankful for. During my turn, I happened to mention I was thankful that in eight months I was going to be a mom. My announcement postponed the eating portion of the holiday as hugs and tears where in order. The baby, my first born, was the first of my parents' five grandchildren.

We have been living back home for 13 years now. It is nice to look forward to the holiday and know there isn't a long drive involved. It is nice to know that my parents still host the dinner and I can help out making various sides or desserts and yes, there will be the beloved Rhodes Rolls on the table. When I was younger, my cousin and I used to sit around, after everyone had eaten, and enjoy the leftover buffet of rolls. We would just enjoy each others' company and talk over a plate of buttery fluffiness. My oldest son carries on that tradition today with or without company.

The holiday has changed over the years and the guest list is different. Cousins grow up and have their own families, in-laws are involved and some loved ones are throwing rolls across the dining room table in Heaven (a little shout out to my Uncle Harold).

My favorite part of Thanksgiving now is dessert and not due to the fact that my mom is the Bubba Gump of pumpkin. (She makes pumpkin cake, pumpkin roll, pumpkin cookies and pumpkin pie.) It is because that is when the original Bish 5 is all together, in addition to spouses and kids. My sister and her family join us, coming from their earlier meal, and we all enjoy the sweet bounty of unlimited treats. And we then argue about whether or not we should be listening to Christmas music.

Thanksgiving does get downplayed by the terribly commercialized holiday it preceeds, but the simplicity of turkey day is something to savor, especially the little things that are the ingredients for a recipe of treasured memories. 

Dad mashing his famous mashed potatoes!

Extra, Extra

Something happened today that went under the radar to most people who are reading this blog post. Today the new format of The Valley Mirror newspaper hit the shelves. This may not seem like a big deal, but to some, it is. The paper has looked the same for more than 25 years. Today it is different.

A little history of the paper...The Valley Mirror began publication in 1981, serving the communities of Homestead, Lincoln Place, Munhall, West Homestead, West Mifflin, and Whitaker. In 1999, it merged with the Braddock Free Press, which served the communities of Braddock, Braddock Hills, Chalfant, East Pittsburgh, Forest Hills, North Braddock, Rankin, and Swissvale.

I've been working at The Valley Mirror for a little over three years. It was considered a tabloid style paper - a smaller, more compact size. This week we bumped up to a broadsheet style which added a few inches to its size and cut back our number of pages from 24 to 14. When you look at the papers side by side you can see the difference. It is real.

My editor had to make a tough choice. Change is always difficult and hard copy newspapers are not exactly a hot commodity these days. Plus, a large portion of our readership is of an older demographic, who have come to expect a particular product. We get calls from readers complaining when the Crossword Puzzle is omitted on a heavy news week.

At a time when many print papers are going by the wayside or switching to only digital editions it is truly remarkable that a paper like ours is still chugging along... and for a mere 50 cents a copy! When a new edition is put to bed each week - our barebones staff breathes a grateful sigh of relief. Another one on the books!

We do not have a website. We sometimes do Facebook. I often mail out papers or make personal deliveries when people featured in an article do not live near a store that carries our paper. We have a couple thousand subscribers, many of whom live out of state - people who have moved out of town but still want news from back home. It is refreshing that something like this still exists. We are a dinosaur in a 21 century world, just waiting for the asteroid to crash.

My parents still lament the loss of their Daily News. The McKeesport paper was shut down almost two years ago. It was a daily paper and it contained local news, obituaries and happy ads that kept people connected. There have been a few outlets that have tried to fill the gap, but it is not the same. The online sources are often overlooked by an older population that is not going on the interwebs for their news. (Although there are some Baby Boomers who are hip to the information highway. Good for them because that's the way this bus is heading.)

Last night my editor sent me a photo of what the new front page looks like. It was a wonderful sight to behold. The photos are bigger and brighter. The text is a little bigger. There is more of an information buffet on the front page and is was hard to look away. Again, a sigh of relief. Maybe it will be ok. Maybe our readers will like this new format and adapt as life often calls us to do. Maybe, just maybe, they'll continue to pluck down their 50 cents each week keeping our rag vital within the communities we represent.

Just a moment ago, the phone rang in the office. It was one of our loyal subscribers. She said she just left the grocery store and there was a bit of a frenzy near The Valley Mirror newspaper rack. People were excited and talking about how good the paper looked. She couldn't wait to get her copy in the mail. She said we should have done this a long time ago.

 Maybe, just maybe, there is a future in this newspaper business.

Out with the old in with the new and improved Valley Mirror

Slow Down Girl!

Have you ever had the scary experience of losing your wallet? You know that moment of sheer terror when you realize someone could be enjoying an all expenses trip to Chick fil- A on you? Someone could be buying that iPhone you've been eyeing up and would buy if you didn't have a mortgage, car payment or kids.

Well, I had that moment over the weekend. I had been shopping at one of those club stores with my youngest. I borrowed my mom's membership card so I could get a few things for our upcoming church social. The trip was a little disappointing from the beginning. I got what I needed no problem, but the offerings in the free sample department were lacking. There were only a handful of stations (a considerable decrease from the last time I was there) and really nothing new I wanted to try. Airplane cookies and a Teriyaki meatball weren't doin' it for me last Saturday.

We walked through the toy section and got a jump start on a Christmas list before going through the checkout. I was holding my wallet (which has a wrist strap) and had my membership card out as per protocol. Unfortunately, I did not bring a purse and my pants did not have pockets. This means I was also holding my keys and my phone and I was about to be holding my receipt so I could pass through the smiley face checkpoint. (You know the guy that stands near the door to make sure the items in your buggy match the items on your receipt and then draws a smiley face on your paper?)

Walking through the parking lot I was still holding the receipt. I knew I had to keep it separate since I needed it for the church secretary. I put it behind the sun visor in the van and proceeded to unload my cart. While unloading, my mind was racing with all the things I had to do next, so let's just say concentration was not my strong suit at that moment. I put the buggy back and we were on our way. Half way down the road I started looking around the passenger seat for my wallet. Middle console - also no wallet. I pulled over and did a complete van check - no wallet. I knew I had to go back to the store.

