Tag: American Bandstand

It’s the Time of Year to Share Our Childhood Memories

This time of year is prone to dredge up memories of long ago tucked away in the recesses of one’s mind. I’m not quite certain it’s the holidays or perhaps that whole getting older and long-term memory that creates a sudden rush of childhood recollections.

I simply know that they are coming in droves.

Of course there is that desire to recapture earlier times spent with family and friends, laced with bittersweet emotions of loss and regret.

For myself living so far from my childhood home I find a lack of snow matters. No blanket of white feels as if an old friend that visited every season has deserted me in lieu of palm trees and blue skies.

Now believe me I’m not saying slipping and sliding along the streets in the cold and slush would be preferable, but there was something about falling snowflakes that just felt right.

I also seem focused on school around the holidays.

We strained at the bit to reach that last day before winter break when a teacher would dress up as Santa and pass out candy canes and Vernor’s Ginger Ale.

Our elementary school was named after James Vernor of the ginger ale company so they gifted us with their soda and candy canes each year.

Santa would be played by a teacher covered in a beard and of course we would whisper about who it might be as we waited in line for our treats.

Childhood seemed quite naïve and innocent so small moments were intensified and more special. We even believed hiding in the school basement under asbestos pipes would prevent an atom bomb from harming us. Silly, right?

Or that a wooden desk would hide us from a nuclear blast.  Either they didn’t know the truth or weren’t about to share it with all of us. Seems so foolish now.

Baby Boomers lived a life full of new discoveries. Television began small and black and white forcing us at times to strain to see the picture among snowy waves.

We used rabbit ear antennas on the television set covered with aluminum foil to enhance the signal as we moved them back and forth while our brother directed until the picture clarity was optimum.

Snowy or clear we rushed home to watch the Mickey Mouse Club and later American Bandstand. Our eyes transfixed on this new way to be entertained and transfixed.

I begged my mother to let me stay up and watch Milton Berle on Tuesday nights and still vividly remember the Texaco servicemen that started the show.

We had strange puppets like Rootie Kazootie and Howdy Doody with visible strings. We never minded or enjoyed them any less; in fact, being able to discern the strings was part of the fun. Every kid wanted to be part of the peanut gallery. Then, when a TV dinner on a metal tray table was added to the mix, it all seemed too perfect.

We even had party lines on the phone for a short time as the new technology was growing faster than the company could provide. Limiting use the phone to only certain times seems comical now when we can’t put it down for a minute.

Could you imagine kids today being told they had to share their phone with someone else? I believe it would lead to some violent revolution.

But to us it was a new magical instrument we were happy to have for any amount of time. A new way to broaden our horizons and communicate with friends.

There was no Google, only sets of Encyclopedias, no computers, only visits to the library branch nearest our homes.

We could spend a lazy summer afternoon reading and sharing comic books like Archie, Katy Keene or Superman with friends munching on snacks. Candy bars were two cents or a nickel and we drank cherry cokes or chocolate phosphates at soda counters served up by kids in white jackets and hats.

We played hopscotch, four square, jumped rope, played jacks and roller skated in metal skates with our key on a ribbon around our neck. Marbles clinked along the sidewalk and we traded movie star pictures cut out of fan magazines.

We ordered the scholastic books from school and couldn’t wait to read them when they arrived.

It seemed the smallest things were a big deal back then. Including rushing over to the first neighbor’s house on the block to own a color television.

Obviously, I’m waxing nostalgic about a time that is now gone forever. Our grandchildren are living in a new world filled with things we only read about in science fiction novels.

Technology that causes my eyes to glaze over as my kids or grandkids attempt to explain it to me.

Our children do battle to keep them innocent and away from the screens and kudos to them for doing so. Yet the world changes each day and new innovation is now moving at a faster pace than ever before.

I’m certain someday our grandchildren will look back on their childhoods with a sense of joy and wonder as we do, at least I hope so.

Was our innocence a good or bad trait? Were we blindsided a bit finding the future was often as scary as Orwell had predicted, or Flash Gordon was actually Neil Armstrong? Were we literally over the moon when man first landed there in front of our eyes?

