Tuesday, July 24, 2018

The Story Behind #TodaysSunflower

 

     Many times I have posted a photo of a sunflower with the #TodaysSunflower hash tag.  Some of you may know the story behind these postings but for those of you who don't....here is the reason.

     My father HATED sunflowers.


     My son, when little, brought home a little sunflower plant from a sale at school.  There is an adorable photo of him with the baby plant and then a photo of how beautiful it looked when it grew in my garden.  It has hung on my parents' fridge for ever.  "Gosh, I hate sunflowers.  Cute photo but I hate those flowers," my father would explain.

    When we first bought our home, we were so excited to have a garden of our home.  My husband dug and planted and watered and our first garden was so beautiful to us.  And yes, we had planted some sunflowers.  "The garden looks great," said Dad, "but I'm not wild about the sunflowers".

    Again in our new home we were excited to purchase some art for the bare walls.  Nothing fancy, like prints from Michaels, but one print was of  a very large sunflower.  "The room looks great", again Dad said, "but I could do without the sunflower print".

    Finally, I needed to try to find out.  "Dad, what is your deal with sunflowers?  I don't get it."

    At the time my Dad said, "I can't explain it, they just don't sit well with me."

   "But they are just a flower, it just doesn't make sense", I insisted.

    "I honestly don't know, there is a reason I don't like them.  That's it.  No big deal", he explained.

     Time went on and things got messy.  My Dad passed away after battling an illness in the Summer of 2004.  Obviously, it was rough on all of us.  Most of that time is blurry.  But there is one very distinctive memory.

    At the cemetery I noticed that the plot behind my father's was covered in little sunflowers.  Small plants, plastic ones.  I guess his eternal neighbor really liked sunflowers.  I said a little prayer to my father:  "I'm so sorry you have to be around the one flower you hated.  But I promise that whenever I see a sunflower, I will think and you and say hello".


   For the year following my father's passing I wrote in a small journal.  Almost every day I saw a sunflower and I would write it down.  No one really knew about this.  And it wasn't like I would pass by the same deli flower display in NYC -- every sighting was different.  Someone might send me a card, there might have been a display in Macy's windows, a commercial on TV or someone's flower arrangement on their desk.

   My first tattoo was of a sunflower....I choose it to honor my Dad, but in all honesty he would have HATED that I got a tattoo.

   Could it be that he hated them so much because he somehow knew he would stuck by them forever?  Almost 14 years later, the plot still has a sampling of sunflowers.  Did he hate them so much that I would remember that at this tough time and have a touchstone to remember him by?  Who knows.

   So when you see a posting (and now many of my friends know about my sunflower story and add sunflower emojis to texts or send me photos when they see one too) you will know the significance.

   #TodaysSunflower.  Miss you too.  Love, me


 

Thursday, July 19, 2018

The Summer Of Jaws

     1975.....my girlfriend and I went to see JAWS.  It forever changed my summers.  1975 in particular but it's something that I do think about off and on when I'm out swimming in the ocean.  Just yesterday, this same friend and I went to our beautiful Long Island beach to enjoy a day off.  At one point, there were several helicopters flying low and slow.  Now, in our neck of the woods that could mean a lot of things.  Rich folk flying from NYC to their Hampton hideaway, bad traffic issues or missing boaters or swimmers.

     My girlfriend said that, according to her husband, that is how they look for sharks.  I honestly didn't think much about it until I saw the news when we got home.

Shark attacks two children at Long Island beach

     OMFG....everyone was ok, but definitely bitten by a shark.  And the news just kept replaying this one tasty (bad pun) tidbit:  "And a tooth was found in the boy's leg".   Again OMFG.   We were not at the same beach, but at the same ocean for goodness sakes.  I didn't go in past my waist, but neither did one of the victims.

     Suddenly, without warning, the voices in my head dulled and a very striking piece of music started playing in my head and it brought me way back to the summer of '75. 



     Thank you Steven Spielberg for creating what will probably go down in history as one of the best films ever....but you totally f-ed up my summer.

     As I said, my girlfriend and I went to see the film right after opening in June of 75.  I believe there are still marks on my arm from her fingernails.  Now granted movie special effects have really changed the game since then.  However, for that time, this movie was so terrifying.  And if you've seen it at some point in your life, I'm sorry....you never forget the girl swimming in the opening.


     My grandmother saw the film and remarked, "well you shouldn't be drinking and swimming alone at night."  I guess there was some sort of morality lesson I missed?  That sharks went after 'bad' girls?

