My Special Memories of New Years Celebrations of days gone by....

I dragged out an old blog post and amended it a little.  The memories are just as sweet.

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For those of you who may not know, I am originally from South Philly.  We moved to Southwest when I was about five, and moved back to South Philly when I was 16.  But for every year, no matter where we lived, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day were very special.

On New Years Eve, my grandmother Angela (Dad's mother) always had a big open house party.  She lived (for most of those years) on 1121 Tasker St.  All her sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews would come. There was LOTS and lots of food, drink and laughter.  My grandmother, in those years, was a wonderful, vibrant and fun woman.  And her talent.... well, she was a commercial artist, a dressmaker and an interior designer.  I can't draw a straight line, and can't sew a button.  All I got was her temper!  But that's another story for another time.  Those New Years Eve parties were enjoyed for many years, until I guess she got tired of them.  When she moved to 12th St in 1966 they ended.

But another tradition lived on for many MORE years... On New Year's Day, there was this little parade on Broad Street...  Of course, the Mummers.  When I was little, I thought it was called Mummer's Day because that's what I always heard.  I thought everyone in the world came to it, and thought that every city had one.  Only later did I learn that the Mummers are distinctly and only Philadelphia.  I love my city (even though it's changed and I don't live there anymore!)

My dad's uncles, Ralph and Paris, would get their prime spot on Broad St. directly across from the St. Agnes Hospital.  They always brought a ladder, and the nieces and nephews always had a prime viewing spot.  And Dad always had a thermos full of "special" coffee... spiked!  I remember him letting us sip it when we got too cold.

When it would get unbearably cold, we would walk back to Grandmom Rucci's house on Iseminger St., where you were sure to get laughs, and hot chocolate and cookies.  Then when you were warm, you would go back out to Broad Street in time for the String Bands.  Then you would go back to Grandmom's where there would be food, laughs, fun, card games and (mostly friendly) arguments!  Great times.

This went on for most of my youth, up till I was in my late teens.  The memories are burned into my mind, and they are sweet memories of a family long gone.  The only of my grandmother's siblings still alive is Aunt Cheta... she is in her 90s and looks fabulous.  The Ruccis always held their age remarkably well.

Since those days ended, we had many other New Years Eve parties, some at Mom's house (one of which lasted three days because the parade was canceled!) and some we celebrated with the Archer Epler drum corps brothers and sisters.  All good times.

Maybe its a sign of age that New Years Eve and New Years Day are now just days to me.  I prefer to stay in now, and prefer to not travel far even on New Years Day.  I'm happy to stay here, warm and comfy, after an early dinner with some close friends.  And I'm happy to see in the New Year quietly, and stay home and watch the parade without having to trek a couple of blocks to get warm.

I prefer to let those memories flow and keep me warm.  I truly value the family I have, the friends I've made, and the traditions that once graced our lives.

Make yourself some good memories.  Even though Grandmom Rucci, most of the aunts and uncles, and Dad are gone, they live in our hearts, and most of all, in our smiles.

May 2020 year be a good one for all of you. And may it NOT take you till May to write "2020" instead of 2019.  HA!

Happy, Healthy New Year, everyone.  Be safe, and make sure you tell your family and friends you LOVE THEM.  Say it, Mean it, Show it!  Good night.  <3  I love you all.

The Power of Prayer - IT IS REAL

If you get offended by my talking about my personal prayer life, skip this over.  You may not think prayer helps... but WHAT CAN IT HURT?

Today, in the wake of the departure/arrival of Hurricane Dorian...

I realized that many people prayed it would change course and not hit Florida.  It hit the Bahamas hard, and it's not for us to question God why.  I suppose He has His reasons.  But, now it has skirted the coast of Florida and Georgia, causing some wind and rain and possible flooding.  And there's the possibility it hits SC, NC, VA.  However, I know it could have been SO MUCH worse had it hit Florida the way it was first thought.  It could have been total devastation and loss of life.  What else could have turned that hurricane away from the mainland?  WHO ELSE could have?  No one on this earth, that's for sure.  

