I am not sure exactly when ducktails emerged in Pawtucket
I can remember that when I was only 6 years old I would watch my Aunt Anna get dressed for her Saturday night dance. She went to a place called the German Club in Pawtucket or Warner's Dance Hall on Broad Street with her girl friends. In the summer she would go to Rhodes on the Pawtuxet and to Crescent Park or Rocky Point. Dancing was what people did then. That is how they met up--no MATCH.COM, not texting--they got dressed up and went out dancing.
Sometimes ANNA would complain when she came home about the greasers who had asked her to dance. And describe their slicked back long hair : their constant combing and touching of their hairstyles
Or even comment on the ZOOT Suiters swinging their long chains and walking along the line of women waiting to dance and then making their pick. Anna always refused--or so she told me and my mother as we sat listening with breathless excitement.
When ANNA was not home, I was not allowed to go into her room -- she would come out screaming like a BANSHEE after work when she discovered something disturbed in her fragrant kingdom.
And yes, we would wait up for ANNA to come back from the Saturday night dance, Anna was a real beauty--I adored her clothes and her make up and her fabulous jet black hair, long and curly.
I hope that my readers know that this is one thing that I am absolutely sure of--whatever was in style in 1949 --- was showing up on the streets of Pawtucket. Just as it does today. Sometimes driving down Newport Avenue I am amazed at the local adaptations of current styles
And the teenage versions of the latest styles actually showed up at Dick's.
But no one was asking anyone to dance.
They were more often looking for a fight.
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
BOYS IN LEATHER JACKETS
Why Dick's Variety was off -Limits
I guess I have dropped enough hints that the boys who invaded the Barrel Yard at Night were the same boys sitting around smoking at Dick's Variety Store.
They were boys who had duck tail haircuts all glossy and combed back. They often pulled alluring curls down over their foreheads like Superman's curl. They wore jeans and white t-shirts. But best of all they carried their cigarette packs rolled up in the left arm of their shirt. There was something so cool about that fact.
They were dangerous and no nice girl would ever speak to them.
And they gathered at Dick's. My mother never sent me to Dick's for groceries. So what excuse did I have for dropping by DICK's--but only if I was alone??\
Dick kept a large cooler full of ice and soda bottles-no cans-- just by the door. That was the draw on a hot summer day. I would go in and grab a soda and pay my dime and then drink it outside. I never said a word. There was a rough wooden shelf along one side of the store and some of the customers would sit there inside with their cold drinks. They often had chugging contests. I would stand and watch--then after awhile if there was an empty spot, I would sit down.
I watched and tried to see how they did it. In one continuous draining gulp.
I started to practice with cold water and an empty soda bottle at home. I choked at first but then as I learned to relax my throat I could let an entire bottle of water glide down. I began saving my dimes.
So I never spoke there unless someone spoke to me. VERY RARE.
One day-- a hot July day I squeezed in with about 6 boys and as each of them popped the top of the bottle they would say "I'm in." That day I chimed in "I'm in too," I did not expect to win--that is finish first--but I did know that I could finish
What I hadn't expected was the fizz of the orange soda up my nose.
I didn't choke, but I had to go slow--I finished last--but I finished.
After that the boys spoke to me, they asked me my name and if they were chugging, so was I.
That was a beginning and in a sense that was the end. Nothing else happened. I was only 9 years old; they were teenagers.
Then one day something scary happened--not to me--No, but right in front of me
I guess I have dropped enough hints that the boys who invaded the Barrel Yard at Night were the same boys sitting around smoking at Dick's Variety Store.
They were boys who had duck tail haircuts all glossy and combed back. They often pulled alluring curls down over their foreheads like Superman's curl. They wore jeans and white t-shirts. But best of all they carried their cigarette packs rolled up in the left arm of their shirt. There was something so cool about that fact.
They were dangerous and no nice girl would ever speak to them.
And they gathered at Dick's. My mother never sent me to Dick's for groceries. So what excuse did I have for dropping by DICK's--but only if I was alone??\
Dick kept a large cooler full of ice and soda bottles-no cans-- just by the door. That was the draw on a hot summer day. I would go in and grab a soda and pay my dime and then drink it outside. I never said a word. There was a rough wooden shelf along one side of the store and some of the customers would sit there inside with their cold drinks. They often had chugging contests. I would stand and watch--then after awhile if there was an empty spot, I would sit down.
I watched and tried to see how they did it. In one continuous draining gulp.
I started to practice with cold water and an empty soda bottle at home. I choked at first but then as I learned to relax my throat I could let an entire bottle of water glide down. I began saving my dimes.
So I never spoke there unless someone spoke to me. VERY RARE.
One day-- a hot July day I squeezed in with about 6 boys and as each of them popped the top of the bottle they would say "I'm in." That day I chimed in "I'm in too," I did not expect to win--that is finish first--but I did know that I could finish
What I hadn't expected was the fizz of the orange soda up my nose.
I didn't choke, but I had to go slow--I finished last--but I finished.
After that the boys spoke to me, they asked me my name and if they were chugging, so was I.
That was a beginning and in a sense that was the end. Nothing else happened. I was only 9 years old; they were teenagers.
Then one day something scary happened--not to me--No, but right in front of me
DO I WANT TO WATCH THE NBA FINALS?
STOP THE SLAUGHTER
IN THE THIRD QUARTER
I am not filled with enthusiasm. I do not want to watch another Curry and the GSW victorious. I do not want to see LeBron hasten his demise by doing too any super-human feats on the basketball court.
Will I have my TV tuned to the game on Thursday night? Yes, I would be lying if I said --NO WAY.
But I will also carefully look for and select a movie on one of the other channels. I will put it in the Last Watched and I can switch in an instant if I hate what I am seeing.
I am going to wear my CAVS CAP and I did jump to it and ordered a LeBron Finals Shirt. SO I will be in full regalia for those few minutes that my team is in the lead.
Then if they lose, I will pull my shirt off like LeBron did in the tunnel when they lost the finals and he announced his flight to MIAMI.
I would like to take my talents elsewhere--any where with a milder winter and a more accessible house.
But my Aunt Grace once said something about my father and now I know she was right:
The Jenckes' are like the Blackstone River--we can run through Pawtucket but we can never really leave.
SHE WAS A WISE WOMAN-- and she was right, even Norman came back.
IN THE THIRD QUARTER
I am not filled with enthusiasm. I do not want to watch another Curry and the GSW victorious. I do not want to see LeBron hasten his demise by doing too any super-human feats on the basketball court.
Will I have my TV tuned to the game on Thursday night? Yes, I would be lying if I said --NO WAY.
But I will also carefully look for and select a movie on one of the other channels. I will put it in the Last Watched and I can switch in an instant if I hate what I am seeing.
I am going to wear my CAVS CAP and I did jump to it and ordered a LeBron Finals Shirt. SO I will be in full regalia for those few minutes that my team is in the lead.
Then if they lose, I will pull my shirt off like LeBron did in the tunnel when they lost the finals and he announced his flight to MIAMI.
I would like to take my talents elsewhere--any where with a milder winter and a more accessible house.
But my Aunt Grace once said something about my father and now I know she was right:
The Jenckes' are like the Blackstone River--we can run through Pawtucket but we can never really leave.
SHE WAS A WISE WOMAN-- and she was right, even Norman came back.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
REMEMBERING ED HOGAN
The Father Barry CYO on Denver Street in Pawtucket
Everything seemed to change in 1949-50 but it wasn't all bad. Disaster would wait until 1953 to strike.
But something new came into our lives when my mother became aware of the CYO Center on Denver St near the convents of the Sisters of Mercy and the White sisters--both now obliterated.
I don't know the extent of their programs now but I think the CYO building is still there.
No it is not --I just drove by to check and it has been torn down also to make way for what looks like a new gym building for Saint Raphael Academy.
But in 1950 -52 I do know that under the direction of Mr Ed Hogan they ran a day camp at Goddard Park in the Summer months. AND that he added a special two week camp for handicapped children--and he decided that could include my two sisters Janie and Sheila.
I do not know how my mother applied or even learned of this camp--it must have been someone in the parish or maybe through the good offices of JENARITA FOX, a Special Ed teacher of a class at Grove St School that my sisters attended.
My mother took it all a step further and brought me to meet Ed Hogan and asked if I could also attend the camp--that I loved to swim and had never been to a camp-- and that at home I was in charge of my two sisters. So he made me a "Junior Counselor" for two weeks and I was allowed to attend the camp free of charge and to help with the handicapped campers.
We were so happy to see a CYO bus pull up at our front door and we would all three run down the stairs and get on the bus. We carried little bags that held our towels and bathing suits and swim caps. And each of us had a lunch box.
I was beginning one of the greatest living and learning experiences of my 7 years, My sisters were with other children who had difficulties--not just Down Syndrome but some were deaf and dumb and some were autistic, and some simply refused to speak.
My job was to help with lunch, to step in if there were any fights, and to help the campers get into their swim suits and shower and change back into clothes after the swim. I also helped with ARTS AND CRAFTS. I learned a few new things like knitting, clay work and advanced Gimp.
The Camp operated with a BUDDY SYSTEM and it was my job each hour to blow my whistle--YES I HAD A WHISTLE!-- and to do a Buddy Check. This was especially crucial if we were in the water. If anyone was not near his buddy, we would take both children out of the water. That worked well and most were always close to their BUDDIES.
Will it surprise anyone if I say that my sisters loved it-- especially Janie. She loved company and she loved to talk--like me.
So she would babble without let up to the children who would not talk. NO INTERRUPTIONS!
There was one silent little boy who was fearful of just about everything. Janie would lead him everywhere and never stop talking about what was going on.
One day in the locker room after the swim a little miracle happened-- I was helping Janie and Sheila get dressed and I was buttoning their pinafores. And the boy was struggling nearby to get out of his wet t-shirt, with it over his head, he yelled out the first words he had spoken in years HELP ME, JANIE.