Am I implying Baby Boomers don’t embrace this new world and its wonders? Heck no! We are all into it big time and enjoying the ride. It’s just nice to wax nostalgic at times and remember our innocence.

Each generation will experience new and uncharted roads to travel. I hope wonder and peace will continue to be a part of their journey. I know it was ours. As much as things change one thing never does…the smell of a turkey roasting in the oven on Thanksgiving. We can all be thankful for that.

Please share your memories with me, I’d love to hear them.

Is it me or Has Everyone on Planet Earth Lost Their Mind?

Is it me or Has Everyone on Planet Earth Lost Their Mind?

It’s pretty well accepted we are born into one world and leave another.

Although this has always been the case, I believe Baby Boomers are leaving the strangest world yet.

It’s truly amazing that anyone born shortly after World War II spends a great deal of time talking about how different life was back then and it’s been my experience my generation is quite confused by the insanity which we have suddenly found ourselves a part.

This planet is bats..t crazy.

After the war America was suddenly in a new world position. We were the cowboys in the white hats that had swept in and saved the planet from the bad guys. We were Gary Cooper and John Wayne combined and had cleaned up Dodge City.

The evil axis had been destroyed and now life was moving forward with a whole new attitude except…

Yep, even as a child I remember there were problems to deal with.

Russia and China. Okay, sounds familiar right?

I guess some things never change. We took cover in the school basements to protect from atom bombs. Heard tests of air raid sirens and watched as neighbors dug holes in their back yards to build fallout shelters.

To say I was terrified of Red China would be an understatement. But I’m twice as scared now.

Politics aside and that’s where they should stay, childhood was an amazing time in America.

The fifties were filled with exciting new inventions like television and telephones in every home, and all kinds of new gadgets.

I remember my first HiFi. Wow, and even those little red record center fillers for 45s seemed high tech to us.

We thought the world was a really cool place. Between the Mickey Mouse Club and American Bandstand we felt such a part of everything.

We played outside until the streetlights came on, walked to the corner to purchase penny candy like licorice records and wax lips and the latest comic books; my friends and I just lived for those Archie Annuals. Then we would carry our treasured comics home in a bag with our sunflower seeds and candy to read and share the rest of the day.

Life was so simple and so amazing. Of course we were kids so there was no real awareness of problems that plagued our parents; and that’s the point isn’t it. Our parents tried to keep us unaware of the difficult issues of the times. Unaware that polio was sweeping the nation even as we happened to pass the TV and see a picture of a scary iron lung that might have given us nightmares.

We didn’t pay any attention to politics, which is why we grew up healthy and normal.

When politics finally entered the picture so did protests, drugs, death and confusion.

We played games like jump rope, hopscotch, monopoly and Mr. Potato Head, and of course Operation.

My friends and I cut movie star pictures out of magazines like Photoplay and Modern Screen and then traded them like baseball cards.

We chewed the bubble gum and saved the baseball cards and boy do I wish I still had some of those cards today.

We rode our bikes everywhere and after school the neighborhood kids played baseball or football in the street. We spent the day roller-skating up and down the block with our skate key around our neck on a ribbon. Then happily ran inside to get our money when we heard the Good Humor truck ring its bell.

We knew our neighbors and we acted respectfully toward everyone.

In the winter we put on our snowsuits, boots, scarves and gloves and braved the walk to school, then home again for lunch, then back again, then finally home to sit in front of the TV watching the few channels playing our favorite shows. We were terrified of our teachers and being sent to the principal’s office was tantamount to as bad as it gets.

We walked to the movie theatre on Saturdays to watch a double feature or a matinee of fun flicks like The Blob, I was a Teenage Werewolf or Gidget.

We ate Oreos for an after school snack with a large glass of cold milk and at dinnertime we all sat together at the kitchen table, eating and discussing the day.

Bedtime was bedtime and we couldn’t stay up except on Tuesday night when I got to stay up later to watch Milton Berle, probably the first drag queen before we ever knew what a drag queen was. Most nights I would listen to my cool, new clock radio until I fell asleep.