For some reason I remained relatively calm. I was trying to convince myself that this wasn't really happening and if it was really happening there was going to be a happy ending. I think I even may have offered this little prayer, "Please God fix this." For goodness sake, I had just bought a book of stamps so if for nothing else, I wanted my Disney villains back.

I first searched all the buggy drop offs. My mind was so scattered that I couldn't even remember where I had parked my van just ten minutes ago. Luckily, an employee, who was about to gather up the carts and take them inside, offered his assistance. He said this was the first time that day he was outside, so no carts had been returned to the store yet. When my wallet wasn't found outside he advised me to go inside. He said, "Maybe someone turned it in."

As I walked into the store my cell phone rang. It was my dad. "Where are you?" he said, "They have your wallet." An employee had called my family since the membership card with my mom's name on it was in the front pocket. Someone had in fact turned my wallet in. My dad told me to calm down, but I felt like I already had a good handle on that.

I went inside to retrieve my wallet and was very appreciative of the service I received. Everyone was so nice and happy for me to be getting my item back. I checked inside and everything, including my credit cards, stamps and lucky buck were still in place. Some good Samaritan took the time to take my wallet into the store so it could be safely retrieved. I don't know if I left it in my cart or dropped it on the ground but whatever happened - a kind, anonymous soul truly saved the day. He/she didn't know me or my circumstances but took the time to make a difference and for that I am humbled.

So you may be asking, why didn't I have a purse that day? First of all, I am not really a purse person. If you see me with a purse it is probably one my mom bought for me. Her philosophy - a woman never leaves a house without lipstick or a purse. I almost never follow that philosophy so I am a disgrace to the ladies of a more elegant generation. I once had a lovely purse, back when I was in high school. It was grey and was made out of tapestry fabric. It held my Hershey Kiss lip gloss and a small beaded bag for loose change. When someone took my purse one fateful day, I swore off purses for life. Nothing could ever replace that beautiful bag and I set myself up for a lifetime of lost keys and Chapstick tubes.

While the purse story did not have a happy ending, the wallet story did. This event was a red flag that I need to slow down a little and always carry a purse. Maybe a Coach bag is just what I need to get my life on track? Is there a script for that?

Rare photo of me carrying a purse

                                             

Thanks, Jimmy...

I was sad to hear of the passing of Jimmy Beaumont over the weekend. If the name does not ring a bell to the under 40 crowd, I understand. He fronted a band which had their biggest hit in 1959. But along with his Skyliners, they provided the soundtrack for my childhood and important moments that I will forever treasure.

Growing up in the 70's, our house was always filled with music.  At a young age, my palate was wet with the sounds of my parents' favorites, Johnny Mathis, Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdinck...Yeah, those were good times, pussycat. As we got older, my brother and I would roll our eyes and moan when those 8 tracks would go in the car before a road trip, but I think my exposure to the ''oldies" fostered my love for The Beatles, which exists to this day.

My dad has a good friend who was a DJ. He would create specialty 8 track tapes just for my dad with songs he liked. There was a Skyliners tape which got so much play I cannot believe it didn't wear out. This was the tape we would listen to when my dad and I would dance together in our living room. "Since I Don't Have You", "This I Swear" and  "Where Have They Gone" were good slow numbers for daddy/daughter dances. Of course, "Pennies From Heaven" was a favorite of my brother and I, who could sing along to the catchy tune...'every time it rains it rains - pennies from heaven. Don't you know each cloud contains - pennies from heaven.'

At the time I did not know Jimmy was local.  It was quite a surprise to find out later that he lived about 5 minutes from our house! One day while playing with my best friend across the street I met one of her school pals who was Jimmy's daughter. I was star struck! I could not believe I was talking to someone who was related to one of the biggest names in our house, besides Terry Bradshaw and Sylvester Stallone.

Upon reading stories since his death, I have learned a few things about this beloved crooner. When Jimmy and his band were invited to perform with Dick Clark's  Caravan of Stars, a New York audience was surprised that this band, with a doo-wop sound, was a white band. (They were the only white group to ever top the Cashbox R&B chart.)  Also, Jimmy was only 18 when he wrote the music for "Since I Don't Have You", which is the song I chose for my father/daughter dance at my wedding. The lyrics were penned by a friend, who would later become the band's manager, dealing with his girlfriend's decision to go to school out of state.

Although my taste in music veered a little off the oldies path, now that I am older, I love hearing those old songs now. I love the memories that come rushing back of a little girl in her frilly nightgown and slippers dancing  around the living room to Jimmy's high falsetto voice, which predated Frankie Valli, the Bee Gees and, in more modern times, Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block.

My father said Jimmy had been sick for a while, but according to Internet reports, he was still performing as recently as last month. He died in his sleep in his home in McKeesport. I am sad that I never got to tell Jimmy how much his music meant to me over the years.

 People who have been made famous through their music seem to have that unreliable sense of immortality that continues to fail us. But one comforting element, for those who have come to appreciate the musicianship of these artists, we are only a click away from pulling up one of their hits thanks to the wonder of technology. Hearing their voice, loud and clear, making it seem like they never left us.

I wish I could pop in my dad's 8 track tape and hear a Skyliners' hit the way we used to, but for now, I'm off to search YouTube.   If it rains today and I find something shiny on the ground, I'll know who is responsible.

   

KB and Dad dancing to "Since I Don't Have You"

You Saved How Much?

There is just something about a man dressed in a suit -or even just a sport coat and slacks. (Do people still even use that word...slacks? ) My husband does not have the opportunity or need to get dressed up very often which means a limited wardrobe in this department. So this past weekend meant - shopping spree!

I usually go online and shop that way but there was not enough time. We had a wedding to go to and even though we knew about it for awhile,  the opportunity for both of us to go out and find an outfit never happened. I, luckily have an arsenal of dresses to fall back on but my man needed an updated ensemble.

