Category Archives: family and friends

beach kid memories

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A sandcastle friend and I.

Down the shore, going to the beach. The Philadelphia Inquirer did a story on people’s memories. The article made me smile and think back to the little kid years.

SHORE MEMORIES
July 4 celebrations, nine kids in a car, cycling in Cape May. Readers reminisce on their trips down the Shore.

There are so many memories from the little kid stage. First down in the gardens in Ocean City when my sister and I were really little. Bike parades with patriotic colored streamers in the spokes.

My sister at like 3 making bowls of blueberries for everyone by putting each blueberry one at a time in each bowl. And counting each blueberry.

One of my Ocean City friends.
The red VW bug was my father’s car.

Getting fake yellow patent leather shoes with white daisies on them on the Ocean City boardwalk and then getting the the worst blisters ever. Getting my first pair of moccasins on the boardwalk for learning to speak softly. Being threatened with wearing “dungarees” if I kept messing up clothes or whatever it was that I was doing that was annoying.

Riding the super cool carousel on the Ocean City boardwalk but not really being big enough to grab a brass ring. The Ferris Wheel that gave you a view of everything and the mingled smells of cotton candy, popcorn, and boardwalk pizza.

Making sandcastles on the beach. Constantly skinning my knees. The day my sister decided to wander away on the beach when she was really little and the scary feeling of not knowing where she was and feeling like it was forever until they found her. And she really wandered a fair distance I remember.

Fireworks as big as the sky. Sparklers on July 4th.

Bike riding around the Gardens in
Ocean City with my father.

Then there were the Avalon years, of which there were many. Going with my father to the bakery on Dune Drive that was like down from the Princeton on OTHER side of Dune Drive for cinnamon buns and those puffy cream donuts all dusted in powdered sugar. There is just something about the smell of an old school bakery combined with the smells of the beach in the morning.

Swimming with our father out to sandbars and body surfing to shore.

The annual posing for photos in front of the lifeguard boat in matching swimsuits which I hated more than the matching dresses.

The year my mother put peroxide on our hair before we went in the sun and we were strictly instructed to tell daddy she only used lemon juice.

Going to church and liking the little old church better than the new church and it’s ugly auditorium design. Overall wishing we didn’t have to go to church in the summer.

Being bored to tears being dragged to Hassis so my father could go clothes shopping.

The Paper Peddler for books and the occasional Mad Magazine.

Remembering when one of my father’s single or divorced friends came to visit and they wanted to go to The Rocking Chair. My mother stayed with us and the guys went out.

The old Avalon Library on a rainy day. Cool and damp, it smelled like sand and mildew.

Flying kites on the beach. I loved kites!

Going to buy penny candy at the little general store that was around 7th street with a whole dollar each! A friend of my mom’s friends named Weezie handed us each a dollar with one hand, her cigarette in the other hand, and told us to “go blow our minds.”

Kite flying

I also remember the old movie theatre on the pier in Avalon. When the waves and surf got rough enough, I swear you could feel the building sway, only it didn’t freak you out, it was oddly comforting.

Right where the theatre was, there was also an arcade. The arcade had Skee Ball, which I still love. After you would collect all your tickets from playing, you could buy endless kitschy salt and pepper, shakers and bobble heads. I liked the Bobblehead cats and dogs. And I remember things like salt and pepper shakers that look like lightbulbs. It was so much fun!

Summer community theatre. Someone we knew was in Peter Pan and was flown across the stage on wires.

At night then, Avalon was pretty quiet. Dark skies, the sounds of crickets and kids. Brilliant, marvelous starry skies.

I hated the matching swimsuits and these photos. I remember especially disliking this swimsuit pattern. But it was easier to find us on the beach. My mother wasn’t a go into the ocean and get her hair wet person.

And then I have other memories like visiting family friends who owned Woodrow Wilson’s cabin on 13th St. in Avalon. It had a fireplace and was one of my favorite places even in the winter. In the summer, these friends would have cookouts, and the kids would run around and do stuff, and the parents would sit out back on lawn chairs and beach chairs surrounded by planted clumps of bamboo threatening to take over. When dusk and evening would fall, I remember the times we would all trek to the beach and watch the stars. And also do things like climb the lifeguard stands. All of the adults and all of the kids. It was an adventure!

Other memories like playing in the dunes when they were really high dunes. And I also have a magical kid memory of being somewhere around 8th street or 10th street or wherever and watching little hatched sea turtles swish their way down the sand into the sea. I wonder if any sea turtles nest there anymore because Avalon is so over developed at this point.

Then there are other random memories like watching moon landings on a little tiny black-and-white TV at the beach, and watching Nixon get impeached and leaving Washington DC.