WE all heard it and someone ran out to get a Senior Counselor--
but that day he said no more. In fact he started to cry as we all crowded around, and Janie said "Leave him alone." And we did and Janie took up her usual tasks: Drying him off, adjusting his clothes and babbling about the day. When he came back the next day, he still would not speak when prompted, but with Janie he would repeat some of her words or just laugh along.
That Camp ended too soon for all of us.
I, who was so busy trying to hide my shameful stuttering, came to wonder if that Boy's silence was not just an extreme form of STUTTERING FEAR --he avoided all speech.
And I vowed not to avoid speech, but the big lesson that I learned was how much anyone hates to be always on the receiving end of HELP and CARE.
Each of us longs to be useful and to help. The BUDDY SYSTEM is a brilliant antidote to pity and self pity. Everyone is helping someone else.
The CYO CAMP was Ed Hogan's way to help my family and so many people in Pawtucket to learn how to help themselves by helping others.
Everything seemed to change in 1949-50 but it wasn't all bad. Disaster would wait until 1953 to strike.
But something new came into our lives when my mother became aware of the CYO Center on Denver St near the convents of the Sisters of Mercy and the White sisters--both now obliterated.
I don't know the extent of their programs now but I think the CYO building is still there.
No it is not --I just drove by to check and it has been torn down also to make way for what looks like a new gym building for Saint Raphael Academy.
But in 1950 -52 I do know that under the direction of Mr Ed Hogan they ran a day camp at Goddard Park in the Summer months. AND that he added a special two week camp for handicapped children--and he decided that could include my two sisters Janie and Sheila.
I do not know how my mother applied or even learned of this camp--it must have been someone in the parish or maybe through the good offices of JENARITA FOX, a Special Ed teacher of a class at Grove St School that my sisters attended.
My mother took it all a step further and brought me to meet Ed Hogan and asked if I could also attend the camp--that I loved to swim and had never been to a camp-- and that at home I was in charge of my two sisters. So he made me a "Junior Counselor" for two weeks and I was allowed to attend the camp free of charge and to help with the handicapped campers.
We were so happy to see a CYO bus pull up at our front door and we would all three run down the stairs and get on the bus. We carried little bags that held our towels and bathing suits and swim caps. And each of us had a lunch box.
I was beginning one of the greatest living and learning experiences of my 7 years, My sisters were with other children who had difficulties--not just Down Syndrome but some were deaf and dumb and some were autistic, and some simply refused to speak.
My job was to help with lunch, to step in if there were any fights, and to help the campers get into their swim suits and shower and change back into clothes after the swim. I also helped with ARTS AND CRAFTS. I learned a few new things like knitting, clay work and advanced Gimp.
The Camp operated with a BUDDY SYSTEM and it was my job each hour to blow my whistle--YES I HAD A WHISTLE!-- and to do a Buddy Check. This was especially crucial if we were in the water. If anyone was not near his buddy, we would take both children out of the water. That worked well and most were always close to their BUDDIES.
Will it surprise anyone if I say that my sisters loved it-- especially Janie. She loved company and she loved to talk--like me.
So she would babble without let up to the children who would not talk. NO INTERRUPTIONS!
There was one silent little boy who was fearful of just about everything. Janie would lead him everywhere and never stop talking about what was going on.
One day in the locker room after the swim a little miracle happened-- I was helping Janie and Sheila get dressed and I was buttoning their pinafores. And the boy was struggling nearby to get out of his wet t-shirt, with it over his head, he yelled out the first words he had spoken in years HELP ME, JANIE.
WE all heard it and someone ran out to get a Senior Counselor--
but that day he said no more. In fact he started to cry as we all crowded around, and Janie said "Leave him alone." And we did and Janie took up her usual tasks: Drying him off, adjusting his clothes and babbling about the day. When he came back the next day, he still would not speak when prompted, but with Janie he would repeat some of her words or just laugh along.
That Camp ended too soon for all of us.
I, who was so busy trying to hide my shameful stuttering, came to wonder if that Boy's silence was not just an extreme form of STUTTERING FEAR --he avoided all speech.
And I vowed not to avoid speech, but the big lesson that I learned was how much anyone hates to be always on the receiving end of HELP and CARE.
Each of us longs to be useful and to help. The BUDDY SYSTEM is a brilliant antidote to pity and self pity. Everyone is helping someone else.
The CYO CAMP was Ed Hogan's way to help my family and so many people in Pawtucket to learn how to help themselves by helping others.
SOUNDS OF THE FALLS ON THE TEN MILE
Something I made
IN the spirit of this blog and acting on my new determination to stop waiting to get better and instead to do something that I can do now. That is the only way to make it better--I post the DRAFT of a poem I wrote for a Workshop I enrolled in online.
SOUND THE TRUMPETS--- here goes a draft of a SOUND poem
SOUND THE TRUMPETS--- here goes a draft of a SOUND poem
Late Spring on the Banks of the TEN MILE RIVER
I park the car so we can see the falls;
it shimmers like shook silk,
still water above the low dam
beaten to froth below
like beer foaming in a glass.
I lower the windows, warmth enters
bringing with it murmurs like slurring drunks:
waters never silent shush.
Swans slide slowly over the upper pond,
swaying in their bronze mirror.
Their wake churns seed pods and leaves;
below shallow water gurgles
between suds and tree snags.
squawking loudly as they land.
Ungainly, flapping, skimming,
they break the calm as kids do
let out at recess or late inning
batters slide into home plate
smash through a wall of cheers.
Three geese fly low under the bridge
squawking loudly as they land.
Ungainly, flapping, skimming,
they break the calm as kids do
let out at recess or late inning
batters slide into home plate
smash through a wall of cheers.
This is a description of the sounds that I enjoyed today as I sat with Yash in the Pawtucket Country Club parking lot--very near the falls.
Monday, May 28, 2018
TWO BEST WORDS IN SPORTS
GAME SEVEN
That is what LeBron called them--the two best words in sports. I try to tell myself that he is right and that he wants to honor all the effort that it takes to force a seventh game.
He is certainly in the thick of it--he is the driving engine for the Cleveland team. But I am a little afraid of the finality of game seven and the desperation that the teams show.
ALL GOOD THINGS MUST END AND ALL BAD THINGS TOO.
So something will end tonight.
I GOT MY CAVS CAP ON
I must admit that when the score is too lopsided against the CAVS, I change the channel. But right now it is just a 5 point difference.
I would like to see them battle on.
Yes,The Ghosts of the Garden were there, but the Basketball Gods, who like to play with us, had other ideas.
Well LeBron just charged up the court with the ball,
pass it to Kyle I yelled and then when he ran by him I said Ok maybe Green, he kept going,
OK OK do it yourself and he did even though SMART had posted himself into an illegal position in front of him and took the charge and fell.
So now we are going to the half with a small 4 point lead.
I WILL TAKE IT!
Of course, we all take away what we can from that great display of athleticism and high Basketball IQ that LeBron displayed last night.
Also his patience with his teammates and his refusal to give up on them. In some magical world of generosity and support LeBron kept passing the ball back to his teammates and several of them seized the opportunity to advance to the FINALS OF THE NBA.
I was so glad to see Hill and Green gain energy and momentum. AND when the game was over, I laughed when JR grabbed the trophy and took it out of TD GARDEN--with his team --as if he were afraid that they might leave it behind.
After all Paul Pierce was perched on the sidelines poised to hand the trophy to his beloved CELTICS.
LeBRON teaches the same gospel-- play the hand that you are dealt. He does this not by saying it, but by doing it.
In this way he made the best of the resources of the Cleveland team and he roused them to greatness again
.ON TO THE FINALS!!
That is what LeBron called them--the two best words in sports. I try to tell myself that he is right and that he wants to honor all the effort that it takes to force a seventh game.
He is certainly in the thick of it--he is the driving engine for the Cleveland team. But I am a little afraid of the finality of game seven and the desperation that the teams show.
ALL GOOD THINGS MUST END AND ALL BAD THINGS TOO.
So something will end tonight.
I GOT MY CAVS CAP ON
I must admit that when the score is too lopsided against the CAVS, I change the channel. But right now it is just a 5 point difference.
I would like to see them battle on.
Yes,The Ghosts of the Garden were there, but the Basketball Gods, who like to play with us, had other ideas.
Well LeBron just charged up the court with the ball,
pass it to Kyle I yelled and then when he ran by him I said Ok maybe Green, he kept going,
OK OK do it yourself and he did even though SMART had posted himself into an illegal position in front of him and took the charge and fell.
So now we are going to the half with a small 4 point lead.
I WILL TAKE IT!
Of course, we all take away what we can from that great display of athleticism and high Basketball IQ that LeBron displayed last night.
Also his patience with his teammates and his refusal to give up on them. In some magical world of generosity and support LeBron kept passing the ball back to his teammates and several of them seized the opportunity to advance to the FINALS OF THE NBA.
I was so glad to see Hill and Green gain energy and momentum. AND when the game was over, I laughed when JR grabbed the trophy and took it out of TD GARDEN--with his team --as if he were afraid that they might leave it behind.
After all Paul Pierce was perched on the sidelines poised to hand the trophy to his beloved CELTICS.
LeBRON teaches the same gospel-- play the hand that you are dealt. He does this not by saying it, but by doing it.
In this way he made the best of the resources of the Cleveland team and he roused them to greatness again
.ON TO THE FINALS!!
Sunday, May 27, 2018
GOOD ADVICE---IMPOSSIBLE TO FOLLOW?
ACT OLD LATER -- ON SECOND THOUGHT
IS AGEING A PERFORMANCE OR IS IT A CRUEL PHYSICAL FACT?
When ever I look up and see it dangling on the wall, I laugh. When, three years ago, my grand daughter visited with her mother, my wonderful daughter-in-law Charlotte, we went to a few galleries and little gift shops in Charlestown. I saw the sign--act old later-- and picked it up for a while, and then she surprised me by buying it for me. It is good advice. I can' t always follow it because I am feeling so stiff and sore with my herniated discs and my inability to walk pain free.