I remember the very first time my husband and I went clothes shopping decades ago. We were only boyfriend and girlfriend at the time, and we went to Montgomery Ward at Greengate Mall to rack up the charges on his credit card. It was a painful experience. He couldn't make up his mind and it took forever. Funny part about it - we were also heading to a wedding and he needed a dress shirt. We got a few other things too, but it ended up being a long day.

Online shopping makes things so easy now, which makes actually going to a store even less enjoyable for me. Unless...you go to a store that is having one of their bi-annual biggest sales ever. No coupons needed. Just me, a list with sizes and of course, my carde de credit. That's French for plastic money. Luckily, my sister joined me to occupy my youngest who was under the weather.

Almost everything in the store was on sale! (20, 30, 40% off. ) I only paid full price for one item and I decided to suck it up since my first thought was - I could find this somewhere else for less for sure. But the time I saved was worth the price I paid. I got pants. I got shoes. I got a belt and a shirt. I wasn't keeping a running total in my head, but I knew I had saved a nice chunk of money. Plus, I had a gift card. Win-Win!

I know it sounds a little old fashioned but I was proud to be out shopping for my husband. Yes, I would be lying if I said I didn't want to be spending the time getting a little somethin' somethin' for this ol' gal but hey, I knew I would benefit from the eye candy that would be coming my way. I don't get to see the Matthew McConaughey Lincoln Continental side of my husband that often so I was all in.

Upon check out, I found out I saved $104.10! Can you believe it? I felt like I just won the penny slot machine at Rivers Casino. Then I discovered I had earned future bucks for my next shopping experience. My circuits were overwhelmed. I forgot to use my gift card and only realized it after the purchase was complete. I became "that lady" and asked if the cashier could apply it anyway, which meant voiding my purchase and starting over. Yeah, I know she was irritated and I know the people in line were irritated, but I wasn't letting my simple gaffe ruin the satisfaction of savings. I let the ice cold stares bounce right off my warm heart of cha-ching.

So, fairy tale ending - everything fit and looked perfect. He even liked the newfangled belt with the flat front instead of the buckle. The shoes were good too, even though I went with a wide width instead of regular. Then I told him about the savings and the gleam in his eye said it all - this gal got it going on.

It has been almost 20 years since our first shopping experience and we are about to celebrate 18 years since the dressiest day in our lives. I am still happy to be 'cleaning up nice' with this guy after all this time. Here's to more fancy occasions and opportunities to make him look good.

The Last Splash

The Last Splash
Riders Say Goodbye to Kennywood's Log Jammer
By: Kristen Keleschenyi

It was a bittersweet weekend for Kennywood fans as it marked the end of another summer season and the final voyage for the Log Jammer. The powers that be have decided that the ride, installed back in 1975, will be removed to make room for something new. Their decision drove thousands to the park on an unseasonably warm September weekend to board a log one last time and take that plunge into a plume of Monongahela spray .

But for some, the final goodbyes did not go as planned. A number of malfunctions forced the closure of the ride a few times during the weekend causing a flurry of angry, desperate posts on social media. Many were upset that people were not told sooner about this being the final season for the Log Jammer, without a lot of time to enjoy it before it was gone.

Kennywood's Director of Public Relations and Social Media, Nick Paradise, says it has been an ongoing rumor that the ride was going to close. Management has been considering the removal of the ride on and off for years, with fans speculating just when the end would come.  But the decision became official just last week and did allow for many to experience the thrill one last time.

"We thought this weekend would be better than nothing, although I do wonder if the social media backlash would have been not so big had it [the announcement] been in the off season just because people aren't thinking about it as much," said Paradise.

The weekend was set up to be the perfect opportunity for the Vivis family,  from White Oak, to take their final ride. Amber and Walt had already planned to take their boys, Noah, 12, and Brody, 7, to the park with tickets they had to use since it was the final weekend for the season. Amber has fond memories of the ride during childhood summers spent at the park and was sad to hear it would be going away.

"It's been there as long as I can remember, it's one year younger than me so it's the nostalgia part of it that makes you think, 'Oh no, not the Log Jammer.'"

When they first arrived at the park on Saturday, buzz in the parking lot was that the ride was closed. Sure enough when they got into the park they saw for themselves - no line, no logs, no splashes. Later in the afternoon, once the ride reopened, Amber said the line was like nothing she had ever seen before. It didn't seem like the family of four would get their final ride in until around 9 o'clock when the line was a little shorter, so they took a chance. When they were three groups away from hopping on a log, the ride once again had to be shut down.

"All of a sudden you could hear some chattering and the kids working came back and said, 'it's broken. You can wait or you can leave,'" recalls Amber, who was surprised to find out that when the ride is shut down all the water drains out. "I thought there was water in there all the time."

The family waited for a few minutes, hoping the ride would once again be up and running. While watching people, who had been stranded when the ride was shut down, walking down ladders just to get off the ride, they decided to call it a night.

"The kids were disappointed," says Amber, " but I think Walt and I were more disappointed."

Paradise said, "It's a constant process for the maintenance team. These are very sophisticated, complicated  and sometimes sensitive machines. Sensitive I say because safety is so important, even the slightest thing off can trigger it to stop and not go back up until the computer systems say everything is ok."

For a ride like the Log Jammer, 42 years is about the typical life span. Although the wooden coasters have been at the park a lot longer, each year roughly 10 % of the lumber is replaced. Nothing on the coasters dates back to their debut, which for the Racer was 1927.

"It becomes a tough decision. Do you make a massive investment to potentially rebuild the entire ride essentially, or do you look toward the future, and we've decided to do the later."

Paradise would not speculate on what could possibly take the 'Jammer's' space, but does say removing the ride will open up that corner space in a park that is landlocked. In order to put something new in something old has to go, and for a place like Kennywood,  with many historic rides, it is a constant challenge.

Unlike the Vivis family, Melissa Morris, from Swissvale, and her son, Xavier, got their final splash on Sunday. Xavier just started liking roller coasters and fell in love with the Log Jammer.