     During this summer I was lifeguarding and teaching swimming at a school's summer program INDOOR pool.  Indoor mind you but every day I would have a handful of children saying "No, Miss Patti, I'm not going in the pool today.  There could be sharks."  Or "I am NOT going in the deep end, what is that on the bottom?"  It is just a filter I would try to explain.  These kids needed to get into the pool....honestly I found it the easiest way to learn how to SWIM! 

     The only way I could convince them is if I got in the water with them. I swear, every kid, for two months, looked like this.


     So I would have some kids sitting on the edge while I escorted some of them into the pool.  These poor babies would be shrieking and clinging onto my neck that I think I still have scars.  And I kept thinking these are like 7 year olds, who the hell is taking them to see that movie?  This is what their poor little scared minds saw.


      More lifeguarding life later....but what an awesome job.  I spent 6 days a week waterclogged but loved every minute of it, and my kids were always so precious to me. 

     By the end of the summer my kids all passed their swimming tests but I was exhausted!  My Dad also worked for the school system so we always took our family vacations in August.  That year we were heading down to the west coast of Florida.

    I always loved the ocean....body surfing, diving under the waves before they broke on your head.  And in my tiny mind, I thought that bad sharks are up only in Northeast waters.  Idiot.

     Anyway, my little brother and Mom were either at the pool or in the room and I begged my Dad to take me to the ocean.  I was a very good and strong swimmer but you just didn't go out alone.  And the lifeguards had left for the day.

     Dad, being a good sport, accompanied me down to the water.  I immediately dove into the warm water (Northeast ocean water is freezing) and started bobbing in the waves, swimming pretty far out and having a blast.

     The next part of the story comes from my Mom's recollections.  "Your father was standing at the end of the water watching you when he realized there was not one other person in the water or even near the water.  He asked a man fishing, 'hey where is everyone?'  The guy replied 'oh there was a shark sighting earlier.'  It didn't sink in immediately with your father.  He asked the guy 'oh really, where'?  The fisherman crinkled up his nose, put his hand above his eyes to block out the sun and pointed.  'See where that redhead girl is swimming?  Yeah right around there."


     Back to the story from my vantage point.  I have really bad eyesight.  And out playing in the waves, my hearing is not too good either.  I happen to look up and see my father doing some sort of crazy man dance.  My immediate thought is 'oh my God how embarassing what is doing'?  I finally realized, after what seemed like an eternity to my Dad, that he was telling me I had to come in.    He used the excuse that we needed to get ready for dinner or something.  I asked 'can I go back in tomorrow'?  "We'll see", he said, "but the pool looks really nice".

So yes, the power of the movies....and why that movie will stay with me forever. 




Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Fan Girling

 
 
     I was a little too young for Beatlemania, but I do have a memory of my parents watching the Ed Sullivan show and coverage of the concert at Shea Stadium.  I remember thinking why are all these girls so upset and screaming.


     "They are fans", my Mom explained, "they are just so happy to see their favorite band."  Crying, fainting, looking crazy?  I sure do get it now.....a short history of my Fan Girling.

   The initial blame must go to Tiger Beat Magazine.  I was obsessed with The Monkees.  With Micky Dolenz in particular.  I was entranced with reading about "what is Micky's fave type of girl"?  "What does Micky eat for breakfast?"


He was taped all over my walls and when he let his hair go naturally curly I just about lost my shit.  Immediately I started staring at my hair follicles, willing them to go curly.  One day my Mom and I were locked out of the house.  Since I was still little she said I'll open the basement window and slide you down and you can unlock us.  Oh hell no.  "I'll buy you the new Monkees album if you do."  I shot through that window like my pants were on fire.

   The next day my Mom kept her promise and I scored the newest album.


    Albums were a big deal.  It wasn't like we had a ton of money so we would save up our birthday money and go to Masters in the local strip mall.  Downstairs they had all the current top 40 singles up on a wall and you would pick that number and get your precious single.  You had to have a special thingy to convert the 45 to play on your turntable.  Obviously I was a little hyper organized even then.  I recently found my hot pink 45s carrier and my carefully labeled list.




     At a town festival recently, a local band was playing and I started walking toward the sound (kind of like walking to the light but in an audio, not death is coming way).  My husband said "you are like a moth to a flame when you hear live music".

   Ah, live music.........nothing like it.   And I have been so fortunate to have seen some great bands and to have met some musicians that have always inspired me. 