I want to do more than I can do. RE-READ that --it is madness-- that is a path to frustration and finally despair.
But now I ask myself another question. Am I doing all that I can do? Intellectually and creatively, I have decided to concentrate on what I can do--which is reading and writing. I am doing both more systematically and more on a daily basis.
THEREFORE MORE ENTRIES AND ATTENTION TO THIS BLOG
I finally put a collection of poems together for a volume called
DEMENTIA:THIS UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY.(Available on AMAZON)
It contains poems that reflect my growing understanding and concern about my mother's multi-infarct dementia that emerged before she died in 1997 and my husband's diagnosis in 2006 of early Alzheimers.
DEMENTIA:THIS UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY.(Available on AMAZON)
It contains poems that reflect my growing understanding and concern about my mother's multi-infarct dementia that emerged before she died in 1997 and my husband's diagnosis in 2006 of early Alzheimers.
I decided to be real about my resources and to finally do what I can do and keep pushing on that frontier.
I can write and publish. I have sent out more poems and have had more acceptances.
What about in the physical realm--I used to swim at the YMCA three times a week..But I am using a walker and feel unsteady on wet tile. So much as I love swimming -- it must wait. It is my one pain free movement.
Let's take it to the limit--one more time-- let's see where the limits are now.
KEEP PUSHING!I COULD NOT RESIST
THE SIXTH GAME OF THE WESTERN CONFERENCE AND IT IS GSW WITH HOME COURT ADVANTAGE
They are already showing how much they miss Chris Paul. If the Rockets win tonight the series is over. Houston is up 8 points and Harden is cookin'.
So I am glad I tuned in---as if that was ever in doubt.Tucker and Green are really stepping up to help .
The first half was fine but then they came back with a 3rd quarter massacre. The warriors finished the Rockets off in the 4th, So now we have two seventh games--so that should leave everyone involved exhausted.
I really disliked the way after he made a basket, Curry would go over to the Rockets bench where Harden and CP were sitting and give them little victory taps. How he presumes that he can do just about anything.
I must say that Harden and CP took it all stoically and gave no response. Strong sense of dignity that they both share. Would not give Curry the satisfaction of a reaction.
GOOD CALL, GENTLEMEN!
Now on to two GAMES SEVEN
They are already showing how much they miss Chris Paul. If the Rockets win tonight the series is over. Houston is up 8 points and Harden is cookin'.
So I am glad I tuned in---as if that was ever in doubt.Tucker and Green are really stepping up to help .
The first half was fine but then they came back with a 3rd quarter massacre. The warriors finished the Rockets off in the 4th, So now we have two seventh games--so that should leave everyone involved exhausted.
I really disliked the way after he made a basket, Curry would go over to the Rockets bench where Harden and CP were sitting and give them little victory taps. How he presumes that he can do just about anything.
I must say that Harden and CP took it all stoically and gave no response. Strong sense of dignity that they both share. Would not give Curry the satisfaction of a reaction.
GOOD CALL, GENTLEMEN!
Now on to two GAMES SEVEN
Saturday, May 26, 2018
HOME COURT IN CLEVELAND
GAME 6 CAN the CAVS WIN?
The best the CAVS can hope for tonight is to even up the series.
Then back to Boston for GAME 7 and that will give the Celtics their best chance.
If Boston wins tonight the series is over. That should be a huge incentive. But coming up to half time the Cavs are ahead . They are a different team at home. So maybe they will live to play in Game 7.
Now near the end of the 3rd Quarter, James has taken over the game.
He makes it happen--so I guess the talk that it was his last night in a Cavs uniform was a slight over-statement.
MY question is why do they run to predict that James is finished?
Why rush him off the world stage??
I want his greatness to go on and thrill us.
How lucky we are to witness such prowess. I feel so blessed that I got to see Bird play in person, and now as an old lady I can give James a little homage.
This morning I heard some of James' after game remarks. AND I was waiting to hear the one that spoke just to me .
Waiting for the words that would resonate with my soul
ANDI HEARD IT "I'VE BEEN CLUTCH MY WHOLE CAREER."
ME TOO--LeBron--Speak the truth, Brother--No one expected much of either of us.
WE have always been in the clutch position, and there you are still
the best player on the planet.
And here am I still breathing in and out in Pawtucket.
I do hope that you lead Cleveland and even me to glory.
TAKE US TO THE LIMIT--ONE MORE TIME!
The best the CAVS can hope for tonight is to even up the series.
Then back to Boston for GAME 7 and that will give the Celtics their best chance.
If Boston wins tonight the series is over. That should be a huge incentive. But coming up to half time the Cavs are ahead . They are a different team at home. So maybe they will live to play in Game 7.
Now near the end of the 3rd Quarter, James has taken over the game.
He makes it happen--so I guess the talk that it was his last night in a Cavs uniform was a slight over-statement.
MY question is why do they run to predict that James is finished?
Why rush him off the world stage??
I want his greatness to go on and thrill us.
How lucky we are to witness such prowess. I feel so blessed that I got to see Bird play in person, and now as an old lady I can give James a little homage.
This morning I heard some of James' after game remarks. AND I was waiting to hear the one that spoke just to me .
Waiting for the words that would resonate with my soul
ANDI HEARD IT "I'VE BEEN CLUTCH MY WHOLE CAREER."
ME TOO--LeBron--Speak the truth, Brother--No one expected much of either of us.
WE have always been in the clutch position, and there you are still
the best player on the planet.
And here am I still breathing in and out in Pawtucket.
I do hope that you lead Cleveland and even me to glory.
TAKE US TO THE LIMIT--ONE MORE TIME!
Friday, May 25, 2018
FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS
IN MOURNING FOR MY COUSIN BOBBY
"You have no idea what your life will be like tomorrow. You are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears."
James 4:13-17
Yesterday I received the sad news that my dear cousin Bobby Jenckes died. Speaking to his son who called to tell me the news, I felt a great wave of sadness and disbelief sweep over me. Bob was my oldest Jenckes first cousin and someone who had helped me in so many ways throughout my life. Bob was stoic and totally dependable. He had a dry sense of humour and he was also unfailingly kind. He never drew attention to himself; he just quietly fulfilled the ministries of family devotion and dedication.
I recall especially when my Aunt Grace was failing in health and staying with me, Bob started to just show up in the early morning with coffee. He would help me by lifting Grace so that I could wash and dress her for the day.
Then in the evening he would return to reverse the process. Grace trusted him totally because of his steadiness and strength. She would insist that we wait for him if I tried to start the procedure before his arrival.
She loved that he made light of it, never pointing out that he was there to help, but just saying that he had thought we might like some coffee. Aunt Grace picked up on his style--truth be told--he had probably learned it from her. She told me to buy a bottle of good Cream Sherry. And each night we would pour out the small snifters in a row of three and await his coming in the door. She wanted to see it as a social occasion, and then that made it acceptable to Grace.
In my own experience I have sometimes been frustrated by the reticence of the Jenckes clan--my father's Yankee side of the family. But I see that it was always a form of mutual respect. Sometimes carried too far but better than interrogating people about their life choices.
Bob demonstrated a kind of respect for the dignity and integrity of each person and a refusal to violate that with questions or any judgement. I would say that was true about my Aunt Grace and my Cousin Bob---they both stood firm in the judgement free zone and they protected it like home court.
I had the good fortune to have had Bob's companionship from childhood. Many Sundays my Aunt Grace would come by bus to our house in Pawtucket and take me with her by bus to Providence--a quick stop for ice cream at Shrafts--and then onto Warwick. There I would join Bob's three sisters and we would pester him to play with us. I remember that he sometimes let me sit on the back of his bike. That was a rare privilege and I knew it.
I would say that the windows that Bob and I shared as adults were infrequent and unexpected. When I returned from graduate school at the University of Illinois to Rhode Island after my divorce, I taught for a year as an Instructor in the English Department of Rhode Island College. That same year Bob, who had finished his stint in the Navy. returned to College to complete his education at RIC. It seemed to amuse him that I was teaching where he was attending school. We would bump into each other on campus and sometimes we would share a coffee.
Bob must have noticed that I was a little at loose ends--living as a single mother with my six year old son in an apartment in Providence. He suggested that I come to his house on Saturdays and keep his wife company while he was at work. He put it in those generous terms-- as if I would be doing him a favor.
When I accepted his invitation and showed up on Saturday, his wife was very welcoming. My son Joe played with her son Stephen and that friendship really helped my acceptance of raising a child with no father to help.
Bob represented two dominant traits from the Jenckes DNA--he had great height and he was a workaholic. The Jenks/ Jenckes colonial founders were famous for their great height. Joseph Jenks was a foundryman and started the first foundry in the Bay Colony in Saugus, and then his son came to the Blackstone and began the First Foundry in what would become Pawtucket near the Falls,
When I think of them I picture tall and strong blacksmiths. They must have really stood out in the mid 1600s when average height was much shorter,
They passed this trait on --one Jenckes father with ten daughters --each 6 ft or better--was quoted as boasting that he had "60 running feet of daughters": see there's that dry wit I spoke of earlier.
Anyway not all Jenckes' are giants but none are short. Every once in a while the gene shows off, and Bob was about 6 feet 7 inches.
Bob also was extremely active and hard working. After he "retired"
at or around 70 years, he still kept busy with three part-time jobs.
In the last two years I saw less of Bobby, and although I was always invited to family gatherings, my own limitations or hospitalizations and rehab stints prevented me from accepting. Most recently after Bob's surgery I had to content myself with phone conversations. I limited myself on those because I did not want to tire him.
He said that he was doing better and I believed him. But then he said that he was very tired. And that was a new note.