Xavier says, "I like the big splash at the end."

Melissa laments, " We were really hoping it was going to have another couple of years so he could get used to it before he went on to the Racer or the Jack Rabbit. It's a good middle range ride for a little kid."

Paradise knows and appreciates that Pittsburghers are passionate about the things they love, whether it's their sports teams or their amusement parks.

"While we know it's hard right now, we think ultimately in time people will understand and accept the decision and be happy about what eventually comes in."

Many who have memories of their splashes on the Log Jammer, whether it was their first, last, or ones shared with special people, Melissa says , "This is the most Pittsburgh thing ever. It's this limping, disgusting, ancient ride, but whenever it's time to say goodbye everybody comes out for the wake. We're all here."

No Not Again

Why do we have to talk about this every year? This is a comment I overheard a 15-year-old say to a friend about the upcoming 9/11 lesson in their high school World Cultures class. I was shocked! So many thoughts ran through my head. So many things I wanted to say to those kids who had no clue. But in all fairness, it's not their fault.

Everyone was talking this week about where you were and what you were doing when the events of 9/11 unfolded. My oldest interviewed me for a homework assignment. I gave my personal account of how my traffic reporter job in Virginia was altered because so many tunnels and bridges were shut down as a safety precaution, due to the number of military bases in the area surrounding Virginia Beach. We were basically telling people to stay off the roads. It was scary driving into work for my afternoon shift, staring at my surroundings wondering if the next terrorist target was nearby.

My husband and I attended a wedding on a military base days after the attacks. It was supposed to be a beach wedding, but that particular beach remained closed. The ceremony and reception were done inside with a view of the sand and water and armed guards who lined the shore. The bride was simply happy to be having her wedding at the location at all. Luckily, the non-military personnel restrictions were lifted and guests were allowed on the base.

There are a few things that really stand out for me about September 11, 2001. I remember getting a call at work from my husband telling me he just talked to his dad who lived in Somerset County. He said that a plane went down not far from his home. (This was before the crash of Flight 93 was confirmed.) I was incredulous. I thought it was a random plane, a coincidence, something unrelated to the other events happening in New York and Washington D.C. How could a small town, in rural PA have anything to do with this masterfully crafted terrorist attack? Later that evening, my husband would see people he knew on the national news being interviewed about the crash.

I remember a passionate conversation with my brother, who was 24 at the time, and his desire to sign up for military service. He was ready to kill some terrorists and he wasn't taking any names. He never did sign up, but I did admire him at the time and felt a little proud that he wanted to follow in our dad's footsteps and fight for our country and the freedoms we lost that day.

Exactly one month prior to 9/11, my husband and I went on a cruise. We flew to Georgia then to Ft. Lauderdale to board the ship. We flew without a care in the world - without taking our shoes off, without measuring our shampoo, without personally being x-rayed.

I remember flying back to Norfolk with a couple friends and hearing a bunch of thuds coming from underneath the plane. It was obviously suitcases shuffling around, but it was rather loud. I remember asking what all that noise could be and our one friend said nonchalantly, "It's probably just the plane falling apart." We all had a chuckle, being the cynical bunch we were, never for a second imagining the heartbreaking events that would happen in the sky for real in a few short weeks.

I guess looking back on 9/11 it is easy to see how kids wouldn't want to talk about it each year. It is sad and depressing and not exactly the kind of topic you want to get into only a few weeks after school has begun. And I probably didn't give Dec. 7 the proper attention it deserved when I was in school. If you were not there and did not live through it, it is hard to comprehend the emotion and impact of such devastating events.

But it is important to talk about 9/11 every year. It's a day that shook our nation to its core and it became our A.D. We define things as pre 9/11 or after 9/11. Life changed - even something as simple as listening to the radio changed; as songs deemed violent got less airplay and patriotic numbers increased. Kids need to know this as they will write the book for dealing with their own national crisis some day.

I can only hope the teen who didn't want to talk about the events of 16 years ago took something away from his classroom lesson this week. I, too, wish we didn't have to talk about 9/11 each year, but ignoring these anniversaries, no matter how tragic, would do us all a disservice. For only in knowing where we've been can we have any gratitude for how far we've come.

                                      Postcard from college trip to NY -year 1995

Lucky 13

My daughter is about to turn 13. Thirteen... I can hardly wrap my head around it. As a mom, I think you go into over drive at times and don't dwell on the milestones because they are just plain sad. My kids are not babies anymore and haven't been for a while, but it is those milestones that really drive the point home.

My middle child is the only girl out of my three kids and was a surprise from the beginning. Because my husband and I did not want to find out what we were having, I was convinced she was another boy. The afternoon I went into labor, at a Midwifery Center in Virginia, I had briefly achieved a moment of zen in a jaccuzi hot tub when I frantically said, "Get me outta here. It's time!"

Seconds after my daughter was born, my midwife said, "It's a girl!" and I said, "Are you serious?" Holding my little girl for the first time was a warm moment I will always treasure. Hours later... the crying began. For 9 months she pretty much cried. She had a brief window in the morning where she would be the sweetest baby in the world, but then around 2 p.m. Waa, waa, waaaaaa!

I would rock her and sing songs to her. I even changed up the lyrics of "Daydream Believer" by the Monkees from 'Cheer Up Sleepy Jean' to 'Cheer Up Nora Leigh'. Nothing worked.

Our doctor though it might be a couple different things. Maybe a dairy allergy. So I gave up dairy products while I was breastfeeding. (I never got back into drinking milk but my love affair with cheese certainly intensified.) Then we tried Zantac for possible acid reflux. Her crying lessened slightly, but not as much as we had hoped. We did not go out to restaurants in the afternoon, we limited social activities and when my husband came home on his dinner break, I would join in the crying.

But something happened around nine months that changed everything. She started walking! Her personality shifted from whiney baby to pleasant toddler. She smiled when she woke up. She was rarely sad. She was sunshine and sweetness and it made the months prior melt into a distant memory. I loved this little girl from the start, but I was thankful the tide had changed.

