Mammary Memory

Thinking about being 9 and Fr. Chapman asking Bruno B. and me to read at 10 am mass. Ummm talk about major playground cred for AT LEAST a week! Then we found that one of the readings contained the word "Breast." Oh, hell no! No self respecting 9 yr old says breast in front of the world. I was a mess all week thinking about it. When it came time to read, I jumped up and pretended to be confused and read the non mammary reading. Sorry, Bruno. I'm thinking that I heard you worked at a topless bar for awhile...... I owe you.

Art McGowan Should Friend Me!

Ahhhhh, Art McGowan. Class of 76, senior stud for the ages, the ULTIMATE Mount Saint Mary's Rocket. Five reasons he should friend me...


#5. That small little scratch on the side door of your pristine 76 maroon convertible Corvette? May or may not have been due to me leaning over it to toss you a note and the zipper of my freshman cheer skirt catching on the door latch. So, ok, I had to have someone cut me out of the skirt, jerk it free and walk back to the school from the hallowed senior parking lot clad only in Danskin cheer tights. I DID later earn the honor of class favorite. Maybe that whole event was a blessing....

#4. Sure, everyone likes to credit Greg Robinson for the miracle, come from behind win by the Underdog Rockets over the Millwood Falcons. I ALWAYS correct people and tell them the real story. How you rallied an uninspired coach, a lackluster team of louts, who just wanted to let the game clock expire so they could get to Shakey's, and a despondent water boy by jamming a cleat in your wrist, drawing blood and working out the winning play on your white football pants and saving the day.

#3. Due to your heroic feats on the field, you had a slight injury and had to ride the elevator to class with Sister Justina the elevator operator for a week. I quickly manufactured an injury and happily doused myself with Charlie perfume for a pre 4th hour ride for a solid week. Ok, so maybe the last day I passed nervous freshman gas and when you wrinkled your nose, I rolled my eyes and gave Sister Justina a look of per disgust. I'm quite sure that the smell of Charlie and tacos still makes you think of her.

# ‎2. Hey, tell your dad I'm sorry about the time Lisa Worley and Trish got me all liquored up on an ounce of Bacardi and dared me to ring your doorbell and flash you. How was I to know that your dad would answer?

# ‎1. You can friend me with complete confidence in the justice system. They have anti-stalking laws now.

Smelling The Spelling Test

All memos today will be produced on Big Chief Tablets...No copy machines are available. You must use the mimeograph machine and make dittos. The good news is that everyone will get high off the chemicals of their spelling test and produce beautiful art, music and writing. The bad news is we will flunk the spelling test

Sweet And Sour

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Roller coaster kind of week! You know how they say when you lose a love, you shouldn’t listen to the radio? There will be that random song which rips your heart out and serves it up with a side of salty tears. Yeah, it’s like that when you lose a love- no matter how you lose ‘em.



My week has been like that. Week - how ‘bout life? All of our lives are like this. Nothing will teach you to live in the moment like life! It will kick your ass hard and then envelope you with love, laughing, dancing, singing and magic, awesome sauce.



This week I got a hard kick in the ass over my sweet Jeannie. She’s my sis in law. She’s more than that! She was my extra sister. She was the “Oh, hell yeah you are going to go take your driver’s license test NOW," drink a little, smoke a little, get out of your comfort zone a little instigator we should all be so lucky to have!



For some reason, this week the wound of losing her was ripped wide open over and over again. Whoever murmured that platitude about closure is a moron! There is no closure! The wound stays. Maybe over time, it’s less painful, but you cannot go to the ER and have them stitch up this gaping hole.



Perhaps, because I am prone to joking around and try to keep sadness or darkness at bay, life decided that I need to acknowledge the wound a little more and pay heed. It started Monday, when I was elected to carry out a little family tradition that Jeannie always did. Happy and honored to do it, but it opened up that wound and let it bleed.



Instead of carefully selecting IPod tunes for my run this week, I took a chance. Yep! I could have just clicked to another song, but somehow that just seemed cowardly and false. It seemed like it was meant to be. Maybe I needed to let it go. I had never even heard this song before, as it was a fairly new album download. So I let the song play and Wednesday saw me running down the path with tears streaming down my face. People were staring. “Why the fuck is this chick running down the path crying like a freaking drama queen?”



And then there was today. Went to FEDEX to drop off an overnight package for my niece, Jordan. The guy pulls up my account, sees the address and prints out the label. As he shoves it across the counter, I see the name of the Addressee: Jeannie Hazelton. Arrrgh! RRRRRIIIIP! I then remember that I sent Jeannie tickets to see Poltz at The Blue Door to celebrate remission a couple of years ago I quietly ask them to change the name. It felt like I was wiping away her essence by having them change the name; that I was acknowledging the loss and the finality of it. Kind of silly and sentimental, but that’s how it felt.



They guy is like, “Are you sure?” And I almost yell! Susie, who is almost always unfailingly polite to everyone, gets a little grumpy! “Yes, I am SURE!” I glare at him.



As it is not in my nature to get sideways with people, I feel the inexplicable need to explain. WTF?!?! “Umm, sorry. It’s just that she…well, she is not with us, umm she is gone…umm she is deceased and seeing her name would just open up the wound for her kids.” I can’t even look at him while I am mumbling all this shit. I am an emotional, unhinged freakazoid who’s been released to wander about in public places…



He nods and prints another label. It felt so, I don’t know, so FINAL.



He then reaches across and briefly touches my hand. “Hey, I understand. That was hard. I am sorry for your loss. It’s cool that you are looking out for those kids. I can’t say that anything will be okay, but I CAN say that you are lucky to have that kind of love for someone.”



So true, Kevin from FEDEX, so true... And thanks for extending a little sweet dose of humanity in the course of your day. May good karma come to you always…..

MEDICINE
Steve Poltz

“And you were still alive and you greet me with a hug.”

This medicine is kicking in and gives my heart a tug.”