Funny memories like going to a pancake house in Avalon with my mother, my sister, father, and their friends and their kids. I don’t think it was Uncle Bill’s, I remember another pancake place. It was Aunt somebody, Aunt Maggie’s maybe? Anyway, we were seated half banquette seating, half chairs with tables all put together. We were on the banquette side. My mother threw her head back to laugh at something, and her hair caught in the plastic plants in the little divider wall that the banquette seating was up against. When she went to move her head and untangle her hair, it created a chain reaction of plastic plants, being lifted out of their containers on top of the banquette. It was hysterical.

I loved the dunes! This was sound 9th or 10th street in Avalon. I wore that smiley face t-shirt until the decal came off.

When I was little, I loved the beach. But it was a lot different then. We started out in the gardens in Ocean City, but my parents had friends with homes in Avalon and Stone Harbor and there was a lot more space there when we were little, so that’s how we ended up there. As these beach towns have gotten built up, even the spit that Strathmere is, I have stopped wanting to go there. I still love Cape May but that’s basically for the Victorian architecture that so gloriously preserved. I don’t like how built up everything has become.

But when I saw the article in the Inquirer it just made me think. It even made me think of the little kid activities in the evening like catching the little toads that you would see hopping around and putting them in a bucket and then letting them go. And catching fireflies in a jar. Marshmallows on a stick. Hula hoops, flashlight tag. Transistor radios. Being super bummed when we crossed over the Ben Franklin bridge and were back in Philadelphia.

So many fun memories.

Happy Memorial Day weekend.

dear willistown, if someone dumped strange chemicals on my property, can guarantee happiness wouldn’t abound

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So does anyone recognize that broad side of a barn or the logo on that tractor thing?

Well, apparently, if it’s something weird that will happen, it will happen in Willistown Township.

A friend has come to me asking if I recognized anything about this tractor like the logo and she knows it’s grainy because it’s from a security camera. Here is the tiny video. The video was taken May 3, 2023 at 9:50 AM. This video was taken on their property on Creek Road. They think that this vehicle came from Wildwood Drive.

The homeowners here were not home. They were out of town. They had not contracted with anyone for any sort of work on the property. And as far as they have been able to ascertain neither have their neighbors.

They went to the Willistown Police Department via phone because they were out of town when the security camera went off. They filed a police report right then, but right or wrong, recounted to me that they didn’t feel taken seriously, or the person taking the report didn’t understand how bad this could actually be.

Not only was their lawn completely turfed, and I have photos to post next, there is this smell emanating from where whoever this was dumped whatever it was and people need to know what the chemicals are! And yes the smell is still there! And it’s now days later!!

Now my friend does appreciate that Willistown sent an officer to check it out, however, this is something that is kind of a big deal potentially. Like many of us they are on a well. Like many of us, they have pets that could be potentially fatally sickened from whatever was tossed on their property. The officer who responded did not seem to get out of their vehicle?

This dumping event is SO not OK. Not only does this person not know what chemicals were dumped, but whoever the company is and employee totally ruined her lawn. She and her husband feel utterly VIOLATED and environmentally conscious Willistown Township needs to get on the stick here.

If you have any information, leave a comment, and or message any other kind of proof to this blog’s Facebook page. I will pass it along to the homeowner. If you saw the truck carrying this weird little tractor thing and Bubba in his big blue suit, also helpful information.

Illegal dumping is actually a crime. And this counts is illegal because they didn’t authorize any work or anything.

If you are media, and you would like to be connected to this person, you can similarly contact me and I will pass your information along to them.

We have enough environmental hazards on a daily basis without some thing that is intentionally bad news like this.

any fairy godmothers or godfathers out there who can pay it forward for the boys at church farm school so they can go to their very first prom?

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Church Farm School is a wonderful institution. And it gives deserving boys a chance at education and opportunity that might not necessarily find them. So it’s not your average silver spoon private school.

Because they are not your average silver spoon private school, they don’t always get the opportunity to do things a lot of high schoolers get to do, like go to prom. Prom is a right of passage and this year for the first time, they have been invited by a sister school to come to prom.

Prom wear is not int he average budget of a lot of these kids so when I saw a message posted on social media I knew I needed to pay it forward, because while there are tons of organizations to help girls get dressed for prom, they don’t exist for boys. Here’s the message:

Hi Malvern! Please delete if this is not permitted.

I work for Church Farm School, which is an all boys’ Boarding School grades 9-12 in Exton, PA. Our boys have pretty much never had a Prom before. This year we are excited to have been invited to our sister school’s Prom. So we have a group of juniors and seniors who are eager for the chance to attend. However, access to formalwear can be difficult for our student body. If anyone has suits or other formalwear that they would consider donating to our Clothes Closet or has coupons to formalwear stores/rentals, we would be so grateful for any assistance.

The prom is April 29th, 2023

Please email development@gocfs.net if you are willing to help out.

So how about it? Can you help? Even if you can sponsor a tux rental? Any formalwear businesses out there which could help last minute?

