How does the word “fire” affect you?  Scary?

It really is one of the most feared of English words. You know you can shout the word and people will scramble without having to ask where, what, now?

First, we are OK.   But, California is not.  It is burning with wild fires, mostly nature caused but some man made.  Either way, it is not pretty and the fires must be extinguished as quickly as humanly possible.  Meantime, there is a whole lot of devastation going on in this state.

Our website fans know we have a home in Santa Barbara and we have a vacation home near Yosemite, in Mariposa, CA.    Incredibly, both homes are in harm’s way of massive fires at the same time.    Did you say evacuate the SB home?  Ok, but where do we go if not to Mariposa?   The irony! 

So, we sit in SB, two vehicles ‘packed and ready’ to leave our home at a moment’s notice from the Firefighters and we  pray for those brave, hardworking men and women who risk life and limb to save our lives and hopefully, our homes. 

The reality of ‘moving out’ hits and you think you are in control.  I have personally been ‘ready’ since 1990 when the Painted Cave fire devastated a lot of Santa Barbara.  I have had bags packed for 18 years.  But the moment they started to go into the car, you come to instantly know in your heart that you are saying good-bye to your house, your things and after only 5 minutes of that frivolous thinking, it is OVER.  And that is because you know that your life and the lives of those whom you love are more important than anything material could ever be.  So, with documents in hand, necessary medications, water and snacks, I am at peace knowing my husband and I will be fine, just fine.

*Mariposa house shown and safe.

**SB remains cautiously optimistic as of July 7, 2008 

STEPHANIE:

On Saturday May 24, 2008, this intelligent and beautiful young lady, 24, received her ”Pin” and her Diploma which certifies that she, Stephanie, is now among the many who have gone before her in one of the most prestigious of professions.  A Registered Nurse.  Clara Barton and Florence Nightingale would be very happy.

Just what is so special about Stephanie?  She never wanted to be a nurse while growing up.  She watched her mother working very hard as a nurse for 40 years who still continues in her profession.  Her grandmother, whom she is close to, was also a hard-working nurse until retirement.  Her great grandmother was a nurse whom Stephanie learned about from her Mother and Grandparents.  And… her maternal Grandfather is a retired Physician, now in his nineties.

Stephanie’s medical interests were sparked in high school while learning emergency care and working with injured athletes in physical therapy.  Having heard the downsides of nursing while growing up,  Steph saw her Mom very tired after her 12 hour hospital shifts and then she had to go on Missions of Mercy with her insistent mother (who gave up vacation time) to help in disasters such as Hurricane Katrina.

I met Stephanie after she completed her college pre-reqs and was wait-listed for the Nursing program for two years.  I was horrified to learn of the Nursing Staff Instructor shortage througout the country.   The country is already aware of the severe nursing shortage.  Not from Santa Barbara, Steph came here from northern CA to attend school.  While wait-listed, I took her under my wing determined to somehow get her working in her chosen field as a medical assistant somewhere in SB.  Success.   So, to have 5 years fly by, it is with great pride to see Stephanie graduate with honors and to continue her medical profession but now as a Registered Nurse.  She will have her choice of positions here in SB and will be able to go anywhere in the country (or elsewhere) to practice nursing while continuing her education for a higher degree.

In her personal life, Stephanie recently became engaged to be married to her long time best friend and love, Dan.  Graduating as an Electrical Engineer at UCSB in 2007, he has completed his first year working in a very good company in his chosen profession which he really loves.  Both Stephanie and Dan have worked very hard getting through schools while working at the same time to support themselves.   They are the rare couple today who now have the world by a string and the future for them is extremely bright.  I am proud to know both of them.  They are role models for all young people who come from small communities who can and will work hard to achieve their goals.  They have no fear, wonderful family values, very traditional and extremly nice people.  They really have their heads on straight.  Good for them and all those you know who are like them.

If you were a child living in a less than warm climate, how many times would you hear your mother asking, “WHERE IS YOUR HAT?” 