He is resting now. I pray that his children and all who love him rest in the knowledge that he is in a better place and that his spirit is busy watching over us all.
"You have no idea what your life will be like tomorrow. You are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears."
James 4:13-17
Yesterday I received the sad news that my dear cousin Bobby Jenckes died. Speaking to his son who called to tell me the news, I felt a great wave of sadness and disbelief sweep over me. Bob was my oldest Jenckes first cousin and someone who had helped me in so many ways throughout my life. Bob was stoic and totally dependable. He had a dry sense of humour and he was also unfailingly kind. He never drew attention to himself; he just quietly fulfilled the ministries of family devotion and dedication.
I recall especially when my Aunt Grace was failing in health and staying with me, Bob started to just show up in the early morning with coffee. He would help me by lifting Grace so that I could wash and dress her for the day.
Then in the evening he would return to reverse the process. Grace trusted him totally because of his steadiness and strength. She would insist that we wait for him if I tried to start the procedure before his arrival.
She loved that he made light of it, never pointing out that he was there to help, but just saying that he had thought we might like some coffee. Aunt Grace picked up on his style--truth be told--he had probably learned it from her. She told me to buy a bottle of good Cream Sherry. And each night we would pour out the small snifters in a row of three and await his coming in the door. She wanted to see it as a social occasion, and then that made it acceptable to Grace.
In my own experience I have sometimes been frustrated by the reticence of the Jenckes clan--my father's Yankee side of the family. But I see that it was always a form of mutual respect. Sometimes carried too far but better than interrogating people about their life choices.
Bob demonstrated a kind of respect for the dignity and integrity of each person and a refusal to violate that with questions or any judgement. I would say that was true about my Aunt Grace and my Cousin Bob---they both stood firm in the judgement free zone and they protected it like home court.
I had the good fortune to have had Bob's companionship from childhood. Many Sundays my Aunt Grace would come by bus to our house in Pawtucket and take me with her by bus to Providence--a quick stop for ice cream at Shrafts--and then onto Warwick. There I would join Bob's three sisters and we would pester him to play with us. I remember that he sometimes let me sit on the back of his bike. That was a rare privilege and I knew it.
I would say that the windows that Bob and I shared as adults were infrequent and unexpected. When I returned from graduate school at the University of Illinois to Rhode Island after my divorce, I taught for a year as an Instructor in the English Department of Rhode Island College. That same year Bob, who had finished his stint in the Navy. returned to College to complete his education at RIC. It seemed to amuse him that I was teaching where he was attending school. We would bump into each other on campus and sometimes we would share a coffee.
Bob must have noticed that I was a little at loose ends--living as a single mother with my six year old son in an apartment in Providence. He suggested that I come to his house on Saturdays and keep his wife company while he was at work. He put it in those generous terms-- as if I would be doing him a favor.
When I accepted his invitation and showed up on Saturday, his wife was very welcoming. My son Joe played with her son Stephen and that friendship really helped my acceptance of raising a child with no father to help.
Bob represented two dominant traits from the Jenckes DNA--he had great height and he was a workaholic. The Jenks/ Jenckes colonial founders were famous for their great height. Joseph Jenks was a foundryman and started the first foundry in the Bay Colony in Saugus, and then his son came to the Blackstone and began the First Foundry in what would become Pawtucket near the Falls,
When I think of them I picture tall and strong blacksmiths. They must have really stood out in the mid 1600s when average height was much shorter,
They passed this trait on --one Jenckes father with ten daughters --each 6 ft or better--was quoted as boasting that he had "60 running feet of daughters": see there's that dry wit I spoke of earlier.
Anyway not all Jenckes' are giants but none are short. Every once in a while the gene shows off, and Bob was about 6 feet 7 inches.
Bob also was extremely active and hard working. After he "retired"
at or around 70 years, he still kept busy with three part-time jobs.
In the last two years I saw less of Bobby, and although I was always invited to family gatherings, my own limitations or hospitalizations and rehab stints prevented me from accepting. Most recently after Bob's surgery I had to content myself with phone conversations. I limited myself on those because I did not want to tire him.
He said that he was doing better and I believed him. But then he said that he was very tired. And that was a new note.
He is resting now. I pray that his children and all who love him rest in the knowledge that he is in a better place and that his spirit is busy watching over us all.
Thursday, May 24, 2018
HOME COURT ADVANTAGE
HOPE IS ONLY HOPE WHEN THERE IS NO CAUSE FOR HOPE---otherwise it is an expectation
Tonight I am rooting for the ROCKETS and they may just take this game. They are at home. That certainly helped the Celtics last night.
Now in the 3rd Quarter the Rockets are trying to pull ahead in a more decisive way. They had a lousy first half with most of Mr. Hardin's shots missing. But the energy has increased and they must know that this is their chance in their home court with the crowd roaring for them.
OMG they just announced that a big basket by CP3 did not count. Well wonders of wonders KD just missed one of his 3 pointers. Hope has raised her lovely head. Always a ravishing sight
.
This is riveting. Wow Hardin just ran down court and slammed a basket in.
two minutes to go Houston is up 3 points. They just trampled CP3 in the shooting lane. OOOOPS!!!
Eric Gordon my new hero just threw for three and landed it.
One minute left and the Rockets are up by just 1 point.
WOW CHRIS PAUL and I have something in common--hamstring injury and horrible spasms.
Now a three point lead and Gordon just shut it down with a second free throw.
OH THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN
Tonight I am rooting for the ROCKETS and they may just take this game. They are at home. That certainly helped the Celtics last night.
Now in the 3rd Quarter the Rockets are trying to pull ahead in a more decisive way. They had a lousy first half with most of Mr. Hardin's shots missing. But the energy has increased and they must know that this is their chance in their home court with the crowd roaring for them.
OMG they just announced that a big basket by CP3 did not count. Well wonders of wonders KD just missed one of his 3 pointers. Hope has raised her lovely head. Always a ravishing sight
.
This is riveting. Wow Hardin just ran down court and slammed a basket in.
two minutes to go Houston is up 3 points. They just trampled CP3 in the shooting lane. OOOOPS!!!
Eric Gordon my new hero just threw for three and landed it.
One minute left and the Rockets are up by just 1 point.
WOW CHRIS PAUL and I have something in common--hamstring injury and horrible spasms.
Now a three point lead and Gordon just shut it down with a second free throw.
OH THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN
THE THRILL IS GONE
THE DOWNSIDE OF FANDOM
I am in a funk and the game last night only added to my sorrow. I received the sad news that my dear cousin Bobby died and with a grieving heart I began to watch the game hoping the CAVS could lift my spirit a little. Instead I saw that LeBron is too heavily burdened with the lifting of the entire team and I could not add my sorrow.
I turned the game off and went to bed when LeBron went to the bench in the last moments and seemed to down a quart of water in one long gulp. I woke up several times in the night with the sadness and thought that letting myself care so much for his victories meant that I cared too much about his defeats. They felt like they were mine.
My mother always tried to stop me when I would wax too passionately about one of my idols -- TED WILLIAMS and ELVIS, and yes, when I was a toddler ROY ROGERS,
Being Irish she would use derision to stifle my attachment--
Asking rhetorically--here you are worried about Ted Williams--how many times do you think he talked about you today?
And that was the end of the talk-- but not the devotion. I was hurt and had no response. It would be many years before I recognized that she challenged in me a trait that she hated in herself -- mothers do that,
She had worshipped an English Channel swimmer Gertrude Ederle and often delighted in the wins of a woman tennis player . She even made tennis whites for herself and had her picture taken swinging a borrowed tennis racquet. She knew what hero worship was all about. Like me she enjoyed a rich and lavish fantasy life.
Gertrude was the first woman to swim the English Chanel and that happened in 1926 when my mother was 16 and that made a big impression
on her. She talked about it all the time.
I am in a funk and the game last night only added to my sorrow. I received the sad news that my dear cousin Bobby died and with a grieving heart I began to watch the game hoping the CAVS could lift my spirit a little. Instead I saw that LeBron is too heavily burdened with the lifting of the entire team and I could not add my sorrow.
I turned the game off and went to bed when LeBron went to the bench in the last moments and seemed to down a quart of water in one long gulp. I woke up several times in the night with the sadness and thought that letting myself care so much for his victories meant that I cared too much about his defeats. They felt like they were mine.
My mother always tried to stop me when I would wax too passionately about one of my idols -- TED WILLIAMS and ELVIS, and yes, when I was a toddler ROY ROGERS,
Being Irish she would use derision to stifle my attachment--
Asking rhetorically--here you are worried about Ted Williams--how many times do you think he talked about you today?
And that was the end of the talk-- but not the devotion. I was hurt and had no response. It would be many years before I recognized that she challenged in me a trait that she hated in herself -- mothers do that,
She had worshipped an English Channel swimmer Gertrude Ederle and often delighted in the wins of a woman tennis player . She even made tennis whites for herself and had her picture taken swinging a borrowed tennis racquet. She knew what hero worship was all about. Like me she enjoyed a rich and lavish fantasy life.
Gertrude was the first woman to swim the English Chanel and that happened in 1926 when my mother was 16 and that made a big impression
on her. She talked about it all the time.
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
BLUE BARRELS IN THE BUCKET -- LONG MAY THEY ROLL!!
Something that is still there in the Bucket
When I begin to write about a particular place in the Bucket it must excite the old neurons and I find myself suddenly recalling new details. I am not always sure if they are trustworthy
They usually do have some basis in fact.
So today I was recalling the allure of the Barrel Yard. After I made our ritualistic trip to Salvation Army on Central Avenue to give them the fruit of yesterday's excavation of the patio storage with Mikey,Yash wanted lunch. So I swung by Wendy's and got two burgers and no meal. Then drove to find my favorite spot right next to the falls in the Pawtucket Country Club Parking lot --open and pretty empty.
It is a sunny day and I could see the waters splashing below the falls and hear that murmur of the river- so soothing.