She never was really into dolls growing up and had a slew of favorite stuffed animal friends from a kitty to a turtle to a koala. I think my favorite Halloween costume was at age 4 when she dressed up like Diego, a male cartoon character who saved animals. It didn't matter that he was a boy. She wanted to be an animal rescuer with a backpack and she was the cutest one in town.

Now 13 years later, I look at this confident young lady. She is so much more personable than I was at this age. I was so timid and shy. (Nothing like I am now.) She is not afraid of going out there and getting it done and doing her best. During a recent Tamburitzan performance, part of her costume fell off, but she didn't miss a beat. She danced in her slip and owned it. At her age I would have frozen stiff on the stage unable to move.

Now she is a new member of her school's colorguard squad. Yes, she is tiny but she can twirl a flag like a boss. Even if she only does it for a year, the dedication and determination she has shone would make it worthwhile. Watching her socialize with this group of new and old friends makes my heart happy. I cannot wait to see what she does next.

So as we get ready to celebrate #13, on the same day her great-grandmother passed away eight years prior, I cannot help but feel a little sad. I wouldn't mind holding that miserable baby one more time just to whisper in her ear and tell her all the things she'll do once she stops crying. But instead of thinking about the past I'll try to celebrate all the things this little girl is and how her independence started from the moment she took her first steps. She's been walking toward her future since she put on a little pink pair of Mary Janes with a velcro strap, and has never looked back.

                                                 Nora dressed as Diego for Halloween

Not That Kind Of Corona

I feel badly that one of the things I sometimes find myself saying lately is - the more I'm alive the less I like people. But you get it, right? After 43 years I've seen some things and maybe my tolerance isn't what it used to be. But this week I am happy to say my outlook is different. This week I am filled with love for my fellow man all because of the sun. (Cue George Harrison's guitar intro for "Here Comes The Sun".)

I spent Monday - Eclipse Day - at a couple of community gatherings held to celebrate and embrace the celestial event. I was happy to see so many people show up to participate in the festivities. I did not expect that; one because it fell during a work day and two I thought it was a "nerd" thing.

I can say that because I have always been one of those "nerds". During the partial eclipse of '94, as a college student with a summer office job, I made a paper plate camera I could use to safely view the sun. I tried to entice my adult co-workers to come outside on break with me and check things out, but no one was really into it like me. Plus, we were supposed to be working. There were phones and customers to deal with.

As a middle school student, I remember using my grandfather's old telescope to check out a few lunar eclipses. I would always end up outside in our backyard alone, alone in terms of people, but with plenty of company of the animal variety. After a few owl hoots or rustling in the grass sounds, I would end up going back into the safely of my home.

But this year it was different. I was not alone.  I was able to experience the eclipse with my kids, my sister and her family and people I had never met before. My sister and I stood side by side, decked out in our special glasses - staring at the sun. Folks,  it doesn't get better than that. So many people gathered at the community event we attended and when our kids got bored, they could hit the playground. It was surprisingly a delightful day that allowed many people to take pause and marvel at our world.

What I am most impressed with are the people who took time to plan fun community events. People took time away from their regular jobs dealing with budgets, agendas and bills to create an afternoon of enjoyment for their residents. And this wasn't unique to our area - it happened all over the country. It was especially nice to be among the sun gazers because everyone seemed - happy.

It was an exciting atmosphere where people could enjoy food, fellowship and a view of the eclipse that at one point was almost completely obscured by cloud cover. When it counted, the clouds parted, providing an incredible vantage point for those who were watching with anticipation. There was even a point where some rain drops fell and boy my heart was racing thinking their might be an eclipse and a rainbow.

I am glad that people were able to embrace this amazing event. People of all ages were gathered to be a part of the happening and for me it was, just incredible. I was in awe of the sight I witnessed once I put my NASA approved glasses on. It sure beat my paper plate set up from a few decades ago. Even still, many took time to construct a cereal box camera and one gentleman even allowed me to give it a go!

I hope kids who participated in Monday's eclipse learned a thing or two about our universe and how amazing it is that something so large - the sun - can be dimmed by something much smaller in size - the moon - with a distance of millions of miles separating the two. Maybe now words and phrases like corona, umbra and path of totality, make sense to these young minds who are getting a better dose of STEM (science, technology. engineering and math) in schools these days.

All I know is that I am already planning to flee to the 'Cleve (Cleveland, Ohio) in 2024 for the next solar eclipse. I am going to save the pair of glasses I got this week and instead of the 80% totality we had in Pittsburgh get a 100% dose of corona (not the beer), which is predicted for parts of Ohio and northwest PA. It is going to be a long wait but hey, on Monday smiles returned to faces and once again to invoke Mr. Harrison - it's alright.

                       Nolan and my nephew, Connor, during the Great American Eclipse

It Takes A Village...For Village

This is my favorite time of year and its only in small part because it is my birthday week. The third week of August means International Village in McKeesport. This three day festival, which is in its 58th year, is an ethnic festival featuring foods and entertainment from around the globe. More than a dozen booths line Stephen Barry Field in Renzie Park manned by volunteers selling yummy delights that make your mouth water.

I have been coming to this festival for as long as I can remember. My childhood home is about a five minute ride away. Memories from my youth include getting honey balls from the Greek booth, for my mom, waiting in a huge line at the Croatian booth for lamb, for my dad, and getting a gingerbread man at the English booth, for me.  One of my greatest memories from International Village is when I performed on stage with my church's Carpatho-Rusyn dance group. As a little girl, I loved the way my black patent leather shoes sounded on the wooden stage when we did our lively stomps.

The festival has been around since 1960 when it started as a 10 day event called Old Home Week. It began as a celebration of McKeesport history. And although that is no longer the focus, there is a lot to celebrate about McKeesport, despite what you hear on the news. There are many great people who were born and raised in the 'Port, as we natives lovingly call it, many of whom come back for this annual August event.