We want kids to all have these great experiences, so how about a little Cinderella magic here? They promise to get home at a reasonable pumpkin hour.

Do it for the boys.

Thanks for your consideration!

breaking up is hard to do…in willistown: aqua dumped before prom….

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Dear Aqua, it’s me, Willistown. I’m sorry, but we’re breaking up. I have another prom date, the residents….

Well it’s over…for now. Willistown Supervisors actually voted unanimously to end the relationship with Aqua.

I have incomplete details, but I am told that there was an exit clause or sunset capability in the contract? The exit date was apparently today, expiring at midnight . The Board of Supervisors said they weren’t going to prom with Willistown just before 8 PM. It was further noted that some Aqua executive said something along the lines of Willistown needs to honor their contract which is confusing because wasn’t Willistown doing just that ?

will they or won’t they? are willistown and aqua going to break up before prom?
Post from before the pre-prom break-up

People from New Garden and Norristown came to show solidarity with Willistown residents.

The following graphic is courtesy of New Garden resident, Bill Ferguson (KWA – Keep Water Affordable):

So oh what a night. That’s all I know. Office of Consumer Advocate (OCA) is still in litigation against the PUC (Public Utility Commission). So although Willistown’s neighbor East Whiteland sold to Aqua, I am not sure that East Whiteland can use the proceeds until the litigation settles? I could be completely wrong, but I seem to remember something like that and also, it’s important to note that East Whiteland residents did not kick up a fuss about their sewer system selling to Aqua. As a matter of fact, sometimes you wondered if people had a pulse over this issue.

I have to wonder if Aqua will take this to court? The reason I wonder that is because Bucks County was a big kick in the teeth for them already. And just for gossip inquiries, someone also said that Willistown had their solicitor resign? Is that true?

This stopping the sale is quite the accomplishment on the part of the residents from Willistown and other communities.

Anyway, enjoy the following video snippets courtesy of Ginny Kerslake.

Please note that this is a developing story and I will have more video eventually. Stay tuned.

cool main line history: the harcum mile in bryn mawr.

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If you love history, you will love the You Tube. It’s called the Harcum Mile. The video is the brain child of a life long friend, Margi Tucker De Temple. She is the wife of current Harcum President Jon Jay De Temple. Now I will tell you I think the reason Harcum still exists is because of Jon. He has worked hard to continue to bring the college through challenging times in education.

Anyway, yes, I know I have a personal connection to this, but it’s also because my family lived east of “The Harcum Mile”, in Haverford. My parents also knew Philip and Esther Klein, and my father was friendly with their son Arthur, who also at one time was head of the board a historic Jewish cemetery in Philadelphia across from Pennsylvania Hospital, Mikveh Israel. I think that is the oldest Jewish cemetery in this country. I have a memory of being a relatively small child and driving with my parents from the city to some kind of dedication at Harcum. I thought at first it was Klein Hall but I’m not sure. As I said to my friend Margi, because I was small I remembered it seemed like such a long car ride from Society Hill to Bryn Mawr.

This compilation of properties along Montgomery Avenue where Harcum is, are fascinating. Not all of the houses still exist today. And one of the reasons I love this little video is the discussion of a couple of my favorite architects of the latter part of the 19th century, Addison Hutton and the Price brothers (William Lightfoot Price and Frank Price, also known for their work in Wayne, PA and Rose Valley.) Addison Hutton of course is also known for Beechwood House in Bryn Mawr and out here in Chester County the architectural jewel, Loch Aerie, which you all know I adore.

I used to love walking my dogs up and down Montgomery Avenue. I would start in Haverford and sometimes I would go East well into Ardmore, but usually I would go west up to around Beechwood House or Ashbridge Park. I love the 19th century houses that you see along the way.

And of course I also went to Shipley, so this is literally where I have spent a lot of years walking around. Which is why I was thrill to find that Margi was doing this project. It started with a lecture that I couldn’t get down to Bryn Mawr for and then she told me she was doing a video. This is that video. Selfishly I think she should do a series of videos because this was so great and it has all the components I love: the history of an area, the history of the homes, the history of the inhabitants. This is a great video!

A special note about how the Main Line got it’s name and where it ends, Paoli. I love that this is in this video, historically accurate.

For more on the history of Harcum College you can visit their website. CLICK HERE.

For more on the history of Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr College is a tremendous resource. For one example of this, CLICK HERE.

Enjoy the sun after yesterday! Thanks for stopping by.

loss, the companion of aging

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This morning was a day when I wanted to hand my adulting card back. Another one of the great ladies of my childhood is gone. No, not my mother, one of her friends, a family friend.

So I have some bad news. My mom died this morning. She loved 95 good, healthy years. And if she’s right about the afterlife, she is now with my dad. We have no arrangements about services, but when I know something…we will share the details.