With me personally, it was always the  ‘outside’ hat and then it was the SUNDAY hat we females had to wear to Church.

I never understood the ‘old timers’ wearing hats all the time, everywhere. I would spend an hour fixing my hair only to sit a ‘hat’ on top of my nicely styled do?  No Way. I loved the breeze blowing and tossing my curls.  And the Queen of England’s hats?  A constant source of amusement for me.

Vintage movies employed ‘tricks’ showing a perfectly coiffed Grace Kelly removing her hat in the film “Rear Window” when she visited the wheel-chair bound Jimmy Stewart. As kids, we did not know about the ‘cut’ in a film. 

Growing up and escaping my mother’s “Where is your Hat” (while my brothers escaped, “Where is your Sweater?”) I simply moved from one coast to another where I would be warm and not have to ever think about a hat again. 

About a decade of peace and quiet regarding hats came and went so quickly I was stunned one day to hear, “Where is your Hat?”  My husband took my mother’s place with that demand regularly when we began spending a lot of time in the cold climate of Yosemite National Park every Winter.  I always shrug off the inquiry.  My husband is not my mother.

Married for 32 years now, we have been traveling to National Parks to take photos, adding to our extensive Yosemite National Park photos for our website.  Last year, we made it to Zion, Bryce, Yellowstone and Grand Teton.   We were very happy with the trip and the ‘captures.’  We were so taken with the Grand Tetons, we vowed to return this year to spend a longer period of time there in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

We departed for JH in time to see the Fall peaking of the foliage and hoped to get a dusting of snow on the Tetons as well.  We truly lucked out with both.  Landscape Photography is my husband’s fascination; not exactly my cup of tea, but I will join him from time to time.  This year we met with a group of pros so it was imperative to begin shooting at sunrise when the temperature would be as low as 20 degrees at that hour but warming to 70 degrees later in the day.

Day two was the first ‘cold’ day for me and I was really shocked to feel what I will describe as an “ice cream freeze” to my entire head.  Wow!  I had never felt wind chill nor felt cold to the core of my brain.  No hat.  It was in the car keeping the seat warm.

The next day, I had TWO hats with me.  I was amazed how much a hat helped keep me warm.  I own 3 hats; that is all.   They are acceptable rather than annoying.  And, they’re fairly fashionable.  One is totally utilitarian for taking photos in below freezing temperatures.

After the fourth day, we were done with the group and I no longer had to contend with the cold so the hats were left in our hotel room.  (Or so I thought.)  I knew where I left them last and believed them to be sitting on the bedroom upholstered chair and never gave it another thought for the balance of our two week visit until the night before we were to depart for home.  Mental inventory told me I had not seen the hats of late so I went to the bedroom chair and the hats were not there.  I then tore the 2 bedroom hotel condominium suite apart.  Then I enlisted the aid of my husband who is a great sleuth for all things misplaced by me in my advancing years.  Don’t turn 40; nor 50… that’s as far as I’m going.

Well.  No hats turned up.  I resigned myself to having to purchase one of the two but was horrified at having lost the other; my Black, NIKON D200, baseball style hat given to me as schwag by my camera guru in SB.  I was crushed just thinking about reporting my loss as I KNOW they are difficult to come by.  Not only that, but they are a status symbol in my little world and I was the envy of the ‘men’ who coveted my hat.

Well, I decided to cheer myself up by going down to the bar for our last night of Pizza made incredibly well in JH as it compared favorably to all the New York Pizzas I brag about no matter where I see a ‘pizza’ sign.  I realized I was preoccupied because I ‘ordered up’ a second pizza which I managed to eat in its entirety.  Another ‘new’ thing for me.  Depression eating for the first time.  Over a hat.  Wow. 