I am not sure how many new guests come to Renzie Park each year to try out this awesome event, but I do know how many people I run into while I am there that keeps the Old Home Week tradition alive. I have seen former teachers, friends from my old neighborhood, former childhood crushes - it is a walk back in time and it will always be something I treasure. It is nice to catch up, even if just for a few minutes, and then move on to get your favorite ethnic delight.

Many of the booths are run by churches, temples or social organizations in the area. These groups enlist a number of volunteers to sell food to benefit their organization. Because participating in International Village is a lot of work, and a lot of people are needed to make it a success, sometimes organizations drop out. Then, a small part of that consistency and familiarity, those of us who keep coming back expect,  is gone.

I am sad to report that a few years ago the English Booth went away - no more gingerbread men - and we also lost the German Booth - no more German Chocolate Cake- but there have been a number of new additions to fill the void. All I know is that my Greek booth is still going strong and I can count on my usual 'Super Gyro' and baklava plus, my mom still gets the honey balls.

So it seems it was written in the stars that I would eventually find myself more intimately involved in Village. My children's Tamburitzan group has run the Slovak booth for a number of years. The kids also perform on the first night of the event. It truly is a full circle moment to see my kids on the stage I was once on many moons ago. It makes me proud to share a part of my past with them and who knows, one day they might bring their families to McKeesport to experience the magic.

Being a volunteer is a labor of love for sure. Many come from work to put in a few hours. Some take time off from work in order to volunteer, and some even help make the food which is served. Many parents in our group spent the past weekend making dough for the ceregi we will fry up fresh each night. These little donuts taste amazing, but the couple minutes in an oil bath does not represent what happened prior to the dip. It is great to keep these traditions alive, from whatever ethnic group you represent,  in the hopes of making a nice profit to keep your organization in the black.

Unfortunately the weather plays a big part. Last year, storms sent people away and kept people away for the first two nights. It was disappointing, but out of our hands.  Hopefully as you are reading this, we will have had a few dry days in anticipation of our final night tonight, Thursday, August. 17.

It takes a village to keep International Village going each year. I am proud to be part of this festival. And each year on the final night as hundreds of volunteers, representing many nationalities, religions and clubs, tear down the dozen or so food booths and put a cap on three days of hard work - it is always nice to hear these sweet parting words - see you next year!

    Tammy Parents putting the Slovak booth together.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

There is nothing like a good dose of nature to put things in perspective. Right now my family and I are in the midst of a prolific journey watching an egg hatch into a caterpillar and then watching that caterpillar turn into a butterfly - a monarch's tale. This is something I learned to appreciate when I was a little kid and luckily I've been able to pass the tradition onto my kids who hopefully will do the same.

I was probably about 8 or 9 when I raised my first butterfly. Our babysitter at the time took my brother, sister and I for a walk and pointed out milkweed plants. They looked like ordinary weeds to me, but the underside of the plant's leaves possibly held a secret - a tiny little white bump that contained a teeny, tiny caterpillar. A tiny guy that would make a most amazing transformation from fat stripey wiggler to magnificent winged butterfly.

My babysitter's dad was a biology teacher. I never had the opportunity to have him in class, but I am guessing he played some part in me having this unique experience. And it truly is a unique experience. It makes me confident in my belief that there is something bigger out there who had a hand in creating this great world we live in. In the United States alone there are 750 species of butterflies - worldwide there are more than 17,000!

If I was creating a species I might make at least three but less than ten. I am not sure where you stand on this but I am confident that the number 17,000  (17,500 to be almost exact) would not be your target number either. But this number gets even more staggering when you try to wrap your head around the insect family, which butterflies are a part of. It is estimated that more than 900 thousand insect species exist in the world. And that number might be a conservative guess according to a Smithsonian Encyclopedia website. We could be talking 30 million.

So yeah, I've bored you with some figures but only to illustrate my point. All these beautiful butterflies cannot be random.  Plus, the process of changing from caterpillar to butterfly includes a period of time when the caterpillar is wrapped in a cocoon. I don't know what is happening in there (which is what is currently happening in our special container right now) but it is a little weird. The monarch caterpillar hangs upside down making a letter "J" and its white, black and yellow striped body (cue the Wiz Kalifa jam) turns into a green pod with gold trim. Random - I don't think so.

The cocoon will eventually turn black as the butterfly prepares to emerge. Once it does, it's orange and black wings are wet and need to dry. This is the part I did not like so much when I first raised a butterfly. I was supposed to put my hand in the jar so it would climb aboard my arm to finally take flight. I did not want a "bug" crawling on my arm so I laid the jar down sideways on the porch so it could find its way out. Yes, I was chicken and I regret that, but luckily my kids do not mind getting right in there. The moments I have caught on camera with a butterfly on their little arms are precious.

They fly away and although it is sad to see them go, the butterfly has work to do. Within a few weeks, our butterfly will lay eggs on milkweed plants somewhere in the south. Those eggs will hatch and eventually complete a four generation cycle (completed in one year) that will wind up flying to Mexico. Our butterfly will not live long but will have done its job to keep its species alive.

So now is where you thank me for the biology lesson. You're welcome. But seriously, nature is amazing when you stop to think about it. We take for granted these little beauties of nature. Unless someone would have taken the time to show me this wonder up close and personal - (decades ago), I never would have known the backstory. So thank you, Carol wherever you are. After all these years the fascination with monarch butterflies continues.

Beyond The Sea

Have you ever lost something that is irreplaceable? Like perhaps, a wedding band? Well, I have - sixteen years ago this month to be exact. It wasn't in a house, the yard or the garbage - a place you could really search. I lost the ring in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Sandbridge, Virginia.

My husband and I were living and working not far from there. We were two years into our marriage and did not have kids yet.  My family had rented a house so everyone could come down from PGH to celebrate my sister's 21st birthday at the beach.

Being adventurous and kinda still newlyweds we decided to take an ocean kayak for a spin. Before entering the water I realized I had forgotten to leave my wedding band back at the house. I thought about leaving it on the blanket, but I remembered a story my mom had told about her sister losing a ring at the beach. I decided wearing the ring into the ocean was the safer option.