Loss truly is the companion of aging. Shit. Some days you do just want to curse. This morning was one of them.

We can’t escape death, as it is literally part of the cycle of life. But there are those people who touched your life whom you just wish would go on. Or you just think will go on.

This lady was someone I knew from the time I was a little girl. She and her late husband were friends of my parents, neighbors at one time. Yes, another one of those fabulous ladies of my Society Hill childhood. We also went to the same church, Old St. Joseph’s on Willing’s Alley. One of the first things I remembered was being in church with this family. I remember our first holy communion because one of the daughters was in my communion class.

An eminently practical person, but never dull or preachy or stuffy. Always fun to be around and she made you want to be a better person. She loved you for who you were.

I think our parents met when my mother and she would take kids to the park nearby. My mother may have been pregnant with my sister. The park is known today as 3 Bears Park. Maybe it always was because of the bear sculpture we would climb on, but to me it was just the “park” or “Delancey Park.”. It had a sliding board that kept breaking because the sun would dry out whatever it was made of – fiberglass I think. But they had great swings and we the kids would pump higher and higher.

The lady had a wonderful husband. Big and tall with a wide smile and a laugh that made his eyes twinkle. Her daughters were so close in age to my sister and I. The oldest daughter and I were in the same grade. The youngest daughter was maybe a year or so behind us, my sister was the baby of this little girls bunch. There were two older brothers as well.

This morning when I got the news, it kind of felt like the world of today spun into a kaleidoscope of the past. From being a little enough girl that this lady kept a straight face when we kept putting my sister into the youngest daughter’s doll bed in her room. Or patience when the tiny turtle’s living area needed to be cleaned. And laughing her wonderful laugh when they finally figured out when her husband’s pride and joy imported Italian car smelled. (The Alpha had an Italian worker who had dropped a salami sandwich inside the door of the car when it was being assembled. Who knows why the worker did it but it was a great mystery of our childhood for a while trying to figure out why her husband’s car smelled to high heaven.) I also remember day trips in a big old station wagon big enough for kids and moms.

Their house was where I first learned peanut butter and jelly was an actual thing you could eat. That was offered one day when one of the kids she was feeding lunch to along with us didn’t want a tuna fish sandwich. I remember where their dining room table was next to the kitchen, and the walled garden out back. I remember there was no messing with the big brothers, even if they were fun. They seemed so big to little girls at that age.

The family moved a few times over the course of the lady’s husband’s career. Before Philadelphia I want to say they were in the Princeton, NJ area, which to a little girl with no frame of geographical reference seemed a million miles away. After Society Hill they moved to Bethesda, Maryland. I remember the road where they lived was Arrowood Road. And for some reason I remember they lived near two big deal golf clubs for that area, Burning Tree and Congressional. And to get to their house you went on this crazy windy road. The kind where the dips and turns could be felt in the stomachs of little girls – River Road. For me initially visiting there as a then still city kid, it was so magical to be in suburbia with big lawns, backyards and big trees. For a while a raccoon inhabited one of the trees in their back yard. Don’t ask me why I have never forgotten that, but I never have. Probably because the lady’s husband hated that raccoon.

When the family moved away, we would go to Maryland, they would come to visit us. Going to visit this family was the ultimate in fun. The lady always had things lined up for us to do. One year it was the King Tut exhibit at The National Gallery in Washington, DC. I remember waiting in a long, long line to go in. That was I believe around 1976. I also remember the summer my parents house sat the pink stucco house that no longer exists on Cheswold Lane in Haverford and the lady and the daughters came for a longer visit. That was one of my favorite summers and they were part of it. That was a couple of years before we moved to the Main Line but my parents were contemplating moving to suburbia.

The lady was incredibly bright. I seem to remember that she went to a 7 sisters school, and when my family moved to Haverford, an adult neighbor’s sister had been her roommate in college.

This lady was a tremendous cook. Kind of Julia Child-like meets Galloping Gourmet, truthfully. (And yes I am dating myself because many won’t remember the Galloping Gourmet.) A few years ago I got a hold of her Florentine cookies recipe from when we were kids. I also remember one New Year’s Eve when she and her husband and the girls were up at our house, she decided to make a chocolate roll to take as a dessert. Only our springer spaniel Abigail jumped up and ate a section of the sponge cake cooling on the stove. I remember cursing, yelling, and a quick recovery and she made the remains of the cake into a decadent trifle.

We often spent Thanksgiving with them, and they with us. I loved being in her kitchen at Thanksgiving. She would put us all to work, but I think in part, this is why I know how to make Thanksgiving dinner today. I remember one Thanksgiving they came with us to my aunt and uncle’s home in Chestnut Hill for an awkward family dinner gather of part of my father’s clan. The dining room was dark and cold. But it was much more fun with our friends with us. One Thanksgiving when they were with us, my parents made a reservation at The Greenhouse in Radnor. You all know it today as 333 Belrose. When you did Thanksgiving there, it was an entire dinner, including your own small turkey and tons of leftovers to take home, but no clean up.

