Goodnight Yankee Stadium, and Goodbye

It ain't over til it's over . . .and now it is.

Last night I watched part of the final Yankee game to ever be played at the great Yankee Stadium. Ruth's 92 year old daughter threw out the first pitch, all the Yankee greats were there, and the original 1922 Championship banner flew in the outfield.

It is/was the Cathedral of Baseball. The two pretenders to the throne (Fenway and Wrigley) have the charm that the current 'mod-retro' style emphasizes, but as Derk Jeter said last night, it's not about the building. It's about the memories.

In it's 85 years of existence it's given the world Babe Ruth, Joe Dimaggio, Mickey Mantle, Reggie Jackson, Derek Jeter and a record 26 World Championships. Hate the Yankees all you want, but take those memories away and you take away the heart and soul of the game we love.

I'll admit to a sense of sadness as the last out was recorded. Then, after a few minutes of nostalgic celebration on the field, which included the sight of multi-millionaire players scooping dirt into their pockets as mementos, Derek Jeter took the microphone on the mound.

"For all of us up here, it's a huge honor to put this uniform on every day and come out here and play," he said. "And every member of this organization, past and present, has been calling this place home for 85 years. There's a lot of tradition, a lot of history, and a lot of memories. Now the great thing about memories is you're able to pass it along from generation to generation. And although things are going to change next year, we're going to move across the street, there are a few things with the New York Yankees that never change -- it's pride, it's tradition, and most of all, we have the greatest fans in the world.

"We're relying on you to take the memories from thisstadium and add them to the new memories that come to the new Yankee Stadium, and continue to pass them on from generation to generation. On behalf of this entire organization, we want to take this moment to salute you, the greatest fans in the world."

And then as a group the New York Yankee players doffed their caps to the crowd in salute and circled the ballpark, giving their fans a much deserved 'thank-you'. It was very moving.

"Are you crying?" Lisa asked me.

"A little," I said, dabbing at both my eyes.

"You're allowed to cry. I understand how you feel," she said. smiling. "But you didn't cry at our wedding, you didn't cry at your children's births. Hell, you didn't cry when your only son was born. But I've seen you cry a half-dozen times over baseball. It's crazy."

"That's different," I said. "This is baseball. This is important."

At 4 a.m. Yankee staff was still on the field, playing catch, drinking beer, and saying goodbye to the stadium.

In the background a picture of a winking Babe Ruth was on the Jumbotron  with the words "See you across the street!" advertising a new era.

May it be as successful as the first.

Tags: blogplugs, New York, Yankees, Derek Jeter, Babe Ruth

On bikes and hospitals and sassy little kids

Today was the first day in quite awhile I've been on my bike. It was out of action for a few days because of heavy rain and when I brought it back out of the Wacky Shack I found I'd ruined the back tire by running over some glass. Cue a  stay at the bike shop, where as Dork among Dorks I also bought a nifty collapsible basket :)

Anyway, I had a nice 20 minute ride with YaYa. We even stopped and shagged balls at a local baseball practice along the way. The bike shop adjusted my seat so high I no longer have to wonder what a colonostomy feels like, but it was a godsend to finally get some exercise into my schedule.

You see, yesterday night my Mom was taken by ambulance to the hospital, where she was admitted with blood pressure of 180 over ?, a 102 degree temp, and badly swollen legs that were leaking water.

I love the woman dearly, but if you don't decide to just get up and move God's gonna make your decision permanent. Her hospitalization, which may turn into yet another stay at an extended care facility,was another little 'push' to keep up my diet and exercise plan.

That plan has only been 40% on schedule the last week or so, thanks to that Olive Garden trip. I can safely ignore temptation, so long as I'm not given a taste.  No 'one drag of a cigarette' or 'just a slice of pizza' or 'only an hour with the transvestite' - no, for me that way leads to the Dark Side.

So for the foreseeable future it's ixnay on the Italian food, that's for sure.

* * * *

Quote of the Day, and coincidentally on the subject:

Completely in jest as we horsed around outside.

Me: You be quiet you Punky Brewster or I'll break ya in two!

LuLu (laughing): No you won't! I have bones!

Me: I can do it. I'm strong!

LuLu: [snickered] How? You barely even work out!

Tags: blogplugs

Wanted: Tickets to the (Iowa) Winter Dance Party Feb '09

I've written about it here before. Since 1987 I've wanted to spend the 50th anniversary of Buddy Holly's death in Clear Lake, Iowa, the site of his fatal plane crash. Don't ask me why a 13 year old kid thought like that, but I did.

I went to buy tickets to the events as early as last year, and time and again was told nothing was set in stone yet. I checked the website for the Surf Ballroom, the host of the event, over and over. Nothing. I skip a few weeks, go back to check yesterday, and boom! the 50th Winter Dance Party was online.

And sold out.