Skipper and Gilligan (I mean my husband and I) took to the high seas armed with our paddles ready to bond with aquatica. Just as we met the first wave our kayak tipped over sending us into a blue green bath. While I was underwater I felt my ring slip off my finger. I tried to step on it thinking I could retrieve it, but my hand only captured pieces of shells.

I frantically called for help and many came to my aid. Family, strangers, beach goers of all races and creeds looked for a glimpse of silver while I caused a major scene on shore. I certainly would have given Halle Berry or Dame Judy Dench some stiff competition during the Oscar run of 2002.   The search for the ring stretched into the late afternoon. Even people with metal detectors tried to lend a hand, but even novenas to St. Anthony could not help locate what Nemo probably ate.

The worst part of this story is that the ring was originally my mother's. She and my dad had picked out gorgeous silver bands when they were united by a justice of the peace back in 1973. They upgraded to gold when they got married in the church in 1985. My parents held onto their silver set and allowed my husband and I the privilege of using them when we got married in 1999.

As you can see the ring cannot be replaced, but not for lack of trying. Internet searches, flea markets, antique and jewelry stores have not turned up anything even close. But 16 years later, I still have not given up hope that my ring will return to me. For the past couple of years, my family has rented a house around the corner from where we stayed back in 2001. I have continued my search - during low tide, while standing in shallow water or while taking walks on the beach. Now don't get me wrong, I am not wasting lots of vacation time looking for my ring. (I do have to get some tanning in to help obscure the spider vanes on my legs for a few months.)

This past week I was on the hunt again and even enlisted the help of a fellow beach-goer who had constructed a sifter box to help catch crabs. I explained my story and simply stated, "If you find a silver band - it's mine." As someone who also had the experience of losing a wedding ring, I truly believe he would have given it to me if he found it.

My family thinks I am a joker short of a deck, but there have been unbelievable stories on the news of people returning long lost items to people. But a part of me is at peace with the fact that my ring calls the ocean home. I have been going on beach vacations since I was a baby.  I truly love going to the beach - the sounds, the sights and the feel of sand on my feet. With my ring lost at sea - a part of me is always on vacation.

                                      Mom and Dad's silver wedding bands circa March 1973

Workin' For A Livin'

Sometimes ordinary mundane situations have extraordinary outcomes. That was the case this week when my almost 15-year-old son was cutting our grass.

Watching him mow the lawn is often a painful experience. He has one speed - slow - and his method of mowing is unlike anything I've ever seen before. Each time he cuts the grass it looks like he is going to pass out from exhaustion, and that is after only five minutes. He will often leave a section uncut and forget our instructions in his teenage attempt to just get the job done. But earlier this week, somehow his lawn prowess earned him a job. His first actual J-O-B.

He has been trying to get us to pay him for mowing the entire lawn. Our yard is a lot and a half, so while we are not talking about tons of acreage, the job is not an easy one. (I know because I've done it.)  We have been reluctant to pay him for something he should do as part of our family, but I also know he needs some spending cash. We have been encouraging him to look for jobs close to home but nothing has worked out which meets our criteria: minimal activity, not many hours, preferably within walking distance, and did I mention minimal exertion?

When he was cutting our grass this week one of our neighbors came out to talk to him. This neighbor is the kind that is curious when things are happening around him and likes to ask questions. I noticed the two speaking and wondered what was up. I could not hear the conversation because my son did not turn off the mower during the encounter, which gave my husband and I a chuckle. Much like the conversation between Jack Butler, armed with a running chain saw, and Ron Richardson in the 80's classic "Mr. Mom".

A short time afterward, my son entered the house and told us he was asked to cut the neighbor's grass and they would work out the details later. I cannot really describe the emotions that accompanied this news - excitement, pride, happiness, fear, anxiety, dread. Yes, that is a wide range, but as a parent of a motivationally challenged individual I have reason for concern.

I know this is a different time and comparing my son to myself at his age is like apples and kiwi, but seriously, by the time I was 14 I had three jobs. I wanted to have my own money and be independent. I babysat, had a paper route and worked at my church's bingo. I remember items that I bought myself that filled me with a sense of pride: my Debbie Gibson black hat, my first Walkman and a stylish turquoise winter coat with shoulder pads. I was employed and lookin' good. (A perm and braces capped off the look, of course.)

In my son's defense, only one of my previous jobs is currently available to him. Adults in cars drop off whatever papers are still being home delivered and most churches no longer have weekly bingo events. Babysitting may not be a good option either since boys don't have the same mother hen instinct as girls and my son once went half a day without getting himself something to drink.

This job opportunity is a chance to show us and the world that all hope is not lost. Can this member of Generation Z put down his tablet and phone and get the job done? I know his "employer" has set up very strict parameters for what he expects to be done. Have we instilled a work ethic in our son to rise to the occasion, make us proud and earn his pay? Seriously, I don't know. Personally, it doesn't look good. But every now and then my son surprises me.

I know it's only a grass cutting, but this has the potential to teach him some valuable lessons about having and keeping a job. And although the material goods of today don't spark as much motivation as the Dirty Dancing Soundtrack or Swatch Watch of the 80's, maybe something will light a fire inside him to want to do his best and experience the feeling of purchasing a coveted item with money he earned. Or maybe he will be satisfied with hearing the words "Good job kid" and the self-esteem boost that comes with being recognized for a job well done.

Stay tuned. This adventure starts soon.

Is Your Band Ready?

I am a McKeesport High School Tiger Band alumni. I have mentioned this before. I am very proud of my affiliation with that organization. The three years I spent in the band, playing my trusty clarinet, were the best of times and the worst of times. They were tough years, they were fun years, they were informative years, and at the time I didn't even know it.

I was a late comer to the band show. I came into 9th grade from Catholic school and had only picked up the clarinet in my 8th grade year. I had piano experience so the clarinet, with only one clef, was a breeze to pick up, but my instructor thought it best to take JV Band initially and make the transition to varsity in my sophomore year.