  My first concert was Sonny & Cher at the Nassau Coliseum. 

   
     I have no shame....I remember them as being awesome.  The hair, the clothes.  Cher was my first fan girl crush.  I was a little dismayed to learn I would never look anything like her.  I wanted crooked teeth, ultra straight black hair and legs for days. 

  During my teenage years I remember most vividly Fleetwood Mac in the mid 1970s.  Talk about a fan girl crush.  I went from Gypsys, Tramps & Thieves to Rhiannon very quickly. 


The band and music were so memorable but a couple of teenage activities are what I most remember.  First of all....they even checked bags back in the day.  My first friend went in smuggling cigarettes.  My second friend went in lugging some vodka.  Another friend had wine in a bag.  I was the last to enter and I got stopped.  I had a gallon of orange juice in my bag.

  The security guard looked at me and said you need to get rid of that.  My friends had scattered to the winds leaving me literally holding the bag.  "I have a cold" was my explanation.  Needless to say no mixer for the vodka.  We should have known better.  All I wanted to hear was "Landslide".  Unfortunately the vodka kicked in when my girlfriend and I were in the bathroom.  I remember running through the hallways in my designer jeans, high heeled clogs, full of vodka shouting "no!!!"  Like Stevie was going to hear me and let me get back to my seat.

   Fast forward....London...1979/1980.  During my first six months I had an internship with the New Musical Express (kind of like a UK Rolling Stone).  I still can't believe it but I went to some shows, met the bands...most before they hit it big in the US.  The Brits called it New Wave...I call it the most incredible time.  My fave haunt was The Marquee Club on Wardour Street.

 
     Some of the bands I saw were The Jam, The Specials, Squeeze and The Police.

     I loved the Jam and all of Paul Weller's incarnations.....saw him a few years ago in NYC.  But the young Paul Weller was something special and he is now considered one of the guitar Gods.  "Going Underground" was one of their big hits at that time.  I thought he was the coolest thing I had ever seen in my young life. 
 


        I was obsessed with The Who's Quadrophrenia and traveled alone to Brighton, England where the movie was filmed.  It was a blast visiting some of the places portrayed in the film.  No Mod riots or Sting as a Bellboy, but what a fun excursion.


     And Mr. Billy Idol.  Pre White Wedding and Rebel Yell.   Oh my we were all so young.......


     And for a bit...green hair & safety pins.  Sorry Mom.

     Again, due to life getting busy with adulting my concert going days were not as frequent.  I did see the Rolling Stones at Shea Stadium on my last day of being 29.  That place was shaking.

      I won tickets through I Heart Radio to see a band called Neon Trees about 8 years ago.  They were just starting to get popular and my friend and I were right up front getting sweated on by the lead singer and it brought back my London days.  And I'm a sucker for a black Mohawk! 


 Through work I was able to go to Las Vegas to work tradeshows.  Most times the tradeshow organizers had an opening concert and we saw some great acts.  One was Rod Stewart.  In true fan girl fashion, I wore my vintage Rod Stewart t shirt as a friend of a friend of a friend was able to get me backstage.  Rod signed my shirt and was very respectful of where he wrote.  And his hair is amazing in person!  Truly a nice man.

  Another friend of a friend had a friend called Ryan Star.  I knew of him through the reality show Rock Star Supernova where singers competed to be the new lead singer of Tommy Lee's new band.  Ryan was also a born and raised Long Island boy.  I was able to connect with him, give him so goodies from the company I worked for and a friend and I saw him at Webster Hall.

  I then got the ultimate fan girl email:  "Hey Patti, Ryan is opening for Bon Jovi in Vegas.  Want tickets and a backstage pass?"  F of course.  That whole day of the concert I was a wreck.  I went with my Vegas sister Gina (who's last name is Bongiovi....like third cousin or something).  In the middle of the dinner, I got the call.....come backstage now!   Gina, who is the best wing woman, and I threw the rest of the pasta down our throats, threw too much money at the waiter and ran off.  Now, if you know anything about the MGM Grand in Vegas, the 'grand' is no exaggeration.  But we made it and how much fun was it for Gina to show Ryan her drivers license to validate her genuine "Bon Jovi- Ness".  No Bon Jovi sighting....but it was the pinnacle of my fan girling to just be around the area where Jon Bon Jovi might be!


    Ryan then performed at a local country club for Autism research and I have to admit....to have the guest of honor come sit with you, take pictures with you and chat.....the other Long Island ladies were a little jealous.....ok  a lot jealous.