I remember being at their house in Maryland when the news broke on 3 Mile Island. I was in the kitchen with the lady, one of the brothers had the TV on in the family room.

The family moved from Bethesda to Summit, NJ and then in a way they were closer. Either way, Bethesda or Summit, as I got older I was only an Amtrak ride away to visit them.

I loved their house in Summit, NJ. And Summit was just a nice town. I have more memories of the lady again in the kitchen which had a lot of natural light, and a garden you could see from the kitchen. These were the days before gargantuan kitchens in houses, and I loved the kitchens of my childhood which is probably why I don’t mind my smaller kitchen of today. Except I remember the kitchen in Summit, NJ had stools you could sit at.

Today as I have processed this loss, I will admit there have been a lot of tears, And memories popping into my head randomly and out of order. But this was one of the families of my childhood that we stayed so connected to. I remember the lady and her husband going to a black tie in Washington DC with my parents to some dinner to honor Jacques Cousteau. I remember one spooky neighbor of theirs in Bethesda when they had a cocktail party that everyone thought was with the CIA whether that was realistic or not.

But one of the things I remember most about this lady is she never treated you like a kid even when you were a child. She spoke to you, she saw you. And she never judged. She might not always tell you what you wanted to hear because she was straightforward and plain spoken. With four kids of her own and all of the kids in and out of the house, she could be like a very affectionate drill sergeant. I don’t remember her yelling per se, but I do remember her with a stern raised voice when something was going on that she wanted to stop, or if there was something we should be doing. But even when I was a child, I just liked to talk to her. I feel so lucky that I had these adults who were interesting and loving in my life growing up.

Since she and her husband had retired to a warmer climate, the visits turned into phone calls, letters, Christmas cards. And one last text message early into the new year this year. She was a New Year’s baby essentially. I saved the message to remind me to call her soon, and then life went on and today my world paused to take in a loss combined with being so lucky to have known such an awesome woman.

Fly with the angels, we know your memory will indeed be an eternal blessing. Selfishly, I will say my world got a little smaller today.

details, details

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Things that drive me crazy includes when incorrect dates are attributed to old houses. The City of Philadelphia in particular is the WORST. THE WORST.

Take for example, the house that counts as my birthplace in Philadelphia. The City of Philadelphia has it listed as being built in 1860. It is a historic property that their own redevelopment authority dated to 1811! I have the sign when it was built in 1811 and for whom that hung on the house before my parents purchased it ! And a former Mayor of Philadelphia and Congressman J. Hampton Moore lived there. Documentable history.

Or my grandparents old house in North Philadelphia where my father was born. They give the rowhouse a date of being built in 1940. My father was born in 1935. There. Was daddy living in the wild, Philadelphia?

What started me on this today? One of my friends and I realized that one of her grandmother was born a few blocks from the house my great aunts and great uncle lived in at 1128 Ritner Street in South Philadelphia. The City of Philadelphia lists the house as being built in 1940. Again, one issue: photos of my father as an infant out front with my grandfather, grandmother, great aunts, and great grandmother…..in 1935.

So then I went digging around. Found instances of when this house was for rent, for sale, needed domestic help in the early 20th century. 1897, 1908, 1912, 1919. So there goes that idea of 1940 Philadelphia.

This of course led me to all sorts of other notices. For my family. When my Great Aunt Rose and Uncle Carl got their marriage license. Death notices, executor and executrix notices. And one freaking amazing find I had never seen before: when my father’s maternal grandfather, Francesco Antonio Luca, my great grandfather became a naturalized U.S. Citizen. That gave me chills.

Of course this led me to sad records, including when my Aunt Josie’s house, now sold a few times since it was sold when she had to go into a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, went into a foreclosure in 2021. I feel sorry for whomever that was and I am guessing they may have been in part responsible for the bastardization of the inside of the house.

It also led me to photos of a more recent Realtor type vintage. I have so few photos of the inside of that house, and none are scanned. And I couldn’t find them when I was starting to write this post. Inside when I was little was an old fireplace with Mercer tiles around it and a white mantle. There was a vestibule, which meant you came inside the front door and there was a little area with tiles that you could drop wet shoes, an umbrella, etc. There was also a door that then led you inside the house. My great aunts had an ancient player piano. That was left when the house was sold while Aunt Josie was alive. I actually found a photo of it but it had been moved to near the front window when it was always in between the living room and dining room when I was growing up. At some point the living room and dining room were bastardized in the 2000s and no more fireplace or vestibule or curved arch kind of entry to dining room. Oh and there is a “roof terrace” (not finished) which trust me never excisted.