After we finished eating , we went into Slater but my mind was thinking of checking out the old Dunnel Lane.
So I swung right on Newport and then a quick left onto Columbus. I turned left on to RI AVE at McCoy stadium. As I cruised by and reached the intersection with Dunnell Lane, I turned left. Then once I was into the industrial area I swung left again and
THERE IT WAS. Just as I recall and an old sign hung over the office shed and announced that we were in John Collins Barrells. I drove in and turned around and there were the bright blue barrels and there were also some large rectangular plastic containers. I was very happy to see the barrels still there. Towards the back of the yard the gate was wide and I could drive into another area that showed that telltale sand that had once been surrounding Dunnell's Pond and that had been part of the terrain of the backlots. AND I was glad to see that was not changed.
Driving away I chose to continue up Dunnell to Prospect and there at the Corner was a closed Pizza place that stands where Barney Donnelly's store once stood. He was a bookie that took my father's "ACTION" And then continuing on Prospect I saw to my left apartments built where there once stood the Prospect Street School. I turned right down Melrose Avenue and at the foot of Melrose as it T's into Rhode Island on the right was the strange triangle attached to a tenement that once was Dick's Variety. No sign of anything commercial there now.
When I got home I Googled Collins Barrells and learned that they have been in business in that spot for more than a HUNDRED YEARS.
Why does that make me so happy?? So glad to find a still standing witness of the past that haunts me and attests to the truth of my memory.
When I begin to write about a particular place in the Bucket it must excite the old neurons and I find myself suddenly recalling new details. I am not always sure if they are trustworthy
They usually do have some basis in fact.
So today I was recalling the allure of the Barrel Yard. After I made our ritualistic trip to Salvation Army on Central Avenue to give them the fruit of yesterday's excavation of the patio storage with Mikey,Yash wanted lunch. So I swung by Wendy's and got two burgers and no meal. Then drove to find my favorite spot right next to the falls in the Pawtucket Country Club Parking lot --open and pretty empty.
It is a sunny day and I could see the waters splashing below the falls and hear that murmur of the river- so soothing.
After we finished eating , we went into Slater but my mind was thinking of checking out the old Dunnel Lane.
So I swung right on Newport and then a quick left onto Columbus. I turned left on to RI AVE at McCoy stadium. As I cruised by and reached the intersection with Dunnell Lane, I turned left. Then once I was into the industrial area I swung left again and
THERE IT WAS. Just as I recall and an old sign hung over the office shed and announced that we were in John Collins Barrells. I drove in and turned around and there were the bright blue barrels and there were also some large rectangular plastic containers. I was very happy to see the barrels still there. Towards the back of the yard the gate was wide and I could drive into another area that showed that telltale sand that had once been surrounding Dunnell's Pond and that had been part of the terrain of the backlots. AND I was glad to see that was not changed.
Driving away I chose to continue up Dunnell to Prospect and there at the Corner was a closed Pizza place that stands where Barney Donnelly's store once stood. He was a bookie that took my father's "ACTION" And then continuing on Prospect I saw to my left apartments built where there once stood the Prospect Street School. I turned right down Melrose Avenue and at the foot of Melrose as it T's into Rhode Island on the right was the strange triangle attached to a tenement that once was Dick's Variety. No sign of anything commercial there now.
When I got home I Googled Collins Barrells and learned that they have been in business in that spot for more than a HUNDRED YEARS.
Why does that make me so happy?? So glad to find a still standing witness of the past that haunts me and attests to the truth of my memory.
O HAPPY DAY FOR EAST AND WEST CONFERENCE
HOUSTON SHOWS IT CAN BE DONE TWICE
I almost missed it last night. I tuned in for the opening because I find SHAQ and Charles and Kenny so funny talking together. I admire how Ernie manages those triple threats.
Then the game began and it looked like the start of a slaughter and I did not want to watch that. So I looked elsewhere to the LITTLE WOMEN show and even the Louisa May Alcott bio story after with the real facts of the lives of the Alcotts.
I have visited the House in Concord many times and have brought visitors and students there. I have broken down and wept there like I did when I visited the room where Keats worsened off the Spanish Steps in Rome. I was not the only tourist weeping and trying to stifle it all with a cough or noisy nose-blowing.
What struck me about the Alcott house was not how nice-- but how small and mean-- and I recall my thought: Louisa you made much of very little.
Now I see that is the job we all have -- because every moment is both so small and so HUGE-- sometimes just breathing is enough. My father always said: "you can only play the hand that you were dealt."
I could only stand so much of the Puritanical restraint and I turned back to the GAME ---AND GLORY HAD BROKEN LOOSE!!
Houston was in the lead. Although the Warriors took back the lead, I stayed with the game until the marvelous conclusion --THE WARRIORS MISSED SHOTS!!
My cousin Mike had discussed it all with me earlier in the day and he feared the worse. But instead we have both conferences now in an even game situation. Some team must win two of the next three games.
AND SOME TEAM WILL --IT IS NOW A BEST OF THREE SERIES. STAY TUNED
I almost missed it last night. I tuned in for the opening because I find SHAQ and Charles and Kenny so funny talking together. I admire how Ernie manages those triple threats.
Then the game began and it looked like the start of a slaughter and I did not want to watch that. So I looked elsewhere to the LITTLE WOMEN show and even the Louisa May Alcott bio story after with the real facts of the lives of the Alcotts.
I have visited the House in Concord many times and have brought visitors and students there. I have broken down and wept there like I did when I visited the room where Keats worsened off the Spanish Steps in Rome. I was not the only tourist weeping and trying to stifle it all with a cough or noisy nose-blowing.
What struck me about the Alcott house was not how nice-- but how small and mean-- and I recall my thought: Louisa you made much of very little.
Now I see that is the job we all have -- because every moment is both so small and so HUGE-- sometimes just breathing is enough. My father always said: "you can only play the hand that you were dealt."
I could only stand so much of the Puritanical restraint and I turned back to the GAME ---AND GLORY HAD BROKEN LOOSE!!
Houston was in the lead. Although the Warriors took back the lead, I stayed with the game until the marvelous conclusion --THE WARRIORS MISSED SHOTS!!
My cousin Mike had discussed it all with me earlier in the day and he feared the worse. But instead we have both conferences now in an even game situation. Some team must win two of the next three games.
AND SOME TEAM WILL --IT IS NOW A BEST OF THREE SERIES. STAY TUNED
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
THE TERRORS OF THE BARREL YARD
Going Deeper into the Backlots
If we so chose we could walk even further back into the lots and we would reach Dunnell Lane and a fenced off area that was the Barrel Yard and that was heavily sign posted. KEEP OUT
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.
We could not see into the Yard but we could hear the deep yells and curses of men and sometimes the scary sounds of dogs growling fiercely, barrels rolling and crashing. We longed to go inside--at least I did. But only very bold boys would venture across that barrier and climb that fence. AND they only did it as the twilight deepened and we were near darkness.
WE had to go home when the streetlights came on--but that was their signal to risk invading the barrel yards--and rouse the junkyard dogs waiting there.
What did they hope to find there? I would not learn the answer to that for years.
Bur now we would begin to run fast up the hills to emerge in one of the yards on Rhode Island Avenue and then back to my house for supper. And no one would be the wiser. All my mother would see if she stood on our porch was me obediently coming up Brewster street as the lights flashed on.
Once inside I was expected to wash my hands and set the table for supper. My sisters never came to the lots with me--they were too unsteady on the steep hill and the boys there were too rough and would make fun of them. And then I would have the task of making them pay for that. Not possible.
Those boys were the rough boys that hung out at Dick's Variety. Let's go there next.
And what did they find at the Barrel Yards? I did not find out until I began to date a boy who lived on RI Ave, and told me of his Barrel Yard adventures and showed me his loot.
If we so chose we could walk even further back into the lots and we would reach Dunnell Lane and a fenced off area that was the Barrel Yard and that was heavily sign posted. KEEP OUT
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.
We could not see into the Yard but we could hear the deep yells and curses of men and sometimes the scary sounds of dogs growling fiercely, barrels rolling and crashing. We longed to go inside--at least I did. But only very bold boys would venture across that barrier and climb that fence. AND they only did it as the twilight deepened and we were near darkness.
WE had to go home when the streetlights came on--but that was their signal to risk invading the barrel yards--and rouse the junkyard dogs waiting there.
What did they hope to find there? I would not learn the answer to that for years.
Bur now we would begin to run fast up the hills to emerge in one of the yards on Rhode Island Avenue and then back to my house for supper. And no one would be the wiser. All my mother would see if she stood on our porch was me obediently coming up Brewster street as the lights flashed on.
Once inside I was expected to wash my hands and set the table for supper. My sisters never came to the lots with me--they were too unsteady on the steep hill and the boys there were too rough and would make fun of them. And then I would have the task of making them pay for that. Not possible.
Those boys were the rough boys that hung out at Dick's Variety. Let's go there next.
And what did they find at the Barrel Yards? I did not find out until I began to date a boy who lived on RI Ave, and told me of his Barrel Yard adventures and showed me his loot.
it's all on the line tonight
GAME 4 COMING UP
As my cousin said when we parted on Friday, "When we get together to work again on Tuesday, things will be clearer."
Yes, either the Cavs will have evened up the series or the Celtics will have pushed the CAVS into a Dead end of 3 Celtic wins and only one more needed to win the series.
So that drama is ahead and I have so many clashing thoughts about it.
1.A BLOW OUT IS NEVER GOOD
2. THEY ARE BACK IN THE LAND
3. GEORGE HILL IS A KEY INGREDIENT
WHICH CAVS TEAM WILL SHOW UP?
1.THE CELTICS HAVE MORE DEPTH AND VARIETY
2.BUT NO SUPER STAR.
3.BRAD IS THE BETTER COACH IN A CLUTCH
I am going to have a small dish of Bliss Brothers Strawberry ice cream. That will settle my nerves.