Our fathers pushed the lawn mower around the grass on Sundays after a brunch filled with favorite foods.

To shop on Saturdays we hopped on a bus and went downtown to big department stores. We felt so grown up when we got to eat lunch in the dining room where stores like Hudson’s featured kids meals.

We could hang out at the record store for hours, then go home and play a new favorite singing and dancing around the living room practicing the newest steps.

We knew the names of everyone on Bandstand, what Soupy Sales was having for lunch the next day and that Hi Yo Silver meant a guy in a black mask and his faithful companion Tonto would soon be riding in to clean up the town. We watched Sky King and Fury on Saturdays and never noticed that the scenery on Star Trek was made up of Christmas lights.

We were incredibly innocent and Lord do I wish I still were.

I feel badly that children today are being subjected to politics and brainwashing and sadly losing their youth to political agendas.

There is a lot to be said for being protected from the hardships of life unless and until one is forced to face them.

It was different times and Baby Boomers shared a bond those programs provided. To this day “Yo Rinty” is a call to which every one our age responds.

Sure, some might say I’m coloring the past with an overly optimistic brush. Perhaps, but from the reaction of my friends when I wax nostalgic and they jump in with their own fond memories, I think not.

I look around this strange, insane world and am reminded someone once said ignorance is bliss; I choose to believe it’s actually a blessing.

The Tao of the Baby Boomer

The Tao of the Baby Boomer

Yes it’s true I write a great deal about getting older. Usually I try to include humor in my tirades just to ease the pain a bit, but lately I find myself at a loss about how to stem the tide of gray hair, muscles morphing into fat and turning up the television sound at regular intervals.

Oh sure we all share the same trials and tribulations about the passing years and I’ve often thought that the Baby Boomer generation, who I believe, and more so every day was one of the smartest groups to populate the earth, should have some answers. 

However, as I meditate on the past and the idols we all shared I’m coming up a bit empty on the whole self-help front. What exactly should we have learned from the childhood icons we spent our time watching and adoring?

I’m starting with Clarabell. Don’t mock yet, for in thinking about this silent clown who preferred to communicate though a horn I have discovered so much wisdom my mind truly boggles.

First and foremost to my knowledge no one ever told us why he honked instead of talking like regular people.

So was it to promote silence? Nope, don’t think so since that damn horn was noisy and annoying. I’d rather he spout Shakespeare than keep violating my ears with that racket, so what did we learn here? Or perhaps should have learned?

Perhaps Clarabell was trying to teach us that sometimes we can communicate without the need for words. A smile, a beep, a wink or a hand gesture, and I think we all know that a hand gesture can indeed speak volumes, can suffice when communicating our thoughts.

Did he also want us to learn that we need to look behind the mask and make up human beings may use to cover up their feelings at times and see the real person? That digging deeper is sometimes a true act of charity when someone needs our help. So was the message wasted? How many of us have sought to determine whether or not someone is truly hurting when they portray a mask of unkindness to the world? Have we reached out and learned Clarabell’s lesson or merely walked away when we could have helped?

Of course most importantly is the lesson of silence. How many times have we spoken and regretted our words? How many times have we kept silent and made a greater impact? Many I assume. I know I have.

I could never speak of idols without including the great Bugs Bunny. Oh the lessons here were too numerous to mention, but one of my very favorites was wearing a mask to achieve our ends in life? No, I haven’t lost it altogether, although I admit I’m pretty close after watching the news this morning. If you will reach back into your memory banks and visualize Bugs in red lipstick and a bear trap in his mouth seductively stopping the Tasmanian Devil in his steps, you will agree that sometimes make up can do wonders. No, I don’t mean in the sense we can stop a mugger by applying lipstick, but that when we face the world both friends and adversaries, oftentimes it is necessary to wear a different face in diverse situations. We must morph into that which will achieve our ultimate goal and secure what we are seeking. In other words knowing our opponent is a special power that one might even call a super power if, we are Marvel fans.