It irks the hell out of me that people, even some supposed friends, make fun of me and others for "sending thoughts and prayers".  They make fun of it and scowl at it as if it has no merit.  Well, I think they're dead wrong, and no one will ever be able to change my mind.

When I got out of high school, in spite of my 12 years of Catholic school, I turned away from the church.  Not because of anything specific other than I was buying into the bullshit that it didn't do any good.  I know some of you still believe that.  That's on you.

When we moved here, the parish was doing house to house visitations, the way they did when you were a kid, the priest comes into the house and blesses it.  Father Dougherty, the pastor, saw me outside doing yard work.  He asked if I felt it unusual, being the only Protestant in my row of houses.  I sheepishly said I was Catholic but fallen away.  He smiled, blessed me anyway, and went to the next house.  I thought of it often and my "little voice" kept telling me to go back to church.

Shortly thereafter, I was invited to my next door neighbor's daughter's wedding.  At the reception, you were not allowed to clink glasses to get the bride and groom to kiss.  You and your whole table had to get up and sing a song with "Love" in it.  So we got up, and I led "What the World Needs Now".  My neighbor, bless her soul, Anita Conrad, said Lou and I should join the choir because she thought we could sing.  She was also in the choir.  So we did.  And then, figuring it was a church choir, I should probably come back to the Sacraments.  The following Holy Thursday, I did.  Went back to church and who was giving the homily at Mass but Father Dougherty.   In his homily, he said, "Come home.  Come home to the Church.  Come home to the Sacraments.  If you haven't confessed in a long while, come to me.  There will be no sermons, no yelling, no judgement."   So the following week, after Easter, I did.  I went face to face as I learned to do at West Catholic.  I was petrified! (I should add that Lou also returned to church.)

The good Father was gentle.  He said, OK, here's what we do.  I will say the commandment, and you tell me if you did it.  I was instantly at ease.  He laughed when I said he could skip 5 (killing) and 6 (adultery).  He made it SO easy to come back.  And that was in 1993.  I've been back ever since.

Which brings me to the reason I so completely believe in the power of prayer.  In time, the choir director changed, and one of the following pastors fired her.  Dr. Lucy Carroll went to the Carmelite Monastery, and a few of the choir followed her.  "The Rogue Choir", also known as the Monastery Mice.  We started singing there in 1999 and were there till 2017 when the sisters took in 11 new nuns and do their own singing now, as the Masses are all Latin.

We sang every year at the Novena of Our Lady of Mount Carmel.  One year, Lucy hurt her ankle and couldn't drive.  She had to go every night as organist, and asked me to drive her.  So I did.  Earlier that year, my brother lost his job, and my father was getting very ill with complications from the Parkinson's Disease which robbed him of his ability to walk and talk.  It was very difficult to watch him decline, and even more difficult for the love of his life, my mother.

So, I figured I'd make this Novena worth it.  I prayed every night of the nine nights that my brother would find a job soon, and then asked the good Lord to take my father so he wouldn't suffer any more.  I felt awful that I actually prayed for my father's passing.  

The Novena ends on July 16th, the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel.  

The following week, my brother found a job.  And on July 19th, my dad went to Heaven.  If that doesn't make you a believer...  I don't know what does.

So ever since then, through good times and bad times, rough times and easy times, wellness and illness, predicament after predicament, I prayed and prayed.  And learned that God has His own timetable.  That He answers ALL prayers, but that sometimes the answer is NO.  And that HE knows what's best for you, even if you get mad at Him.  He's the guy you can ALWAYS go back to because He's always willing to forgive you, no matter what you did, no matter how bad you think it was.  He's willing to forgive you, even when you think you're not good enough for forgiveness.  

So YES.  I believe in the power of prayer.  I always will, because I've seen it.  If you don't want to believe, fine.  It's not my job to judge.  The Lord said it, and I believe it, and that's it.  

Just some Thoughts....