I was in the JV group with a few other students under the direction of band director Karen Donaldson. We had to walk between North Hall and South Hall, outside between the two buildings, to take this class. Miss D, as she was called, told me that I should have been in the varsity band but, nevertheless, she would work with us on the music we would have to play for an audition.  From the beginning, I could tell she was tough. She did not mess around and expected 110% from everyone, even us JV kids.

I loved when the upperclassmen came in to visit. Sometimes they would hang out in her office and chat and I longed to be cool enough to be in her circle. Miss D had a great sense of humor underneath her tough exterior and to make her laugh was an accomplishment.

I remember seeing the Tiger Band perform the year before I was officially a member. I remember the sounds, I remember the sights, I remember the excitement I felt when I heard them play "How Do You Keep The Music Playing." At the climax of the song the entire band was standing in a straight line slowly marching down the field. I met my destiny and it would be a long nine months before I would walk on the field as a member of this amazing group.

What I didn't expect was the time, the effort and the dedication that would go into this endeavor. The hours of practice, the memorization, the discipline it would take to live up to the standards set by Miss D. She did not want a mediocre band, she wanted an awesome band. But as long as we each performed at our personal best, it didn't matter if we got a first place trophy or a third, she wanted us to live up to our potential.

Yes, sometimes that meant having our name called out over a megaphone when we made a mistake during practice. Yes, that meant running through a song again on a 90+ degree day even when the sweat was pouring off of our foreheads and we wanted to quit. Yes, that meant being held accountable when we did not meet her standard of excellence.

Those lessons prepared me well for life in the post high school world. It takes a special kind of person to instill those precepts in kids that are just figuring out who they are and have no idea where life will take them. I believe she genuinely cared about each one of us and wanted us to succeed. I kind of flew under the radar in our 100 member band. I was quiet and shy and was not among the popular crowd, but I worked hard. I participated in a couple award winning years and I remember being just points away from being in the top ten once when we performed in the regional championships in Morgantown, W.V.

We had winning years and not so winning years but "We Are The Champions" by Queen, was always our anthem. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose, but if we did our best we knew we could still hold our heads high. To this day when I hear that song I think of her and I know that yes, I will keep fighting to the end.

Miss D passed away last week. I am grateful that I had the chance to thank her for her positive influence in my life. I can only hope as my daughter begins her journey as a member of her high school band, she will have a wonderful leader who will motivate, guide and inspire her to be the very best she can be on and off the field.

Us Girls Can Still Rock

Five months ago I wrote about the concert tickets that my high school friend and I bought for a show in June at Heinz Field.  Twenty weeks zipped by in the blink of an eye and our night to relive our teenage years was last Wednesday. In August of 1992, we enjoyed the music of Irish rock group U2 at Three Rivers Stadium. Twenty-five years later, the Steelers current home turf set the stage for a show to end all shows.

The first time around, my friend's brother drove us to the show. He was willing to be our ride in the hopes of getting a concert t-shirt. We did not deliver though, as we were poor, soon to be, college students.  This time around I drove us Downtown and public transportation (the T) got us to the North Shore.

Each time we crossed a hurdle, I breathed a sigh of relief. Getting into the city without a lot of Parkway traffic - exhale. Find a place to park - exhale. Get on the right T car - exhale. Everything was coming up aces for us fortysomethings. Until we had to make a stop at the resolution tent.

Extra security measures were in place for the show. I'm not sure this had anything to do with the recent terrorist attack after a concert in England. The credit card you bought the tickets with had to be presented for entry. Plus, your entire party had to be together in order to get in. Neither of these were an issue for us, but we went in a gate that was meant for people who were standing on the floor not sitting in one of the upper levels.

Two very nice gentlemen helped us resolve the issue quickly. I was worried that after recent events the heightened security would create a tense atmosphere but that was not the case. Although there were a lot of people working to keep anything from going awry, their mission did not compromise our enjoyment.

We had left for the concert early and boy did it pay off. We were in the venue a half hour before the opening band and had plenty of time to eat, get t-shirts and walk three levels searching for the only wine kiosk in the joint.

Of course all of that walking caused us to work up an appetite. We settled on nachos - one of our ol' teenage staples. When we were in high school, she and I once spent an entire Pirates game eating nachos and talking. We left the game not knowing who the Buccos had played and who ultimately won, but we didn't care. Fun was had just by simply being together - the rest was all just white noise.

Just before U2 took to the stage, a rainbow appeared to the left of the Heinz Ketchup bottle, which proved to be a great photo op for many fans - some wondering if lead singer Bono himself worked out a deal with God to give the night His blessing.

Once the music started, we did not sit. Everyone stood for three hours, and to tell you the truth, there was no other way to enjoy to the show. It was neat to observe the other concert goers who probably had been looking forward to the night just as much as my friend and I were. Everyone had their own story - the family of four in front of us with their teenage children, the young family on the floor equipped with earplugs and bottles in backpacks to keep their little ones hydrated . No matter the story - for those two hours we were all one - all connected through the power of music.

Getting home proved a little tricky. Walking among a throng of people to the T station we yielded to the advice of the traffic cop screaming to "stay on the sidewalk".  My friend and I held hands and linked arms to prevent being separated. Fast-forward about 30 years - we joked about being old ladies relying on each other to get safely across the street. All in all it was an organized, peaceful exit but with watchful eye I looked for anything suspicious - as we do live in crazy times.

We boarded a packed T car and ended up missing our stop, but found a helpful couple who explained how we could get to where we needed to be. I was disappointed in my one misstep, but was pleased it was an easy fix. We also found another lady who made our same mistake.

The night ended shortly after 1 a.m. Twenty-five years ago I might have been too excited to sleep but not now. My friend and I earned a good night's rest.  But I am pretty sure I wore the same thing to bed as I did after my first U2 show in '92. My concert t-shirt was the only suitable option for a rocker like me.