I stopped at the Concierge desk to ask them about their “Lost and Found.”  They more than encouraged me to be sure to notify the front desk upon check-out of my lost items. Of course I forgot….  But not for long.  One-half hour down the road, I called the Hotel and spoke to Kevin.  I told him my plight and said, “They are not valuable but I love them and described one as a soft, black warm hat with white trim and the words “Yosemite” in white on front.  The second I said, “Black baseball cap with “D200” in gold on front and “Nikon” on back.”  I told Kevin to please check the laundry because I saw the maids pile pillows on the chair when they were cleaning our place, exactly where I had last seen my hats

We arrived home after driving straight for 17.45 hours and went to sleep.  When I finally woke in the afternoon, my husband excitedly came to sit with me while I sipped my morning tea and said, “They Found the Hats!” 

I was thrilled and asked, “How, Where?”

He said, “The Bellman saw the Maid walking in the parking lot wearing my warm Yosemite Hat and her boyfriend had the D200 Baseball Cap on backwards!”

When asked where they were going, the Maid said, “I found these hats in one of the suites yesterday and was just going to turn them into the lost and found!”

©MTC108

My Friend Jim…

What is a Eulogy?  Who gets to talk about a loved one on his or her departure from this earth?  I always noticed an “outside the family person” was invited to talk lovingly and who poured on accolades about the deceased.  How did that become a way of life for the living in saying goodbye? I wanted to talk about MY father…and so I broke with tradition and started a trend in my circle of family and friends.   But now,  I am the one outside the family because I have something to say.

My dear friend Jim was the wisest man I have ever met and I had the absolute privilege of being his friend.  He had a lot of friends and I knew why.  Again, he was WISE.  I do not hear about people aspiring to be ‘wise.’  I know people pray for wisdom.   I do not believe wisdom is something you are born with, thus it has to be achieved and it occurs through life experiences.  I wonder if the wise person knows he/she is wise.  What I do know is that I have sought out the wisdom in all people I admired or thought highly about but rarely found it.   In Jim, it was almost written on his very wise and beautiful face.

Why do I write about Jim here on our website?  Because, ‘Wise Jim’ encouraged my husband and me for years to do everything our hearts desire while living on this planet. While working and toiling for our daily bread, Jim and his lovely wife, Betz, would sit across from us in a lunch booth weekly to talk and to share their experiences with us.  We absorbed everything like a sponge.  Yes, they were older than us and we have been friends for almost 30 years.  I can’t imagine not having them in my life. 

Jim loved Chuck’s photography which goes back to childhood and often Jim would suggest that Chuck market or at least share his gift.  Once this website was born, Jim was delighted and he became our Critic in Chief.  It amazed me how he would analyze a photo over a week or even a two week period and then give a complete interpretation along with the ultimate praise.  He was not gratuitous.  He was honest.  If he was not moved by something, he would tell us and why.

Jim left this earthly realm February 20th and there is now a void that will not be replaced in my heart.  I was a greatful recipient of Jim’s wisdom for so long, we shared many things and we wrote to each other weekly after he and Betz retired and moved out of our state.  I am happy he spent two years as our Photo Critic on the website and we will miss his comments, his awe, his honest evaluation of everything we did.  We are sad he is gone but he will always have a ‘place’ on this website.  We will dedicate a photo to him in our Portfolio where his many other friends can enjoy our dedication to his memory. The outpouring of love and friendship brought friends of all ages from far and wide, many elderly, to say good-bye to, whom all agreed at the services, a Very Wise and loving man.   My friend, Jim.

At what age do people finally lose their cool and just scream at the television set, turn it off, do the same with radio -  all because every item of food we attempt to pleasantly enjoy eating is now deemed a ‘killer’ of humans and our demise is imminent.

We each have our favorite foods, having grown up with them, stuffed things in our mouths for at least half our lives and suddenly the very items that are about 50% of our dietary ‘needs’ are on the hit list to be banned from our lives forever.

I’m not talking about “fast foods” that came after my teen years, thus I was not addicted to the drive-through burger joints.  My youth was filled with ‘drive-up-car-hop’ service where food is one feature. The other was meeting up with friends and enjoying an evening out with a date or just a group of pals.