Whether it is to close a multi-million dollar deal or simply convince a salesperson to return a sweater that pilled too quickly, our superpower is in knowing how to handle others. Thank you, Bugs. Of course it is also obvious that a little lipstick and great haircut will do wonders for seducing the opposite sex, and we probably have the Bugmeister to thank for that lesson. If he can stop the Tasmanian Devil, we can secure a second date.

American Bandstand’s lesson is an easy one, you can actually dance your troubles away and Dick Clark had found the Fountain of Youth. Although the dancing part gets a bit sketchy when you’re recovering from that knee replacement.

No list of learning would be complete without the Mickey Mouse Club. So what did we learn from the people with the mouse ears? So much. For example did you know Wednesday is anything-can-happen day? Every week I couldn’t wait for Wednesday and although I watched diligently the other four days, it was the excitement of not knowing what might happen that kept me glued to the old black and white TV set. 

This was a truly important lesson that I have carried with me my entire life. For if we’ve learned nothing from our stay on this planet it is that there is no knowing, no magic power that can prepare us for what is to come. This is the yin and yang that truly defines life. For it is the thrill of the unknown paired with the fear of tomorrow that makes life so seductive. Will tomorrow be a better day or bring more problems?Will I laugh or cry when the sun rises and am I the one who ultimately determines which that will be?

Perhaps a bit of both I say.

How many people have visited a psychic and the first thing they say is, “don’t tell me anything bad.” Ah, so there are conditions on us knowing the future after all. 

So anything can happen day is a double-edged sword. Of course on the Mickey Mouse Club it was always something fun, but in real life we’ve learned perhaps not so much all the time.

Of course there are many more examples of the Tao of the Baby Boomer or as the Mandalore put it, “This is the Way.” I shall continue to write about them from time to time and I’d love to hear from readers as well about, so please write.

In the end growing old is nothing to joke about, or is it? Is this what we have learned from all the upbeat icons of the past after all? Is it our responsibility to take the knowledge of the past and find some comfort and often much humor in what has come before?

What lessons can we embrace each day to better our lives?

First, don’t watch the news. Call a friend each day and laugh together. Count five things we are grateful for and damnit, I don’t care what anyone says, eat chocolate! I sometimes go on YouTube and pull up the acts of my favorite comedians and just sit and laugh. It does actually help and if you have some chocolate while you’re laughing, well I believe they call that achieving nirvana.

I truly believe there is no magic bullet for aging despite all those who profess to know the answers, but I do know that sharing the creaking bones, anemic metabolism and every new wrinkle with friends helps. And when you’re having a really bad day just remember what Clarabell always said…

From Clarabell to COVID-19. Have Baby Boomers Come Full Circle?

spaghettipie

 

 

From Clarabell to COVID-19.

Have Baby Boomers Come Full Circle?

As a child, Wednesday was my favorite day. Why? Well as any Baby Boomer knows that was “Anything Could Happen Day.”

This piece of information means little to anyone under seventy of course, but to my generation not privy to the wonders of Alexa and Instagram, “Anything Can Happen Day” meant mystery, excitement and something unique was about to enter our unsophisticated worlds.

For those of you who don’t remember and I’m sure you’re few, “Anything Can Happen Day” was the weekday on the Mickey Mouse Club when we could be surprised by a guest, adventure or anything out of the ordinary.

The other days we pretty much knew what to expect. Monday was “Fun With Music” Tuesday was the guest star, Thursday was “Circus” and Friday was “Talent Round Up.” We were also treated to serials like Spin and Marty, Corky and White Shadow, Annette, The Hardy Boys, all shows we anticipated and watched faithfully? Okay, why?

Was it merely because we secretly longed to be Mouseketeers or Meesketeers like Cubby and Karen? Were the Mooseketeers, Roy and Jimmy with his “mouseguitar” so appealing? Beats me, but I’d love to hear some thoughts and opinions about why we were so dedicated to those mouse ears.

As you probably guessed I have some theories or I wouldn’t have brought this up in the first place.

I think it was partly the thrill of belonging to something that was not only featured on that great new innovation that possessed us called television, but also that these kids were our age.