As my cousin said when we parted on Friday, "When we get together to work again on Tuesday, things will be clearer."
Yes, either the Cavs will have evened up the series or the Celtics will have pushed the CAVS into a Dead end of 3 Celtic wins and only one more needed to win the series.
So that drama is ahead and I have so many clashing thoughts about it.
1.A BLOW OUT IS NEVER GOOD
2. THEY ARE BACK IN THE LAND
3. GEORGE HILL IS A KEY INGREDIENT
WHICH CAVS TEAM WILL SHOW UP?
1.THE CELTICS HAVE MORE DEPTH AND VARIETY
2.BUT NO SUPER STAR.
3.BRAD IS THE BETTER COACH IN A CLUTCH
I am going to have a small dish of Bliss Brothers Strawberry ice cream. That will settle my nerves.
Monday, May 21, 2018
THE LURE OF THE BACKLOTS
Several Years Ago
I became aware of how imprinted the sights and scenes of my childhood are in my memory. I could go back there in my mind and roam even when I was miles away in Ohio. I often dream of being lost and then realizing it was Pawtucket and cheerfully finding my way home.
Years ago I did some research on the subject and found that there is an entire field of work and writing under the heading :CHILDHOOD GEOGRAPHY. I made the connection with my own experience and made a map of my childhood haunts. On one of my trips back home to see my mother, I actually drove around and tried to photograph them or what was left of them,
I delivered a talk at the Slater Mill under the heading At WORK AND PLAY IN The FIELDS OF PAWTUCKET. It was a fun occasion.--so many friends and relatives and old neighbors showed up that night. I later gave at an American Culture Conference a more academic version of the talk which cited the experts in Geography and Child Psychology. It seems that before everyone owned a car, children did roam far outside their areas, but in each generation that radius of childhood exploration and discovery has shrunk until now it is difficult to get children to leave the house. When they do leave, it is to walk a few feet to a car and get driven to appointments "play dates" etc.
Recently I drove by to look at the BACK LOTS. You can drive into the lots off Columbus Avenue. It is now a trailer park with roads winding through. In my childhood days it was a grassy retreat and seemed special. I reached it by walking through somebody's yard; it ran behind all the houses on Rhode Island Ave.
Why am I thinking of the Back Lots today. Because today--a warm day in May carrying on breezes the fragrance of the blooming lilacs-- is a perfect day to go to the Lots. As soon as I arrived there I would decide whether the grass had been cut back on the steep hills that ran down from RI AVE to the lots to allow me to lay down and roll sideways down the hill. If it was a good day and I decided to roll, I would do it over and over until I was dizzy with the joy of it.
If I came with any, neighborhood friends, I would see if they would roll and I would stop when they wanted to stop. I NEVER WANTED TO STOP!
There was another excitement in the lots. If we walked back away from Columbus, we came to a rise and a series of concrete broken walls. I was told that there had once been a reservoir there. Now I see that the whole of the lots was actually a dried up river bed. Water had once flowed from the Pond that was drained to make MC COY to Dunnells Pond and must have passed on to flow into the Blackstone --called the Pawtucket River at that point. But I had made up another narrative. I said that it had been an Indian encampment and that it had been torn down. But if we looked we might find Indian arrowheads. So we would search and did dig and some would find rocks with pointed arrow shapes and we would decide that they had been parts of arrowheads or stones used to make arrowheads. Were we on to something?? Who knows.
I made up the story --they looked-- and some found something.
Do not discount all my narratives--even from where I am sitting to write this I can see an old map of Pawtucket from the 1890s framed on my wall. And it shows water at the base of Pond Street--they did not call it Pond Street for nothing, AND another street called Lakeview runs off Columbus--still does. I just drove by there ten minutes ago.
I became aware of how imprinted the sights and scenes of my childhood are in my memory. I could go back there in my mind and roam even when I was miles away in Ohio. I often dream of being lost and then realizing it was Pawtucket and cheerfully finding my way home.
Years ago I did some research on the subject and found that there is an entire field of work and writing under the heading :CHILDHOOD GEOGRAPHY. I made the connection with my own experience and made a map of my childhood haunts. On one of my trips back home to see my mother, I actually drove around and tried to photograph them or what was left of them,
I delivered a talk at the Slater Mill under the heading At WORK AND PLAY IN The FIELDS OF PAWTUCKET. It was a fun occasion.--so many friends and relatives and old neighbors showed up that night. I later gave at an American Culture Conference a more academic version of the talk which cited the experts in Geography and Child Psychology. It seems that before everyone owned a car, children did roam far outside their areas, but in each generation that radius of childhood exploration and discovery has shrunk until now it is difficult to get children to leave the house. When they do leave, it is to walk a few feet to a car and get driven to appointments "play dates" etc.
Recently I drove by to look at the BACK LOTS. You can drive into the lots off Columbus Avenue. It is now a trailer park with roads winding through. In my childhood days it was a grassy retreat and seemed special. I reached it by walking through somebody's yard; it ran behind all the houses on Rhode Island Ave.
Why am I thinking of the Back Lots today. Because today--a warm day in May carrying on breezes the fragrance of the blooming lilacs-- is a perfect day to go to the Lots. As soon as I arrived there I would decide whether the grass had been cut back on the steep hills that ran down from RI AVE to the lots to allow me to lay down and roll sideways down the hill. If it was a good day and I decided to roll, I would do it over and over until I was dizzy with the joy of it.
If I came with any, neighborhood friends, I would see if they would roll and I would stop when they wanted to stop. I NEVER WANTED TO STOP!
There was another excitement in the lots. If we walked back away from Columbus, we came to a rise and a series of concrete broken walls. I was told that there had once been a reservoir there. Now I see that the whole of the lots was actually a dried up river bed. Water had once flowed from the Pond that was drained to make MC COY to Dunnells Pond and must have passed on to flow into the Blackstone --called the Pawtucket River at that point. But I had made up another narrative. I said that it had been an Indian encampment and that it had been torn down. But if we looked we might find Indian arrowheads. So we would search and did dig and some would find rocks with pointed arrow shapes and we would decide that they had been parts of arrowheads or stones used to make arrowheads. Were we on to something?? Who knows.
I made up the story --they looked-- and some found something.
Do not discount all my narratives--even from where I am sitting to write this I can see an old map of Pawtucket from the 1890s framed on my wall. And it shows water at the base of Pond Street--they did not call it Pond Street for nothing, AND another street called Lakeview runs off Columbus--still does. I just drove by there ten minutes ago.
Sunday, May 20, 2018
A SPECIAL VISIT
Yashdip is very happy
Today is special because we are awaiting a visit from Yashdip's niece Amrit from Canada. She is the daughter of Yashdip's beloved younger brother Hardial whose death really devastated Yashdip in 1997. SHe has promised to come to Pawtucket today with her husband and their children.
We have not seen them since I took that wretched fall from a ladder in a hotel pool in Montreal that really started this downhill spiral of my health, That was in August of 2012. So we are talking 6 years. WOW!
We only have one bathroom here and Yashdip occupies it with his morning rituals for at least two hours. So now I hear that he is in the shower. And I just opened an email to tell me that their ETA is 10:30 to 11;AM. It is now 10:55AM. So I yelled to tell him and he said -- oh they won't be on time.
So let us see who is right.
I do fear seeing people who have not seen me lately. I used to dye my hair to its natural reddish brown but long stints in hospital and rehab stopped that. AND I Am now a mix of grey and brown--mostly white. I have actually startled myself in the mirror!! I wrote a ghazal that addresses those moments
Today is special because we are awaiting a visit from Yashdip's niece Amrit from Canada. She is the daughter of Yashdip's beloved younger brother Hardial whose death really devastated Yashdip in 1997. SHe has promised to come to Pawtucket today with her husband and their children.
We have not seen them since I took that wretched fall from a ladder in a hotel pool in Montreal that really started this downhill spiral of my health, That was in August of 2012. So we are talking 6 years. WOW!
We only have one bathroom here and Yashdip occupies it with his morning rituals for at least two hours. So now I hear that he is in the shower. And I just opened an email to tell me that their ETA is 10:30 to 11;AM. It is now 10:55AM. So I yelled to tell him and he said -- oh they won't be on time.
So let us see who is right.
I do fear seeing people who have not seen me lately. I used to dye my hair to its natural reddish brown but long stints in hospital and rehab stopped that. AND I Am now a mix of grey and brown--mostly white. I have actually startled myself in the mirror!! I wrote a ghazal that addresses those moments
GHAZAL
IN THE MIRROR
Like
a fish on a line I wriggle when I look in the mirror;
caught
me up short, I couldn't see the hook in the mirror.
My
saints, my guardian angel, my confessor:
their
counsel – what else did I overlook in the mirror?
Where
to find all those friends and lovers who stared
back
at you; those you mistook, in the mirror.
You
sought safety, shelter, your comfort zone;
but
there is no private nook in the mirror.
Binges,
car wrecks, strange beds, rehab stints; recount
all
those broken vows that you forsook in the mirror.
You
finished off the vodka, the beers were long gone
when
you noticed how your hand shook in the mirror.
Lord
Jim, Uncle Vanya, Othello, those never
fail
to move you –heroes found in books, not the mirror.
Heroin,
meth, ecstasy— street drugs you denounced--
who
saw how much coke you took in? The mirror.
Thickening
gels, mousse, comb-overs can't hide
the
fact that you're losing your looks in the mirror.
We
argue, kiss and fight again the same battles
like
caged birds who peck that raging rook in the mirror.
Sans
teeth, sans mind, sans hair, sans-- whatever--
that
glass shows us what time took in the mirror .
“by
brooks too broad for leaping” --no light-foot lads;
only
Charon ferries that brook in the mirror.
I
surprise a bent form in a window passing;
if
I'm Wendy, why is Captain Hook in the mirror?
“Oh,
Norma, whatever you do, stay in school!”