“Where’s the Beef?”  A tag line for a famous burger commercial has now become a reality as we are told that “BEEF” is not good for our bodies.  Too much fat, raises cholesterol which clogs your arteries and you die.  If lucky, you could have a quadruple by-pass surgery and survive another 10 years eating lettuce. 

Today, it is much easier to see a Nutritionist and ask:  “What CAN I eat?”  Just get it over with and once you know the rules of what, when, and how much, you then make an intelligent decision and just say, “Screw It.”

I was already sick of hearing the warnings even though I personally did not eat ‘junk food,’ was not ever a ‘chocoholic’ and I felt for the people who had weight problems since I never did.  However, one day I became seriously ill with the end result of medicinal side effects leading me directly to a Nutritionist who was the only professional who could help me get well.  I weighed all of 90 pounds and could not eat anything.

That day I became an authority in my own right on good and bad food for the body if one is ill, but for the healthy I did not see one redeeming value to starving and being miserable.  It took two years of eating ‘cardboard’ rice cakes before the food chain started to put flavor in them.  I did not know what bread looked like let alone remember how good it tasted.  Nothing white.  Totally Gluten (and taste) free.

I did well on this ‘medical’ diet and got myself back into good health and gained 30 pounds.  I had a body again and I began to introduce the foods I loved back into my diet such as a baked potato… with butter.   And so it went.  Little by little I was eating my preferred meals from childhood and continued not to enjoy junk food.

One day, the government decided to tell the American People that they are OBESE!  Sure enough, committees were set up and now every kind of rule and regulation was about to be implemented to get ‘we the people’ in shape by curbing our appetite for junk food. That kind of put me over the edge.  That evening, my husband and I were taking a nice young couple out  to a favorite café for dinner.  The young woman is now in her last 3 months of nursing school and I have always noticed that the couple eats sensibly with good nutritious meals as my husband and I generally try to do ourselves.  We have shared recipes for quick meals after a hard day at school and work.

Having totally forgotten the earlier ‘obesity’ news of the day, I excused myself to trek to the rest room; and, as I had done many times in the past at this café, I waltzed slowly past the large glass dessert case and once again looked closely at the “Mile High Chocolate Fudge Cake.”  It had 8 thick layers, uncut and fresh, tempting the chocolate lovers.  I always wondered at the exact height which looked to be nearly a foot tall.

Returning to the table, our empty dinner plates had been whisked away, and once I was seated, I announced, “I want a big piece of that decadent-looking chocolate cake I have admired for at least 3 years.  My companions looked at me as if I had lost my mind but I was dead serious and I convinced them we should order two slices as I intended to eat at least one half of that piece of cake right then and there.  The young man protested that he did not like, nor eat chocolate.  I said that I did not eat chocolate either but “tonight is the night” so he agreed.  My husband, an admitted repository for junk food, was the only person not objecting to this indulgence.

When the cake arrived, one normal slice covered a full-sized dinner plate and could easily have fed four people more than comfortably.  Extra plates were set out and I proceeded to cut ½ of my cake to pass to my husband; our friends did likewise.

OH MY…………  My mouth could not believe what it was tasting.  I never had anything that tasted so delicious, so fresh, so creamy, so moist and so wonderful in my adult life. I slowly savored every inch of that cake and never said a word.  I was in chocolate decadence heaven.  What, I thought, had I been missing all these years?  At least three for sure.  I can only assume the others were enjoying their cake as no one said a word until we had almost ‘licked the plates’ clean of the fudge that was still clinging to them.

Finally, all of us just breathed heavily and agreed that it was the most wonderful dessert any of us had ever had and the experience alone was worth the price of a chocolate headache, if one should occur.

Well, I must confess from that day forward for two full years until the day the café closed, we went there weekly for a very light meal and a huge piece of that Mile High Cake.  Everyone in the café knew how we wanted it served, when to cut it and how long to let it ‘sit’ before serving it to us.  And, they also knew that no matter who was at dinner, we would each have our own slice of cake, ½ or more of which was taken home for completion when hunger struck.