   My most recent fan girling has lasted the longest.  Ten years ago, again in Vegas for work, a couple of girlfriends and I were leaving dinner, a few bottles of wine in, and passed by a lounge at The Venetian Hotel.  For a minute we thought "oh my God, is that Bon Jovi singing?"  We stumbled to a corner table and I realized that the lead singer was wearing shoes that my company manufactured.

   Being a loud mouth New Yorker, during a break, I yelled at the singer "hey are you wearing Kenneth Cole shoes?"  "Why yes I am...and my sunglasses are Kenneth Cole and my bag is Kenneth Cole and my jacket is Kenneth Cole."

   "Get out of here I work for him, let me see if I can get you some shoes!!"

   Now according to the version told by my friend Peter, he thought "oh yeah, sure.  I've heard that before".  In my head I thought "he doesn't believe me so I'll show him."  The next night, I go back to the lounge with two shopping bags filled with shoes.  He went home and said to his wife, "that girl actually came back with shoes."  Well, I told you I would!



    We've been friends ever since and I now have the ultimate fan girl real life job.  I work on all his marketing and social media efforts and I've never had so much fun working before.  And gained an amazing friend in the process. 

    Fan girling has been good to me! 





Friday, July 13, 2018

London Calling Part 1

    Let's get this out of the way because I know you all started singing:



    If you are like me, goals and dreams tend to have their genesis from many sources.  Friends, Teachers, Books, Family, Movies and the like.  During high school, when thoughts of college started to germinate my three requirements were:  1.  Live Away (but not too far).  2.  Coed (I went to an all girls high school for goodness sakes so duh on that one).   3. The school needed to have a study abroad program.  I honestly have no idea how this got into my head.  Certainly it wasn't a priority on the Guidance Counselor's list.  And most certainly not my parents.  Their reaction was "oh sure, great idea".
The HS Grad

   I started going to college fairs and recruitment meetings and if a school did not meet these requirements they were scratched off the list.  My parents urged me to broaden my search but I was fixated.  I needed to study abroad.  And London specifically. 


   Bear in mind at that point in time I had NEVER been anywhere alone.  I didn't go to summer camp, I didn't attend some boarding school in Switzerland.  If I traveled into the city it was always with a parent or friends with THEIR parent.  My parents basically said I would be running away. 

   The college fair circuit continued....SATs were taken (it was like I didn't show up for the math one, but for English I scored close to perfect).

   
     Applying to colleges was way easier back in the day.  I see now what juniors go through and I don't think I could do it again.  My extracurricular activities (sneaking into bars didn't count) were bowling and Captain of the Kick Team (kind of like the generic Disney characters on the Vegas streets, Rockettes style).  My grades were fine and I managed to get into each college I applied to.   Like I said much easier back then.   Only 1 had everything I wanted -- Marist College in Poughkeepsie, NY.

   More on college life later.  This was an amazing school but back in the day was not as well known as it is today.  When my parents said I was going to school in Poughkeepsie everyone thought "wow, she's going to Vassar!?!?!?".  "She's going to West Point?"  "She's going to The Culinary Institute?"  No, the OTHER college in Poughkeepsie.  Going to Marist is one of the best decisions I made....perfect for me and my "I don't know where this came from" idea of going to London.
 
Bon Voyage Party in the Dorm.  Or it could have been any party.  We had LOTS
     Fast forward to the summer following my sophomore year.

     Much to my parents' concern, I'm packing to study in London.  Based on my understanding of abroad programs in modern times, they last one semester and kids go over as a group.  I was leaving on my own for the entire school year.  It's hard to imagine but no cell phones, no SKYPE, no email....for goodness sakes my luggage didn't even have wheels in those days.  And talk about matchy-matchy.   So demure.

     
     And no debit or credit cards.  Just American Express Traveler's checks (Google them kids).
     But I was off.

    I left JFK and everything I knew behind and took off for London's Heathrow Airport.
   
     Once I landed, at 9pm, I needed to navigate my way to a bus that was taking me to the neighborhood where I would be living temporarily.  I knew I would be in for an adventure when I asked the first person I saw "where is the bus to Islington. I need to get to the Angel Station subway stop?"

 
    "Love, the queue is off to the right.  See where that bloke is with the fag and torch? Take the M50 gets you right to the tube"   Translation:  the line for the bus is off to the right where the guy with the cigarette and flashlight is standing and the M50 bus will take you to the subway station.   I immediately stepped off the curb, looked left only to be nearly run over by the car coming up on the right.  "What do you mean they drive on the other side of the road?" I asked the nice kid that yanked me out of danger.  I had a lot to learn.