Our worlds back in the fifties were very small and protected. Most families had one car and we walked to school. Our friends were in our own neighborhoods and within walking distance, which is why we socialized with kids on our block.

Suddenly there was this new great invention that took us to worlds far away with people outside our sphere.

We became interested in their lives and adventures and felt a part of some strange new unique planet we could reach by simply turning a knob.

The Mickey Mouse ears were a symbol of something beyond ourselves and outside our comfort zones that made us feel energized and curious.

We were joiners back then, Soupy Sales had his Birdbath Club with its membership card and we could also buy and wear our own mouse ears.

We were cub, brownies, girl and boy scouts and this belonging seemed to come natural to us.

The delight in the assurance the world was far larger than our small corner made us hunger for more.

After we outgrew the Mouse, and I’m not certain we ever really did because Disney has remained a big part of all our lives, it was all about American Bandstand.

We rushed home from school to watch ABC’s daily dose of teen addiction as all the regulars danced their way through the show. There was a guest singing and chatting with Dick Clark or as I refer to him, the Dorian Gray of our generation. That man never aged and although he was a nice man I’m sure he had a picture in the attic somewhere that was growing old while he stayed young.

Just like the Mickey Mouse years we reveled in the feeling of being a part of the Bandstand phenomenon and bought magazines to keep up with the lives of regulars like Pat Molittieri, Justine Carrelli, Bob Clayton, Arlene Sullivan, Kenny Rossi and Carole Scaldeferri.

Wow! I’m freaking out right now that I remembered those names without having to look them up. Please don’t ask me what I had for lunch yesterday but fifty years ago, no problem. Actually the sixties are much clearer to me now than when I lived them.

But I digress.

What does it say about our generation that we were so willing to leap on the bandwagon and embrace Howdy Doody, Soupy, Micky and Bandstand?

Can we judge it as negative or was it truly one of the most positive things we ever encountered?

Okay, I’m going with positive here and not just because all my readers know how I feel about Black Tooth and White Fang.

Those early shows actually shaped our characters more than we knew and the lessons were subliminally woven through the fabric of our lives.

First, we became eager participants in society. Our experiences with these shows or the clubs they offered were positive reinforcement for the importance of being a part of something greater that existed outside oneself.

Second, it provided a better sense of the vastness of the universe. Our worlds were small and contained, but we were suddenly able to travel to distant lands and observe places that offered us new adventures in addition to reading. Sure, we had the cardboard spaceship of Flash Gordon, but no one was buying that whole flying-through-space-on-that-primitive- paper-cutout were they?

Third, it taught us that knowledge could be obtained anywhere. Outside of the schoolroom we continued to learn and grow as individuals.

And perhaps one of the most hidden and obscure subliminal messages came from Clarabell, Howdy’s favorite clown. No, I haven’t lost what’s left of my mind. Although he could only honk his horn to converse we realized that speech isn’t the only path to understanding and communication, and often we need to listen with our ears, instincts and at times our hearts.

We also discovered that “Anything Can Happen Day” is not only a metaphor for life because each day is unknown, but something we should embrace and if we’re open to the unexpected many amazing journeys await us.

There was nothing overt about these lessons and they seeped into our souls without our awareness they’d found a home. Yet they colored our lives, helped create the people we became and still today remain part of whom we are.

So by now you’re wondering how COVID-19 enters into this discussion. Well sadly it seems to have brought us full circle.

All the lessons of our childhoods that propelled us out into the world to travel, socialize and absorb are now stifled by this horrible invader that has us locked down. Once again we are watchers in front of the television and sadly at a time when most of us are free and able to move about in the world.

Okay, so it’s a flat screen nowadays and a great deal larger than the twelve-inch RCA black and white, but we’ve returned to living vicariously once again.

We must be content with travelogues instead of that trip to Tuscany we planned. We watch that chef prepare his special lobster bisque instead of visiting his restaurant in New York to taste it first hand.

We watch the Disney channel to keep up with our grandchildren’s favorite new shows, talk about coming full circle that damn mouse never left.