The café has been closed now for a year and I lost the few pounds I gained from the 2 year ritual and only a week ago, the same young couple, my husband and I were dining at a new restaurant and the young man said to me, “You know, lately I have been having cravings for chocolate and I never ate it in my life until you introduced me to that Mile High Cake and now, where in the world can we find it again?”

I happily take the blame.  I realized over the two years of pure joy that people have fallen into the trap of guilt put on them by the marketing genius taken up by the “food police” telling us what to eat and what not to eat.  Oh, most people will ignore the warnings but they sure did lose the joy of indulging because of guilt.

Sharing this story with some great like-mindeds, we have determined that there is a real  NEED for an establishment in our community as well as every other community in this country to serve only JUNK FOOD.  The decadent JUNK FOOD. The Junkier, the better.  Indulge yourself once a week and the other 6 days you can THINK about eating greens, veggies, and fruit!

WISHING ALL A HAPPY AND PROSPEROUS 2008!

Marie and Chuck

This is the first time since 1984 that my husband did not get to wear his Tuxedo to ring in the New Year at the stroke of midnight.  It was definitely a weird feeling not to be dressed to the ‘nines’ and out partying ala Times Square; only indoors with great food, adult beverages and a world class band playing everything except hip hop and rap music.

 
Together, we have had 30 of the best New Years Eve celebrations with combo of friends, sometimes a family member or two at most, and have barely gone to bed before sun-up.   New Years day always spent in Jammies, dogging around the house, a lot of couch time with football games on for the background noise.  Food is mostly junk items all day long having pre-stocked the larders and refrige for every possible craving.

 
I have no clue how to explain the differences between people who party on New Year’s Eve and those who just stay at home.  I cannot understand the stay at home crowd at all as I was born to celebrate a brand new year.  

 
My two brothers and I, as babes, were awakened from our little beds at 11:45 pm every December 31st by Mom and Dad to take to the streets with noise makers in hand, joining the entire neighborhood doing the same.  Then for hours, families visited each other’s homes to share an adult beverage to toast the New Year. Everyone shouted “Happy New Year” over and over.  People genuinely wished each other well and lots of prosperity.

 
As we grew up, my goal was to find the best venue for December 31st and the right group to be with for the celebration.  Older of the two brothers was a reveler as well and we always found each other at midnight no matter our locations to wish each other Happy New Year.  The younger of the brothers is a stay-at-home guy.  I never asked why but he did have a little girl so assumed that is what he and his wife chose to do. 

 
As it turns out, many years later, younger brother and I were dining with a visiting cousin from out of state.   During the conversation, including childhood memories, he revealed to us his angst his entire life regarding New Years Eve celebration.  Cousin and I were absolutely stunned.  Brother finally revealed something he has held in since the young age of  8 years old.  He hated New Years Eve.  Why?

 
Our family, together with the cousin’s family,  was extremely close and spent all holidays together.  They lived in New York; we lived in New Jersey – a mere 35 miles door to door.  There were 3 children in each family and younger brother had the unfortunate luck (I guess) of being the ‘baby’ and could not always participate in the activities of the older 5.   In this instance, the 5 of us from ages 12 to 18 went to Times Square, with no adults, every New Years Eve.  Obviously we had a wonderful time and a great tradition.  We stayed out all night long.  We would go to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to attend the first Mass at 6 a.m.  Then we would go out and have a sumptuous breakfast and finally end up at The Brooklyn Paramount Theater to see the annual Alan Freed Rock and Roll Show.   This was the mid 50’s and we saw all the stars we loved and whose records we owned.  It was the best of times for us and when the show was over, we would return to the New York family home and go to bed for a few hours to get rested for the big family dinner that evening. 