    What is shocking to me now is that the program DID NOT PROVIDE HOUSING.  I would be set up in a CONVENT then needed to find my own place in the world.   Yep, I had to find an apartment, pay rent.  Rent?  I had no clue.  The convent, full on convent with nuns in habits, had a curfew and communal bathrooms and dining halls. 


    I showed up, met my roommate Patrice and buckled down for a year to be remembered.  And so much more that I couldn't even have dreamt of.  Living in flats, hanging with Punks, seeing bands in their infancy, falling in love, green hair and safety pins. 

    More London calling in a future post!


Monday, July 9, 2018

Thank you Mom & Mrs. Wu

     As I was working on a custom art piece, the client said "how did you learn how to do this stuff"?  I have never taken an art class (I went to Catholic school so I'm well versed in Latin, typing and shorthand -- so useful).  It got me to thinking and reminiscing.

    When I was young, my Mother made all my clothes and most of hers.  One of our mutual favorites was the flower girl dress she made for me when I was in my Aunt's wedding.  But I also remember complaining ALOT.....I just wanted to go to The Gap and I hassled my Mother.   "But the crotch is too low and itchy."  "The cool girls aren't wearing this."  I guess a typical pre-tween delight.

    But when I think back, I remember just the two of us going to the local Singer sewing/fabric store.  I was fascinated by the rows of color -- still gets me today. 

My Mom would then sit at a desk with a huge book of patterns and write down the numbers she wanted.  My job was to take those numbers to the huge drawers and pick the patterns out.

    I was always a huge disappointment in the math department and I was impressed with her calculations....knowing the exact yardage, how many zippers and what size, buttons, threads and bobbins.  She would then lay out this glorious delicate paper on top of the fabric and cut and pin away.  I was allowed to try it myself.  ONCE.  I almost cut right through the shag carpet.



   I don't recall ever thanking her.  For giving me a love of color and for creating.  The pants were definitely itchy but nothing as uncomfortable as those Sergio Valente  "designer" jeans and Dr. Scholls (which killed if your foot went over that edge) that I evolved to.

 
    So thank you Mom for giving me an appreciation of handmade, especially when done with love.

   I was lucky to grow up on a block filled with amazing families.  All the kids played for hours:  coloring, Barbies, SPUD, WAR, Red Light Green Light and riding bikes. 
     All our Mothers got together for a weekly card game.  They would switch off houses and I remember lots of jello molds, cocktails and smoking.  Seemed so glamorous.  So many of my childhood friend's Moms have passed away so this visual memory is always bittersweet.

    One of the Moms was Mrs. Wu.  Mrs Wu, her husband and two sons were my first experience of a diverse world.  She always wore her hair in a messy bun before it was "a thing".  She baked almond cookies, had beautiful Asian art and fabric in her home. 
   
     I remember going to her younger son's baptism in Chinatown in NYC.  The traditional clothing, the unusual food was something I will never forget.  The full pig on the main table however I choose to gloss over.

    Mrs. Wu was also crafty.  I'm not sure how it started, but all the kids would assemble at her home and she would teach us a different craft each time.  As an adult I can't even imagine the patience this required.  And I'm sure we were messy.

   One project was cutting out a pattern and sewing a simple A line skirt.  With an elastic waist.  Not the most flattering but I remember being so excited that I made something myself. My hem was not exactly straight....it was a "high/low" skirt before they also became a thing.


    We also made wire rings and bracelets.  The local candy store, Bambis...had rows of beads in tubes and I remember saving up my allowance and we would pick out the colors.


    Sand art....well not everything can be perfectly done.
     Just as I finished my project, I happened to knock my bottle off the table and all my effort became a technicolor beach all over her back porch.  And what Mrs. Wu said that day left my memory while I was busy going to college, getting married, having a crazy career and raising my son:  "Not to worry...this just gives you a chance to create something new and even more remarkable".  I wish I had remembered her wisdom at other points in my life.   Everything became SO serious with this adulting thing.

    I still have the original embroidery pieces I created under her tutelage.  While purging my studio, I found them in a long forgotten box.  They now hang on the wall.



   So thank you Mrs. Wu....for sparking a creative gene that is in full bloom now.  And for planting the thought that nothing is a mistake....just a chance to do something differently and become even more remarkable.   I was lucky to have known you.