Sure, we’re back in front of the television again and of course there are far more options than the couple of channels we had as kids, but we’re prohibited from socializing, traveling or seeking those adventures we were programmed to undertake and embrace.

So life has changed and I know I’m not the only one anxious to get back out and live.

So please Clarabell, honk your horn for a cure for COVID so we can hear, see, love, live and engage without the need for Netflix.

Spaghetti Pie

1 generous serving of spaghetti cooked

2 eggs

1 cup of grated Parmesan cheese

1 cup of spaghetti sauce

6 Meatballs broken up

1 cup of shredded mozzarella cheese

1-8 ounce package of cream cheese

1 tablespoon of chives dried or fresh

1 tablespoon of olive oil

Salt and pepper

Place your cooked spaghetti in a bowl and add Parmesan cheese and 2 eggs and mix together well. Spray a 10-inch pie pan and place spaghetti inside pushing it up the sides to form a piecrust.

Place in a 350 degree oven and cook for 10 minutes until partially set. Set aside

Mix together your cream cheese and chives.

Scatter meatballs in a layer over spaghetti crust. Cover with a layer of sauce. Dollop the cream cheese on top and sprinkle some mozzarella cheese on top.

Roll out piecrust to fit over top of pie pan with enough to tuck edge of crust under rim.

Cut in pie slices and serve hot. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nostalgia Or Delusion: Was Childhood As Great As All That?

lellis

Nostalgia Or Delusion: Was Childhood As Great As All That?

Okay. I do it too. I remember the past, especially my childhood with enormous longing. Simpler times, great friends, peaceful, unfettered days filled with innocence and fun.

We join groups on Facebook that provide us with a non-stop stream of memories, many long forgotten and we commiserate about the haunts and foods of our youth. Sharing with others that lived the same existence adds a new dimension and warmth to the entire experience. It can also get impassioned when the topic of the best neighborhood pizza arises.

One post and the flow of incoming additions are abundant. I can almost picture the look on everyone’s face as they reminisce about the restaurant where they held their tenth birthday party. Or perhaps a favorite teacher that filled them with confidence or fear.

Yet, although I’m incredibly guilty of these moments of reflection, I wonder if perhaps there is a bit of sugar coating mixed in with the feelings of warmth and longing.

Do we remember the past wearing rose-colored glasses? Is it because we see life back then only in terms of abstracts and happy memories designed to cover up any unhappiness we might have once felt?

I remember growing up in Detroit as idyllic. Not in a fairy-tale manner of course, nor do I believe it was Utopia, but rather a peaceful and vibrant city filled with fun activities, great friends and no lack of great restaurants, movie theaters and tree-lined streets with manicured lawns.

Recalling youthful snippets flashing by like a trailer from a new Hollywood movie, I always choose to recall joyful images.

Going to the movies was a regular occurrence and my favorite was the Mercury Theater on Schaeffer. I’m afraid it spoiled me for other movie houses with its sidewalls lined with light-reflecting murals of the galaxy. Many times I enjoyed staring at the artwork more than the feature and sadly came to expect a great deal from any future movie venues I frequented. I also remember noting a giant banner under the marquis reading “air-conditioned for your comfort.” Bet my grandsons wouldn’t believe there was a time without it. Boy, am I aging myself here.

Yet it’s so odd that these memories seem to eclipse other more personal ones that were unpleasant. The high school mean girl who singled you out as her victim one day, or a boy you liked asking out a friend. Yep, guess it wasn’t all wine and roses.

Or is it just that at a certain stage of life we refuse to acknowledge time spent unhappily? Is there a great need to embrace those happy moments and hold them close before they may fade forever?

Whenever I tell people I’m from Detroit they look at me as though I’m packing a gun. This image was especially true during the more lawless years when crime was rampant before the rest of the nation caught and far bypassed the motor city. When I replied that Detroit was an awesome city in which to grow up, they were incredulous.