 
Our Parents?   They were together, with younger brother, and all the adult relatives and friends who had their own party and they, too, stayed up most of the night  (including Grandma.)  She would celebrate with some blackberry brandy while cooking the big meal with our Aunt and Mom. 

 
I knew we had a glorious upbringing but did not know the younger brother was so annoyed by that one thing and carried it inside him for so long.   Now that we are aged adults, I finally understand why HE is a stay-at-homer but I do hope that no one had such an experience as to deprive themselves of a tradition that has continued to grow to such proportions as to be televised from countries all over the world on each and every December 31st.

This year, I jokingly emailed a special New Years Eve letter to my brother because I was not out, but not at home either.  I said, “Gee, I wish I was in Times Square right now just to tick you off.”  Not missing a beat with his equal humor, he wrote back only three words:

“(Blank…) Times Square!!”

However, my MAN and I are very together… 32 years.

We both love thunder and lightning storms.  In SB, there are almost none so when we are in Mariposa we just love anything but sunshine.  Great childhood memories for both of us east coasters. 

There is great comfort lying in bed listening to the rain on the roof and drifting off to sleep.  It’s actually fun to be awakened in the middle of the night by a huge clap of thunder plus the lightning strikes that light up the darkest of rooms.

During the day, it’s fun to be inside cooking up something like homemade chicken soup.
The rain splats on the windows and they get steamed up from the cooking.  Someone is always ‘on guard’ near a window to announce the seconds between lightning and the thunder that will follow. All the warnings from your parents come back: 

“Do Not Iron.  Turn off the TV and pull out the plug.  Don’t stand under a tree if you are outside.”

Today, it is “Turn off the computer.  Don’t go near the microwave.  Don’t use your telephone or your cell phone.”

October 29, 2007 we were on our last day of 5 photographing in Yosemite and the weather was a glorious FALL the entire time.  (Thanks to the wonderful seasonal weather like snow, rain and sunshine.) Only when we began packing to go home did the great storm begin.  Gleeful storm troopers, we were not concerned as we knew it would be brief, loud, satisfying and then the sun would return.  Then we could pack the car.

Chuck went out with his camera and was able to capture the two snaps here.  They made a big hit on our email circuit so I thought I’d better share with our visitors here as well.

And now……..back in SB, we hear the natives chanting…
“Rain, Rain, go away..  Come again some other day.” 

Then they wonder why there is a drought!!

Jackson Hole, WY

There is nothing so pleasant as to awaken in a small town on a Fall morning when the foliage has turned colors.  It is extremely exciting when the colors “peak!”

My husband watched the weather patterns and carefully planned the timing down to the minute to arrive in Jackson Hole, Wyoming by driving from Santa Barbara, CA.  I could not have been more surprised and happy to see that his persistence paid off.  Every single tree and blade of grass was in the process of turning Jackson Hole into brilliant reds, oranges, yellows, pinks and combinations of same as well.

Opening day of 4 for a small group of photographers wishing to learn some fine art printing from Ed Riddell, the “Ansel of the Tetons,” resulted in the most unique group of photos as each of us had his/her own idea of how to portray an individual “Fall” show.

This was my first photo seminar which I found to be extremely pleasant as well as helpful in that I learned how to ‘get the picture quickly’ and then move on to the next scene.   We had to take advantage of the ‘light’ so we raced from location to location and by the end of day, we had some really good captures.  It was fun as well as interesting to see how a group of 10 people could each produce a different photo taken at the same location. 

Two glorious weeks in Jackson Hole with a lot of color, a little snow on the Tetons, and so much wildlife was exhilarating as well as peaceful.  If not for the 4 months of harsh winter and no longer being a skier, I would be happy to pack up and move.  I made serious inquiry of the residents about their winters and they were very forthcoming about what each of them does by the month of January.  

The entire vacation was thoroughly rewarding and I plan to ‘take under advisement’ what I learned about a possible vacation home in JH.  Yes, it is THAT nice!

You must visit the Photo Gallery to view the Teton photos and see a glimpse of what we experienced!