My
mother yelled when I'd look in the mirror.
Norma
Jenckes
MY, MY --I NEVER KNOW WHERE THIS BLOG WILL TAKE ME--IT'S A KIND OF FUN HOUSE MIRROR
They're BACK!
Pausing before the half time on game three. The CAVS have taken a good lead and LeBron's getting baskets. It seems to day has been one of spectacle. Got up at 7am to watch the Royal Wedding. Missed their entrance but no fear they have been repeating bits and pieces all day,
Cold and rainy here but glorious day in Windsor. Out to a lunch at BK and then ate the Whoppers in the Park. Saw a marvelous huge Kingfisher standing still in the pond and then the great wings spread and he took off. What a display. Symbol of good fortune and love that will unfold in life. Certainly is a heart-lifting sight.
Went hone to watch the Preakness and the Derby winner won again and became a TRIPLE CROWN Threat. It was a foggy day in Baltimore and the track was very muddy but JUSTIFY came through. Nice close race,
It was time to read and write a little bit which I did, Then a call from my best friend from College who lives in New York. She has high levels of enthusiasm and we sort of match each other or exhaust each other some times. Today was a match. I have had a few great visits and meeting this week. So I am happily tired.
Now another spectacle--well the game has resumed. More later,
Cold and rainy here but glorious day in Windsor. Out to a lunch at BK and then ate the Whoppers in the Park. Saw a marvelous huge Kingfisher standing still in the pond and then the great wings spread and he took off. What a display. Symbol of good fortune and love that will unfold in life. Certainly is a heart-lifting sight.
Went hone to watch the Preakness and the Derby winner won again and became a TRIPLE CROWN Threat. It was a foggy day in Baltimore and the track was very muddy but JUSTIFY came through. Nice close race,
It was time to read and write a little bit which I did, Then a call from my best friend from College who lives in New York. She has high levels of enthusiasm and we sort of match each other or exhaust each other some times. Today was a match. I have had a few great visits and meeting this week. So I am happily tired.
Now another spectacle--well the game has resumed. More later,
Friday, May 18, 2018
DOROTHY DAY THROWS DOWN THE GAUNTLET
“I really only love God as much as I love the person I love the least.” by DOROTHY DAY
I was stopped in my tracks when I read this sentence attributed to Dorothy Day, the woman who started the Catholic Worker Movement. I had known of her since childhood because my mother subscribed to the Catholic Worker Newspaper and she often read aloud or brought articles about workers' struggles to my attention. My mother was forced to leave school after the 8th Grade and to begin sweeping out a mill to help support the family. She was the smartest graduate of Saint Patrick's Grammar School and won many awards.
She was an avid reader and she seemed to find the important writers. She read and was amazed by Thomas Merton;s Seven Story Mountain and read some sections aloud to me.
I have often spoken about her poetry but she was a constant library person and took me weekly downtown to two libraries The Pawtucket Public Library and Saint Augustine's Book Store and Lending Library. In these days of going through the collections here in her house I have found her well worn and underlined copy of THE IMITATION OF CHRIST,
So what am I to make of that sentence from Dorothy Day?? Who is the person that I love the least and how is that a limit or a gauge of my love of God? We say that God still loves us no matter what we do. But we do not extend the same unwavering love to people who wrong or harm us. Where did I draw the line?
Over the years I have become aware in work environments of colleagues who were undermining me or gossiping against me and I disliked them.
It was when I began using Buddhist exercises under the influence of Pema Chodron,an American Buddhist nun, that I practiced her exercise of gradually beginning with the people closest to us and wishing them all the best things in their lives. And then she asks us to extend that well-wishing to more and more distant circles of our acquaintances. AND although I might have hesitated as the circles began to include people who have tried to harm me I did not have the desire to harm them and I was able to extend my good wishes to them.
I am grateful that I do not experience desire for revenge. I have only felt that burning rage to get back at someone in my childhood when I witnessed my sisters being mistreated and ridiculed. I was their champion and they knew that and ran to me if they understood that they were being abused. Oftentimes they did not.
I often plotted and sometimes exacted revenge in those days of my childhood in Pawtucket.
But unlike the pear stealing, I saved those tales for the confessional.
I was stopped in my tracks when I read this sentence attributed to Dorothy Day, the woman who started the Catholic Worker Movement. I had known of her since childhood because my mother subscribed to the Catholic Worker Newspaper and she often read aloud or brought articles about workers' struggles to my attention. My mother was forced to leave school after the 8th Grade and to begin sweeping out a mill to help support the family. She was the smartest graduate of Saint Patrick's Grammar School and won many awards.
She was an avid reader and she seemed to find the important writers. She read and was amazed by Thomas Merton;s Seven Story Mountain and read some sections aloud to me.
I have often spoken about her poetry but she was a constant library person and took me weekly downtown to two libraries The Pawtucket Public Library and Saint Augustine's Book Store and Lending Library. In these days of going through the collections here in her house I have found her well worn and underlined copy of THE IMITATION OF CHRIST,
So what am I to make of that sentence from Dorothy Day?? Who is the person that I love the least and how is that a limit or a gauge of my love of God? We say that God still loves us no matter what we do. But we do not extend the same unwavering love to people who wrong or harm us. Where did I draw the line?
Over the years I have become aware in work environments of colleagues who were undermining me or gossiping against me and I disliked them.
It was when I began using Buddhist exercises under the influence of Pema Chodron,an American Buddhist nun, that I practiced her exercise of gradually beginning with the people closest to us and wishing them all the best things in their lives. And then she asks us to extend that well-wishing to more and more distant circles of our acquaintances. AND although I might have hesitated as the circles began to include people who have tried to harm me I did not have the desire to harm them and I was able to extend my good wishes to them.
I am grateful that I do not experience desire for revenge. I have only felt that burning rage to get back at someone in my childhood when I witnessed my sisters being mistreated and ridiculed. I was their champion and they knew that and ran to me if they understood that they were being abused. Oftentimes they did not.
I often plotted and sometimes exacted revenge in those days of my childhood in Pawtucket.
But unlike the pear stealing, I saved those tales for the confessional.
Thursday, May 17, 2018
THE INEFFABLE WITHIN OUR REACH
WHAT THE ARTS CAN DO AND WHAT SPORTS CAN DO.
I am going to sound more like a fool than usual today because three things just suddenly came together in my mind in a way that surprised and overtook me with the rightness of it all.
EPIPHANY IN THE BUCKET!!
Yes, it happened here just last night. I was watching the happy fact of the Rockets finally overtaking the Warriors and I was switching to a wonderful two hour concert of the songs of Emmylou Harris and I had read earlier that day a post by the Franciscan ground-breaker Richard Rohr and he spoke of how Spiritual reality can show itself in the artistic and creative achievements of others.
I would enlarge that and say that a richer spiritual reality suddenly surfaces in our daily lives when we see some sports moments and some musical moments and they sweep us up into an almost ecstatic recognition of the REALITY OF THE DIVINE that is keeping it all going.
For me 1st. it was the perfection and swiftness of the Rockets in moving and passing the ball. They make plain that basketball is a team sport. And they suddenly brought to mind the words that I heard a player say on GET UP that morning. He said that THE BALL is a Magnet it draws all players to it and when they have it and pass it they feel a tremendous energy.
I was struck when I heard it because it silenced every one else on the show because it was a real moment of what People in other than Christian traditions call DARSHAN--the moment when the veil trembles and we get a glimpse at the hidden reality. That is what he was telling us about. That is how the Spirit touches a basketball player. And when they do not get to hold and pass the ball they become bystanders in their own defeat. See that in the CAVS in Game 2 against the Celtics.
Who ever wants to win the NAtional Championship has now seen a model of how to do it. Rockets, Celtics and Cavs should watch the tape of the Houston team defeating the greatest team in the NBA.. That is the way to do it. Recalling that BASKETBALL IS A TEAM SPORT --it is never for long a one-man show.
I am going to sound more like a fool than usual today because three things just suddenly came together in my mind in a way that surprised and overtook me with the rightness of it all.
EPIPHANY IN THE BUCKET!!
Yes, it happened here just last night. I was watching the happy fact of the Rockets finally overtaking the Warriors and I was switching to a wonderful two hour concert of the songs of Emmylou Harris and I had read earlier that day a post by the Franciscan ground-breaker Richard Rohr and he spoke of how Spiritual reality can show itself in the artistic and creative achievements of others.
I would enlarge that and say that a richer spiritual reality suddenly surfaces in our daily lives when we see some sports moments and some musical moments and they sweep us up into an almost ecstatic recognition of the REALITY OF THE DIVINE that is keeping it all going.
For me 1st. it was the perfection and swiftness of the Rockets in moving and passing the ball. They make plain that basketball is a team sport. And they suddenly brought to mind the words that I heard a player say on GET UP that morning. He said that THE BALL is a Magnet it draws all players to it and when they have it and pass it they feel a tremendous energy.
I was struck when I heard it because it silenced every one else on the show because it was a real moment of what People in other than Christian traditions call DARSHAN--the moment when the veil trembles and we get a glimpse at the hidden reality. That is what he was telling us about. That is how the Spirit touches a basketball player. And when they do not get to hold and pass the ball they become bystanders in their own defeat. See that in the CAVS in Game 2 against the Celtics.
Who ever wants to win the NAtional Championship has now seen a model of how to do it. Rockets, Celtics and Cavs should watch the tape of the Houston team defeating the greatest team in the NBA.. That is the way to do it. Recalling that BASKETBALL IS A TEAM SPORT --it is never for long a one-man show.
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
FORBIDDEN PLACES IN THE BUCKET
I CANNOT HELP MYSELF
There were several places that were absolutely off limits. My mother told me to never go there. They were all too dangerous and they were so close by.
Of course I went to every one of them. Some of them I frequented regularly. Some I even lured my friends in the neighborhood to keep me company. And only one turned out to be truly scary.