Over the past few days, I was in Ocean City, NJ with my dear friend of over 45 years.  We are both the same age (66).  Neither of us have any biological kids, though we have both helped a few over the years.  We stayed at the Beach Club, on the Boardwalk at 13th St. 

It was a very nice stay.  We made a few observations:

    Little kids now are so freakin' spoiled.  I can tell you I saw a few temper tantrums that my parents would have NEVER tolerated.  We were not permitted to misbehave or shout or screech at the top of our lungs at a restaurant.  No way.  Same at the swimming pool.  One tantrum and it would be the last.  Somehow we grew up and survived a smack on the ass.  These idiot parents are raising the next generation of entitled little weenies and criminals, who see that there's no consequence for misbehavior or acting like a little shit in a restaurant or other public venue.  If the adults wanted any time in the swimming pool, they could forget it.  I wish they would have had a swim for adults only that started after the pool closed to the brats at 7pm. 

   We should open a resort/retreat for people OVER 55 only.  And that means, everyone.  Don't bring your whining, crying, spoiled little brat bastards to my resort.  No kids including your spoiled, entitled little grandbrats.  Yeah, this means everyone. 

DON'T be a Dumbass.... and don't be a victim.

As always, if you are easily offended, GET OFF THIS PAGE now.

Remember when you were a little kid, and your mother and father told you:

-   DO NOT talk to strangers
-   DO NOT take candy/gum/anything from strangers
-   NEVER ever ever get into a car with anyone you don't know

Well wasn't that valid advice that probably kept a few of us out of danger?   Consider the idiocy of the present day:

-   Call a STRANGER because you need a ride
-   When stranger comes, in strange car, take a ride with them


HELLO???

What the hell is wrong with us????  If you need a uber or lyft because you have been stupid enough to drink too much... you're a dumbass.

But if you absolutely can't keep from being a DUMBASS, and need to call a stranger to take you home, thereby knowing where you live... well, fine.  Call the stranger.  Find a buddy, and don't go alone.  But when the stranger in the car gets there...  you do NOT ask "are you the uber/lyft driver"  because that's just a stupid thing to do.  You ask the uber/lyft driver,  "what's MY name" and if he/she/it can't answer....  remember your parents' warning and DO NOT GET IN.  In fact, run.

If you are a dumbass, you need not read any further.

DON'T go to a bar, club, or meat market where you're unknown - alone.  Do not EVER leave your drink unattended if someone has bought it for you.  Ever.  DO NOT go to the restroom alone and leave a drink.  EVER.

If you are not a dumbass, and especially if you are a woman, for f*cks sake, take a gun safety course, and forget spending the money on drinks and buy a LEGAL REGISTERED FIREARM.  Learn how to use it.  Get comfortable with loading, unloading, and FIRING the weapon.

If you are not comfortable with exercising your Second Amendment rights, fine.  If you aren't comfy with the whole gun thing, then by all means DO NOT BUY OR EVER EVEN PICK ONE UP.

If you MUST still be a dumbass (an unarmed dumbass, that is) then for f*cks sake, take a SELF DEFENSE course and learn to defend yourself from other dumbasses who intend to harm you.

It is neither difficult, nor do you have to be a large person, to take down an assailant.  You only need be wise and learn where to aim.  Kicking, screaming and scratching at the person's face or eyes is good.  A kick to the goodies is always good.  A heel planted on the instep is also good.  The flat part of the palm of your hand, applied quickly and forcefully to someone's chin or better yet, nose, will in all likelihood incapacitate the assailant until you can get away.  The side of your foot, scraped down the assailants shin then stamping on the assailant's foot as hard as you can will slow him down.  Pepper Spray is good ONLY as long as YOU don't get a faceful of it.

Whatever you do... DON'T LET YOURSELF BECOME A VICTIM.  Don't go out asking for trouble.  Anyone out after midnight... in all likelihood, is up to or has been up to NO GOOD.

Be smart.  Don't go alone.  Learn to defend yourself.  Don't be someone's victim.  If you don't want to learn to shoot somebody's ass, make sure you at least can KICK it.