It is said that “everyone has a novel in them” and as much as I would love to write one, fiction is just not my cup of tea.  Rather, my own life experiences could fill volumes that most people can relate to. Quite by accident I put together over 300 pages of stories with 200 photos about my family.  The accident occurred when my brother’s two sons would beg us to tell them about where we lived and how we grew up and mostly asked how it was that we were so close and got along so well.

Since the boys lived in a neighboring state, I began to type stories that came to mind for our next visit and that is how it all began.  One story led to another with photos to back up some experiences so the boys could put a pictured face with the name and story.

One of the treasured stories was about Mr. Bryan’s Store.  The boys could not quite believe that directly across the street from our country home on Main Street was a general store where any and everything we could need was available to purchase from 6 a.m. to 6 pm six days a week and from 6 a.m. to noon on Sundays.

Mr. and Mrs. Bryan owned the store which included their residence encompassing the back of the first floor and the entire second floor.  There was a large covered front porch the width of the building where daily and Sunday newspapers were displayed for quick ‘pick-up’ by the locals going to and from work or Church.  People would stop to chat on the porch and have a ‘smoke’ or eat a big cone of ice cream that was purchased inside at the “fountain” area.

Immediately inside the door on the left was a large showcase, the counter where one put their purchases next to the register for payment and bagging.  Inside the glass showcase, children could see many types of penny candy from which they could choose.  Some were 2 for a penny.  All candy bars were 5 cents.  Continuing toward the back, still on the left side, you could buy cones of ice cream, popsicles, Dixie cups for 5 cents, while on the opposite side of the store was what we younger ones perceived as the ‘big kids’ counter to have Sundaes and Banana Splits that cost up to the lavish sum of 20 cents.

Any grocery item needed could be purchased, including fresh cut meat from the butcher block.  Bottles of soda of all flavors were kept in the back refrigerated area of the store.  And, I can’t forget the wall behind the front counter filled with cigarettes and cigars because we children were sent across the street to purchase them for the adults.  The cigarettes were 15 cents a pack.  A loaf of bread was also 15 cents.

As an adolescent, I bought my silk stockings right up to adulthood when I moved from my parents home and when I went to work I went through a pair a day at $1.00.  I remember an uncle giving me a big lecture about that daily purchase.  And so it went.

The personal relationship between the Bryans and my parents was very friendly and we visited them often.  The Bryans owned the first television and we were invited there 2 and 3 times a week to watch the new invention.  Incredible, warm memories.

After having moved away in 1975 I had not been in Bryan’s store until June of this year.  My husband and I took an extended three-state east coast trip and naturally stopped by our home towns.  I went to visit my parents’ gravesite and then decided to drive past my old house.  There was “Bryans” only now I saw the sign “Luncheonette” on the building.  We had to stop!  We walked in and I was amazed at how the general store had been transformed into a really nice luncheonette with a very long, curved counter and several booths around the rest of the area.  I sat down at the counter and I looked across the street through the window and gazed at my old home. 

My husband called the waitress to tell her that, “My wife grew up in that house across the street which her parents built!”  Linda went directly to the phone, dialed and began a short conversation, hung up and came around the counter.  She took my hand saying “Come with me, my parents own that home now and I’m taking you there… and by the way, my brother owns this Luncheonette.”  Wow!

I could not believe my feelings walking across a street that I had crossed a countless number of times from the age of three! I walked up the front porch steps and sure enough, the top step of the porch still had my handprint and the footprints of my two younger brothers embedded in the cement; faded but still visible.  I leaned down to put my hand in what was left of my tiny hand print and I was momentarily transported back in time.  The woman, Josephine, opened the door to me and hugged me immediately.  I did not know her but I felt the warmth as I had my entire life going through that front door.  So many memories.  The home was just remodeled so well with conveniences for people who are now retired.   Josephine and husband, David, are so obviously happy there and needless to say, Josephine had a lot of questions about the house that I was able to recall and answer for her.  I looked all around and the most important thing I left with was seeing the grounds.  Over an acre.  My mother single-handedly planted every single tree, bush, hedge and blade of grass and it was absolutely beautiful.  It was well kept and I know that my Mother and Father would be happy to know all their hard work was being enjoyed by very warm and loving people with their grown children and grandchildren.