Yet, I’m certain I’m not dreaming when I remember Palmer Park ice skating, Livernois Avenue shopping, turning and seeing Smokey Robinson driving next to you on Outer Drive, downtown Hudson’s, the Eastern Market, great schools, amazing food and crossing the Ambassador Bridge or driving through the tunnel to Windsor. It was always fun to see the flags change between America and Canada on the tiles halfway across.

Now I wonder if it’s just age that makes us long for those simpler days, when the community was small and holidays seemed to be shared by everyone, or you could walk alone to a friend’s house five blocks away or play outside until the street lights came on.

People knew their Sanders, Awry’s or Good Humor deliveryman by name and when we heard the bell we ran into the house to let our mother know great goodies were available curbside.

Perhaps one reason those days seem so unfettered and blissful are the turbulent times we’re living today. So often I feel badly for my grandchildren in such a chaotic world, but will they also look back someday on their childhood with rose-colored glasses?

Is it merely that mankind keeps muddling the waters and the years fill with more chaos as they fly past?

Was it really so Utopian or am I choosing to overlook the cold war and neighbors building fall-out shelters in their back yards?

Forgetting hearing the bell in school as we walked downstairs to the basement of our elementary school to sit next to an asbestos-covered pipe to hide from an atom bomb? I imagine many more people died from that asbestos than an atom bomb, that thank goodness never came.

Am I forgetting the Detroit riots, eating my Frosted Flakes while watching a black girl my age on television being escorted into school by the National Guard, the McCarthy hearings or Viet Nam? Or watching Hitchcock’s Psycho and needing my mother to sit in the bathroom with me until I was, well, I still do, and believing it was all so stress free?

Or is this a result of the fact we are in the midst of true craziness where the world seems upside down?

It was easy when we were children to figure it all out. Good, bad, hard, easy, right, wrong; the lines seem so blurred now.

So I just sit and commiserate with friends about those simpler times when whether or not things were good, we believed they were. When life was less confusing and neighbors sat out on the porch on a summer evening to catch a cool breeze and smoke a cigarette.

When I rushed home from school to watch American Bandstand and we spent the weekends reading Archie, Superman or Katy Keene comics and exchanging movie star pictures cut out of Photoplay or Modern Screen.

After school eating a creamsicle on the porch watching the neighborhood boys play baseball or football in the street. Or jumping on the pile of leaves my father had raked to burn at the curb filling the air with the smell of autumn and visions of Halloween soon to come.

I’d rather focus on those good times than turn on a news report, or think about the fact I have to miss my grandson’s graduation or birthday party because an evil virus has created havoc.

As time goes by the years fly faster and any time not spent in the here and now seems so wasted. Yet if I gain some small modicum of happiness holding on to some pleasant memories where is the harm?

Many may say it’s more important to live your life in the present than dwell on the past, and yes it is. Still in these times when we are not able to create as many happy memories with friends and family I will default to the ones I possess. Someday we may even choose to remember how good it was back then, even in this very turbulent moment in time.

 

Lelli’s Like Minestrone

1 large onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, chopped
1/2 stick butter
2 cans (16 oz. ea.) Veg-All
2 cans (14 oz. ea.) chicken broth
20 oz. northern white kidney beans
1 can (14 oz.) whole tomatoes, chopped
1/2 pkg. frozen spinach (or fresh)
2 T. tomato paste
2 T. garlic powder
2 T. chopped parsley
1 t. salt
1/4 t. pepper
1/2 t. basil
1/3 c. cooked small macaroni
1/3 c. heavy whipping cream
1/4 c. Parmesan cheese
a small amount of chick peas (optional). I never use these.

  1. Sauté onion and garlic in butter
    2. In a large soup pot, put Veg-All, chicken broth, northern beans, whole tomatoes and all liquids from cans.
    3. Add spinach, tomato paste, garlic powder, parsley, salt, pepper, basil, sautéed onion and garlic.
    4. Cook slowly for 1 1/2 hours.
    5. Take 1/2 of the soup and blend in food processor. I use an immersion blender and it’s so much easier.
    6. Pour it back in the soup pot.
    7. Add macaroni and heavy cream.
    8. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese.
    9. Stir.
    10. Cook slowly 1/2 hour.