I have a lot of very specific memories of the house on Ritner Street because we spent a lot of time there. I have written about that before. When you walked inside the front doors, there was a vestibule with an additional door and transom window. The vestibule had tile as flooring. Not sure it was marble, but might have been. The fireplace was closed off and completely decorative by the time I was a child and I think hid pipes or something. But when it was for sale a few years ago, the beautiful mantle and Mercer tile surround and hearth was just gone and those floors were not the original hardwoods. And I am not sure where the front window came from because it was different from when I was little and even different from when my father was growing up.

And I am not sure when the house got so unattractive with the façade because originally it was brick and other stone. I remember the steps were blue-grey marble or granite originally and then at some point before I was born a home “improvement” contractor working the neighborhood convinced the residents of 1128 Ritner that the steps HAD to change. I imagine he probably re-sold the original slabs of stone and the way the steps were situated also changed.

Being so annoyed that the City of Philadelphia didn’t even have the right year the house was built also sent me to the census records for the Lucas. Why that was cool is I saw all the places they lived after emigrating. They came in through Alabama and PJ, my Uncle Pat (Pasquale) and Aunt Millie were born in Tuscumbia, Alabama. The others were born in Philadelphia. I found the houses prior to moving to Ritner Street – 966 Kimball and 1614 Iseminger.

I will remember Ritner street the way it was when I was growing up. I am sorry the interior details that were so pretty have been lost over time. Especially those Mercer tiles in the hearth and fireplace surround.

Except for their earliest residences, these immigrants I descend from owned their homes. And if you read the census data, there was only a limited education until my father’s generation. These people worked hard. These people are my people. When so many run from what they are from, I celebrate it.

I miss my old people of my growing up years. I miss that house. No one besides me probably cares that the year it was built is wrong, or the house I was born into is listed with the wrong building year. But details matter. Or they should. But it’s the City of Philadelphia which has seemingly stopped caring about pretty much everything.

memories like a gaf viewfinder.

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Family is often more of an abstract concept as opposed to the reality we thought it should be. Only these are people that I’ve never really known and who have never wanted to know me.

Every once in a while I think about this family I should know, but really don’t. It’s not that I miss them per se, it’s just something I wonder about occasionally.

My memories of my father’s immediate family as in his siblings is like looking at photos through a reel of an old GAF Viewfinder. Remember those? Click click on a round little cardboard thing with a finite amount of images. National parks, nature, monuments, and more.

Click, click. I remember when I was maybe 6 or so, spending a weekend at a white farmhouse with a barn off a long driveway or maybe a narrow road in Paoli. It was off of Lancaster Avenue. My father’s sister, my aunt, and her family lived there for a couple of years before my uncle got a job transfer to Ohio I think it was.

Click, click. Another memory of the same house. Thanksgiving. Being seated at the children’s table out in the hall next to the staircase. With my cousins, who really didn’t want to be at a table with me. I remember black-eyed peas as a side, and I remember my uncle’s tiny Cuban mother, who spoke very little English, seated at the grown up table dressed all in black.

Click, click. Walking with my father to his brother’s house, which was close to ours for a while in Philadelphia when we lived in Society Hill. Again I was fairly little, and I seem to remember where he lived was almost like inside a little courtyard street. I don’t remember why we were there, but I remember my father speaking to his brother outside. Eventually, my uncle and his wife at the time and family moved to Buffalo New York. We were never invited to visit, not that I cared – we just never were invited. My grandmother used to go visit them in the summer.

Click, click. My father sitting in a darkened living room shortly after his father died. Chain smoking, boxes from I guess his childhood bedroom or something scattered all around. I just remember him being really upset. I never knew what happened. But a memory, I can still recall clearly. A lamp on in the darkened living room, silence, a single stream of cigarette smoke, a crystal ashtray, my father contemplative and silent.

Click, click. Another early random memory. Being at my great aunts’ house on Ritner Street in Philadelphia Christmas Eve. Loud, crowded, fun.

Click, click. Memories here and there of my aunt and uncle’s home in Chestnut Hill. My father‘s mother, my paternal grandmother moved there after my grandfather died. I remember when we went to visit her there we were never allowed to visit her it seemed by ourselves. And I never felt like we were actually welcomed there.

I remember the house. It was a beautiful house and a lot of the furnishings were similar in style and taste to my parents. I loved the living room in that house. It had so much light. I didn’t like the dining room. It seemed dark and unfriendly. Cold. I remember a Thanksgiving when we had visitors from out of town who came with us to Thanksgiving dinner at my father’s sister’s house. It was cold and uncomfortable.