So you see, sometimes you “can go home again.”

NEW YORK CITY PORT OF AUTHORITY

June 2007;  Just Before Rush Hour at 4:10 PM

A Sight for Sore Eyes!

I grudgingly moved from the east coast to California in 1975 having had a wonderful and full life there to that date.  Alas, weather conditions argued for a warmer climate when the last straw was breaking my windshield ice scraper, leaving me to sit freezing in my idling car for the defroster to clear a hole large enough to make it safe to drive home from work.

Having had the best of both worlds, I lived in the “country” with relatives in New York city just 35 miles away.  Our two families were very reminiscent of the “City Mouse and the Country Mouse.”  So, every two weekends we were in the city, and on opposite weekends, the city family was at our home in the country.  We children grew up well rounded.  And as adults, we continued our established life style.  Aunt Theresa in New York showed us everything to love about the city and my Mother showed the cousins everything to love about the country. 

I knew as soon as I moved into my residence in Santa Barbara, CA that things were not ever going to be the same.  I actually had culture shock for a very long time.  The long, warm days were almost boring and each evening the weather forecast was for 72 degrees and sunny. 

Having a career, I immediately set out to apply for employment and the first question every would-be employer asked was, “Why do you want to live here?”  I never had an answer to suit the question and finally, a wonderful and semi-retired State Senator with whom I became friendly said to me, “Marie, in this town, you have to earn the right to live here!” Wow!  I was not running for President of the U.S.  My dear friend shared a secret with me and I followed up with the information.  Sure enough, I was hired in a “New York Minute” by the new owner of a large business here.  He was from New York City.  He, too, had culture shock interviewing local people and not having much luck.  So, I was set, employment-wise.  But I was always asked the same question by those working and those entering my work place, “Wouldn’t you rather be at the beach today?”  They were always shocked at my immediate, “No!”

First, I missed the “Fall” of the east coast.  It was a physical as well as mental feeling.  Something was definitely missing.  So, I packed my bags and took a vacation to my homeland.  I was in heaven.  My food, my people, my life.   After my “east coast injection,” I returned to the west coast rejuvenated and ready to cope until the next vacation.  And that is how I managed to remain here.

I have not been able to visit the east for 10 years but finally… I just returned from the most wonderful east coast trip and the “injection” is still with me after 4 weeks.  I was absolutely thrilled to see in person a city cleaner than when I left it in 1975.  Oh I heard, I knew, but to see squeaky clean rest rooms complete with an attendant in the New York Port of Authority Building was so exciting I had to take a photograph.  The subways were so clean I was awestruck.  Not one inch of graffiti anywhere.  No debris on the ground and a very unobtrusive security guard presence.  I love the upscale News Stand with the blue lights enroute to the Subways.  After all that has gone on since 9/11 (yes, I sadly visited Ground Zero because, after all, I watched the towers being built and visited Windows on the World many times) this was indeed a wonderful experience and a fabulous homecoming.

Back in SB, people are asking “What’s up, you look and sound great?”  Right now it is still hard to believe that I left Santa Barbara for two weeks and there was not one single negative from departing to returning to my front door.  Everything was perfect and because I expected nothing except to ‘visit home,’ I was rewarded with all the improvements in both the city and the country.  Life is still beautiful there and I am so happy that there are no fences between houses in my country town.  Finally, the Sabrett Hot Dog Cart still sells the best hot dogs on the streets of the city where Wall Streeters and high end professionals stand in line to buy them all day long.  And, it felt so good to see people walking down the streets eating a properly folded “slice” (New York Pizza.)  Truly –  “A Sight for Sore Eyes!”