Here is the short list of the places that my mother ruled off limits all so close and tempting:
1. THE BACK LOTS
2. THE BLUE POND
3.THE BARREL YARD IN DUNNELLS LANE
4. DICKS VARIETY STORE.
5,THE DUG OUT AT MC COY
GUESS WHICH ONE WAS ACTUALLY SCARY AND DANGEROUS??
I will write about each--one at a time and tell all the truth --the shocking or/and dull details.
Meanwhile the scariest thing in my life right now is the EASTERN FINALS. It is starting to feel like an exercise in futility--no matter who wins they will still have the Mount Everest of the National Finals--the Warriors ahead of them and a final agonizing defeat.
Nobody said this journey was going to be easy. After all, the Perfect One said two words--FOLLOW ME-- and started trekking to CALVARY
There were several places that were absolutely off limits. My mother told me to never go there. They were all too dangerous and they were so close by.
Of course I went to every one of them. Some of them I frequented regularly. Some I even lured my friends in the neighborhood to keep me company. And only one turned out to be truly scary.
Here is the short list of the places that my mother ruled off limits all so close and tempting:
1. THE BACK LOTS
2. THE BLUE POND
3.THE BARREL YARD IN DUNNELLS LANE
4. DICKS VARIETY STORE.
5,THE DUG OUT AT MC COY
GUESS WHICH ONE WAS ACTUALLY SCARY AND DANGEROUS??
I will write about each--one at a time and tell all the truth --the shocking or/and dull details.
Meanwhile the scariest thing in my life right now is the EASTERN FINALS. It is starting to feel like an exercise in futility--no matter who wins they will still have the Mount Everest of the National Finals--the Warriors ahead of them and a final agonizing defeat.
Nobody said this journey was going to be easy. After all, the Perfect One said two words--FOLLOW ME-- and started trekking to CALVARY
Monday, May 14, 2018
WE'LL BE BETTER or worse IN GAME TWO
Every year is a different challenge.
So says LeBron at the podium after the loss of the first game.
From my perspective every day is a different challenge.
I have Zero concern. I didn't go to college this is not March Madness.
I get it. It is not ONE AND DONE. Maybe it's time to take turns--I hate sweeps too boring. ON WITH THE SHOW!
Today my challenge is how can I finally make something of the materials that I found. How to best publish my mother's poems and John Coleman's poems?
My friend Maureen came by today for tea and to visit on Mother's Day. I showed her the poems in the beautiful handwriting of John Coleman whose poems were published in a newspaper called the Mid-Ulster Mail located in Cookstown County Tyrone. NI. Copies of some of these poems were clipped and mailed to Margaret's father, my grandfather Joe Coleman. and she would come home from school and he would be reading them aloud to his wife and children.
What are the obstacles to my making a publishable manuscript of these poems?
I have little energy
I cannot sit for long in my desk chair
I cannot access my office area because it is filled with the boxes we are emptying and filling.
What actions can I take?
Ask the cloud of witnesses that are displaying their interest here to help me find people to help me.
Send them to me.
Pray for help from saints like
Edmund Campion
Catherine of Siena
Saint Bridget
Special shout out of thanks to Saint Anthony of Padua who found all these things that I thought were lost.
Now help me make the most of these gifts and found objects and show me the way to bring these stories and this work forward.
THE CAVS AND THE CELTICS get 7 chances to win a game.
I need seven times seven shots to bring this task to fruition.
And maybe those famous seven Spanish angels to help.
So says LeBron at the podium after the loss of the first game.
From my perspective every day is a different challenge.
I have Zero concern. I didn't go to college this is not March Madness.
I get it. It is not ONE AND DONE. Maybe it's time to take turns--I hate sweeps too boring. ON WITH THE SHOW!
Today my challenge is how can I finally make something of the materials that I found. How to best publish my mother's poems and John Coleman's poems?
My friend Maureen came by today for tea and to visit on Mother's Day. I showed her the poems in the beautiful handwriting of John Coleman whose poems were published in a newspaper called the Mid-Ulster Mail located in Cookstown County Tyrone. NI. Copies of some of these poems were clipped and mailed to Margaret's father, my grandfather Joe Coleman. and she would come home from school and he would be reading them aloud to his wife and children.
What are the obstacles to my making a publishable manuscript of these poems?
I have little energy
I cannot sit for long in my desk chair
I cannot access my office area because it is filled with the boxes we are emptying and filling.
What actions can I take?
Ask the cloud of witnesses that are displaying their interest here to help me find people to help me.
Send them to me.
Pray for help from saints like
Edmund Campion
Catherine of Siena
Saint Bridget
Special shout out of thanks to Saint Anthony of Padua who found all these things that I thought were lost.
Now help me make the most of these gifts and found objects and show me the way to bring these stories and this work forward.
THE CAVS AND THE CELTICS get 7 chances to win a game.
I need seven times seven shots to bring this task to fruition.
And maybe those famous seven Spanish angels to help.
Sunday, May 13, 2018
A HAPPY PROBLEM
OR I AM SURE TO WIN AND LOSE
I have been a Celtics fan since the Larry Bird era.
Let me give you some idea of how much I loved Bird. When I took the wonderful job at the University of Cincinnati in 1984 one of the inducements was that I would be close to Larry's home state, Indiana.
We moved to Cincy in the summer and before classes started in September I made a sort of pilgrimage to French Lick, Larry Bird's home town. Once I got there I drove up and down the streets to see if there was anything to commemorate Larry.
Believe it or not I came upon a place called Bird's Liquors. I parked and walked in and there greeting me at the entrance was a larger than life cardboard image of Larry in his Celtics uniform--very short shorts you may recall!
I walked in and there behind the counter was an older version of Larry standing at the cash register. There was no mistaking him--tall, blonde hair, heavier and older but decidedly similar. I walked up and asked if he was Larry's brother and he said -Yes.
That was enough for me. I bought a huge poster of Larry standing with his basketball. And when I got my new office in the English Department I put that poster up on the back of the office door. Students who came to speak to me usually did not notice it until they turned to leave the office and there they came face to face with a towering image of Bird on the back of my door.
When the season started I actually reserved two tickets to a Celtics game in Indianapolis and drove over there with my husband to attend my first NBA game.
I learned that we could also get reduced faculty seats to Bearcat games at UC, and the next year we bought two excellent season seats and my passion for basketball was set aflame.
Although when he began to play in the NBA I became aware of LeBron's talents, I did not get caught up in his story. Although I always enjoyed watching him play.
Then when LeBron returned from Miami to Cleveland, he won my heart. And when he finally succeeded in taking the Cavaliers to the Finals I was enthralled.
At that time I was recovering from two surgeries and I was discouraged, I remember listening to LeBron express his confidence in his team. And he said something about the need for confidence. He explained that they would not be going to the Finals if they did not have confidence. He asked--Do you think I could have come this far without confidence?
I thought about his words and applied them to my situation. I must have confidence that the surgeon had removed all the cancer. My attitude would not change the facts-- after all the surgeon, the famous Doctor Atul Gawande, had completed his job--but my life would be a different life if I could live it with confidence.
Confidence changes the way a player plays. LeBron said that, and confidence would change the way I live. I was grateful for his words and I followed his advice and I have had confidence in him ever since.
So when the Cavs and Celtics compete this afternoon I will be in the lucky position : no matter which wins I will be rooting for the winner. I am not going to pick sides, I am going to enjoy a fascinating match up. I only hope it is not a sweep because both teams deserve better than that.
I have been a Celtics fan since the Larry Bird era.
Let me give you some idea of how much I loved Bird. When I took the wonderful job at the University of Cincinnati in 1984 one of the inducements was that I would be close to Larry's home state, Indiana.
We moved to Cincy in the summer and before classes started in September I made a sort of pilgrimage to French Lick, Larry Bird's home town. Once I got there I drove up and down the streets to see if there was anything to commemorate Larry.
Believe it or not I came upon a place called Bird's Liquors. I parked and walked in and there greeting me at the entrance was a larger than life cardboard image of Larry in his Celtics uniform--very short shorts you may recall!
I walked in and there behind the counter was an older version of Larry standing at the cash register. There was no mistaking him--tall, blonde hair, heavier and older but decidedly similar. I walked up and asked if he was Larry's brother and he said -Yes.
That was enough for me. I bought a huge poster of Larry standing with his basketball. And when I got my new office in the English Department I put that poster up on the back of the office door. Students who came to speak to me usually did not notice it until they turned to leave the office and there they came face to face with a towering image of Bird on the back of my door.
When the season started I actually reserved two tickets to a Celtics game in Indianapolis and drove over there with my husband to attend my first NBA game.
I learned that we could also get reduced faculty seats to Bearcat games at UC, and the next year we bought two excellent season seats and my passion for basketball was set aflame.
Although when he began to play in the NBA I became aware of LeBron's talents, I did not get caught up in his story. Although I always enjoyed watching him play.
Then when LeBron returned from Miami to Cleveland, he won my heart. And when he finally succeeded in taking the Cavaliers to the Finals I was enthralled.
At that time I was recovering from two surgeries and I was discouraged, I remember listening to LeBron express his confidence in his team. And he said something about the need for confidence. He explained that they would not be going to the Finals if they did not have confidence. He asked--Do you think I could have come this far without confidence?
I thought about his words and applied them to my situation. I must have confidence that the surgeon had removed all the cancer. My attitude would not change the facts-- after all the surgeon, the famous Doctor Atul Gawande, had completed his job--but my life would be a different life if I could live it with confidence.
Confidence changes the way a player plays. LeBron said that, and confidence would change the way I live. I was grateful for his words and I followed his advice and I have had confidence in him ever since.
So when the Cavs and Celtics compete this afternoon I will be in the lucky position : no matter which wins I will be rooting for the winner. I am not going to pick sides, I am going to enjoy a fascinating match up. I only hope it is not a sweep because both teams deserve better than that.
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