Click, click. The old Lakeside Inn located in Collegeville, PA. It was a surprise party for one of my great aunts. Or maybe it was an anniversary party for my great aunt and uncle. I don’t remember what the event was, I remember is it was a gathering of the clan and at one point my father’s brother made this big deal of taking all the kids downstairs at the Lakeside Inn where they had a gift shop. My uncle, my father’s brother bought all the kids, a toy or something out of the gift shop. Except for my sister and I. I don’t know why that was, but I remember how it felt. We didn’t cry or anything. We just kind of went back to where the grown-ups were at the party. Someone told my great uncle about this and he took my sister and I down later and got us each a special present. I remember what mine was and I had it for decades until it literally fell apart, it was a little calico owl stuffed animal.

Click, click. Memories of going to Maryland to see my father’s favorite cousin, and his wife and family here and there. My earliest memory was a little house and we were on the swingset in the back. I even have a photo of that. Then there were later memories of a cool Victorian house in Ellicott City. Those were always happy memories because I really like those cousins and we felt welcome as opposed to how we felt every time we were around my father’s sister and brother and their respective families. Also other memories of other cousins of my father. There we were always welcome, I did not feel like an outsider who was barely tolerated.

Click, click when my father’s mother was dying. My uncle, my father’s brother, telling my father that he was a terrible son over their mother’s deathbed with me in the room as well. I told my uncle off then and there. My grandmother said nothing but smiled.

Click, click. The luncheon at Philadelphia Cricket Club after my grandmother’s funeral. First of all, realizing that no one really wanted our part of the family there, and how breathtakingly rude one of my aunt’s daughters (my first cousin) was to me in the ladies room. I’ve never forgotten it. She loved my grandmother very much and I know that. She was very close to her. I didn’t begrudge that. That was her relationship. But I still remember being at the sink, putting on lipstick or something and my cousin coming out of the stall in the ladies room. I said hello to her and she literally cut me dead and I’ve never forgotten the look, and I never understood the look either because we didn’t have a relationship, so why would she be like that? It was literally hateful. It’s not like I got some huge inheritance over her, there was only one thing I asked my aunt for of my grandmother’s. I asked for some photos of my father growing up that my grandmother had. And when those arrived, which was months after the funeral, they arrived in a small box, and you could see they had been ripped out of old-fashioned photo albums.

I have lots of these random memories that are like they were from a GAF viewfinder. Finite, brief. But there.

Funny but not funny, whenever I see super happy, close TV families it doesn’t quite smack of reality. There is none of the messiness of real life. My father’s relationship with his siblings was definitely messy. I just will probably never know exactly why, because each sibling has their own story, of course and wherein lies the truth? His sister is the only sibling still alive at this point. But I’ve never really had a relationship with her and I’m not going to call an old woman and say, why didn’t you get along with your brother, my father?

I never have known exactly what the breakdown was between my father and his siblings. Or with his mother after his father died. I wasn’t there when they were growing up. I just remember even when I was little there was a vibe I got. They had whatever issue with my father, also didn’t like my mother, and I was one of their children.

Every once in a while, I wonder what life would have been like growing up if these relationships were different? I wonder what it would be like today if those relationships have been different? But when you’re related to people that really don’t care to know you, it kind of sets the stage. You wonder and then you release that feeling.

I have a really nice life. I have my family, but I still wonder occasionally what life would have been like if my father’s family had been different? Please don’t misunderstand me, I don’t miss what I’ve never known. It’s just more of a curiosity. When I get occasional news of any of this part of my father’s family, it’s like hearing about strangers, because to me, they really are strangers. I’ve never really known them, and they’ve never wanted to know me.

Musings released back to the universe.

a cooking week

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It has been a week of cooking. Right now I have a chicken roasting in the oven, Julia Child style. Along with the roast chicken, I am making a salad with poppyseed dressing. I’m making at the way friend. I had many years ago named Liza used to make it. It was one of her favorite salads to serve. I am also serving a mash of potatoes, celeriac root, and parsnips with sautéed baby Bella mushrooms.

Earlier this week I made pierogis for the first time. I have mad respect for old Polish grandmothers everywhere. Those suckers are work! I used a New York Times recipe, and adjusted the potato filling to my taste – I added sautéed mushrooms.

A couple of days ago I found some fabulous old Coalport plates. You don’t see them all the time in the US they are a British china. Coalport china ceased operations and production in 1926. Coalport was eventually absorbed into Wedgewood in the 1960s. I love old plates, so I will use them. I pretty much use old plates every day no matter what, I’m not really a modern china person. And my mother always said if you have the plates use them, you can’t take them with you.

Today for dessert I am making something I made up. I am calling it pineapple upside down trifle. it’s a semi homemade kind of thing, and never underestimate the power of a simple dessert.

Here’s the recipe:

1 box Jell-O instant pudding mix. Today I’m using banana, but you can also use vanilla. Make according to directions with whole milk and put to the side.

1 package of ladyfingers or one store-bought poundcake. I just got a Sara Lee that’s always still in the freezer section and let it thaw on the refrigerator.package of ladyfingers or one store-bought poundcake. I just got a Saralee that’s always still in the freezer section and let it thaw on the refrigerator.

1 cleaned, cored, sliced into small pieces fresh pineapple. I found a smaller one at the store, not huge one.

A couple tablespoons of brown sugar and butter.

I am making my trifle in a vintage Copco Enamelware Bowl. I’m not putting this into the oven. I’m just putting it into the refrigerator. I really like this bowl. I found that a few months ago. It’s stamped Michael Lax for Copco of Switzerland. It was a total deal and I purchased it well below what you would see these bowls going for on EBay or Etsy.

I sautéed the pineapple in a couple of tablespoons of unsalted butter with brown sugar until they were caramelized. When they were cool enough to handle, I started to put my trifle together.

Trifle is really simple. It’s layered pudding and cake with fruit. Never underestimate the appeal of this desert. If you want to you can top it with a little whipped cream but you don’t have to.

Bon appétit!

first there was “buy nothing” now there is “gifting with gratitude”

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I started a gifting group after complete and utter nastiness exploded within a local Buy Nothing group. Buy Nothing Malvern if you are curious.

The nutshell version is a couple of years ago there were women who were like power-hungry or social media glory hungry, I’m not exactly sure what the case was, but they offered to “help” an admin who has started this particular chapter of a Buy Nothing group I had belonged to and then they did a hostile takeover for lack of a better description. I kind of sat there and went “HUH” when it happened, and thought well isn’t that nasty?

I decided after what happened with our local Buy Nothing group that we could build our own group and carry on what the woman who originally founded the Malvern Buy Nothing Group intended.

Our group is called Gift and Gratitude. We are predominantly hyper-local, but depending how close to our home area a person is, we will consider people outside of our immediate ZIP Code. And that is not a flexibility that the named Buy Nothing Groups offer. We also got rid of silliness like leaving posts up forever. And we are more cognizant of people who try to work the system of gifting to get things they can sell for their own profit and there are things that we don’t allow that we don’t feel other gifting groups are clear enough on. It’s responsible gifting.

And right or wrong, we also keep an eye on people who always seem to have a hand out versus ever offering a hand up. We will work with local nonprofits and food banks, and things like that if asked if they are in short supply of something, we will put it out there in our group to help. We take the spirit of community seriously. We know we can’t help everyone, but we do what we can.

Over the past couple of years, I have heard tales from friends of mine in other areas about their local Buy Nothing named groups imploding. Then I heard about the original Buy Nothing founders launching an app with pay walls, etc. so I kind of think that for whatever reason, and I’m not judging them, these original founders, who inspired us sold out for lack of a better description.

OK that’s kind of a bummer, but people have to make a living, right? And the thing about Buy Nothing is it inspired us to try to be better, to help. I don’t know if any of you read this article from 2022, but it was a good thing to read when you’re talking about these groups:

Philadelphia Magazine: How My Local Buy Nothing Group Made the Suburbs Feel Like a Real Place
The gifting economy offers exactly the kind of low-stakes engagement I never knew I needed before COVID.
by JASON SHEEHAN· 7/16/2022, 8:53 p.m

Washington Post STYLE
Buy Nothing is everything
The best things in life — a bag of guinea pig poop, a sex tent, a screeching animatronic chimpanzee head — are free

By Maura Judkis
February 6, 2023 at 6:00 a.m. EST

Today Show: How the Buy Nothing Project taught me to rethink how I shop

The Verge: Buy Nothing exploded on Facebook — now it wants a platform of its own

Well, most people I’ve spoken to don’t like the app as in the Buy Nothing app. Mostly they don’t like it because they can’t connect to their local group via the app and the pay walls.

So what else has happened? Well, it’s getting like the Hatfields versus the McCoys and the Sharks versus the Jets. Now people are starting and / or rebranding their Buy Nothing group into Gifting With Gratitude. Now this has all started since I created our group with my friends, called Gift AND Gratitude. We are not them and they are not us.

Someone said to me recently that I should trademark my group’s name, etc. but I think that defeats the purpose of a gifting group in the first place. Just like I think the people who literally shop gifting groups, so they can resell items or take advantage of people deserve a special place in hell.

So I’m going to chalk up Gifting With Gratitude groups as simply not us. We are a one off, not playing follow the leader whomever that is.

I even found a post on an unfamiliar blog about Gifting With Gratitude.

Gifting groups are supposed to be a good thing, not a reason to be competitive with women you don’t like on social media on a hyper local level. Not that I’m not unfamiliar with that, because people have tried to do that with gardening groups who didn’t like my gardening group, also on Facebook.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I suppose. Mostly, it just amuses me. I didn’t start a gifting group to sit at the popular girls lunch table, after all. I started a gifting group because I thought it was the right thing to do. And that’s why you should start a gifting group, to pay it forward in your community as opposed to making it pay.

Thanks for stopping by.