I called the Ballroom today and found out there is a seperate event for that night, and I was placed on the notification list for that. I called the Chamber of Commerce, and they stated the only Buddy Holly events would be at the Surf.

So I'm probably screwed.

I've already hit Ebay and I've posted on Craigslist in Iowa, BUT . . if anyone in JLand lives in Iowa and has a spare ticket, or works in the music business, knows the owner of the Surf or whatever, PLEASE PLEASE let me know.

Backup plan: Lisa and I will go to the Tommy Allsup (sp?) concert at  Milwaukee's Eagle Ballroom on Jan 23rd. That'll be the 50th anniversary of a Buddy Holly concert on that very stage. [Tommy was in Buddy's band on that fateful tour.]

Then I'm thinking we could still, maybe, head out to Iowa and tour the Surf, which is considered a museum of rock 'n roll. Then in the cold of night we could mark the annivesary by making our way to the cornfield outside of town where the plane crashed..

I"m keeping my fingers crossed.

Tags: Buddy Holly, Iowa

The Wacky Shack

I may not have taken money for hosting my sisters kids, but that doesn't mean the buggers got away scott free. I made 'em work by golly.

My shed had stood 3/4ths done for nearly a year. This failure prevented me from storing bikes/tools/mowers in it, items which by default wound up on my cellar steps. That blocked me from using those steps, which meant I couldn't move my Mom's freezer into my basement or move some items out to make room for it . .

It was all such a vicious cycle.

So for whatever reason I chose Saturday the 6th to hammer away at the project. With the help of my nephew I created two wooden doors for the shed and installed a lock. The doors were mildly Polish in construction but met the need. (hey hey - I'm 100% Polish. I'm allowed to jest)

That was an enormous task for the handiness challenged yours truly, but with fire in my belly I pressed on. We papered the roof of the shed and began to shingle it. I had never shingled a roof before, nor ever seen it done. Suprisingly, I think we did it right.

[one manly point in my favor: my nephew had constant problems hammering in the roofing nails. I'd look on with distaste, sigh, and then hammer them home in one smooth stroke. I guarantee you I've never been able to do that before, so nice timing God.]

Lu actually helped out quite a bit by handing up shingles. The little munchkin could manage to haul two or three at a time, which was quite impressive given their weight.

Meanwhile YaYa just hung around

(sorry for the hip-hop look in the above photo)

Danged if we didn't finish the shed, once and for all. This was, oh man, this was the Slapinions equivalent of someone finally finishing the Crazy Horse sculpture in South Dakota. It was THAT monumental to me.

Well, we weren't quite finished. The next day we primed and painted it.

* * *

Going back to the 6th for a second. It was a *great* day. Not only because of the shed, but because I finalized a huge account that day. It began with a call, out of the blue, from a competitor who could no longer satisfy a client and wanted to toss the business our way. At  first she was hesitant to go with our price, but I called her back and made sure she knew I recognized the grandness of the favor and would repay it down the road. In other words, I was in her debt. 

So she put the word in for us and the clients rep came to meet with me. I toured with him and he seemed satisfied, but then he asked me for X and Y and Z . I was disheartened but answered honestly. Logistically and finanically I just couldn't meet his demands. I braced for the worst.

But whatdaya know, he liked that. Part of the reason they were jumping ship was that they'd been promised the moon and been let down. He said he prefered to hear a 'no' then to deal with that situation again. That was Thursday.

Midway through the shed project on Saturday my cellphone rang. We gotthe account!

It's a day in/day out struggle to keep a customer happy, especially one with as many personnel as this guy, and we're still ironing out the bumps. But if their business in Milwaukee remains constant and they continue to frequent us the account will be on pace to bring in revenue in the mid six figures by years end. I wouldn't bet the house on that happening, but it stands out there as a glorious opportunity on the horizon.

Knock on some serious wood.

I don't work on commision, so I won't see a dime. But those numbers mean I might be able to avoid pulling the trigger on the annual layoffs that seemed inevitable just a few weeks ago (or at least the worst of them).

So to celebrate I took the family - all nine of us at that point - out to Olive Garden the following weekend. The-single-most-expensive-dinner-of-my-life, thanks in part to my foolish 'get whatever you want!' comment to a growing 14 year old boy.

Ah, it was worth it. It's nice to have something to celebrate once in awhile. :)

LuLu's speech evaluation which, oddly, becomes a chance to brag about her :)

For some time Lisa has been trying  to get LuLu into a speech therapy program with MPS (Milwaukee Public Schools). Last week we finally had a one on one evaluation at a local school. Because we couldn't find a sitter for Lump or Smiley I took LuLu to the appointment.

I'm sure the tests were no different than any other speech test given to a five year old. Her hearing tested fine, and she did a heck of a job identifying and vocalizing every object in a shoebox of junk they handed her. She had trouble with the word 'string', pronouncing it 'sta-wing', and some issues with 's' and 'r' but otherwise held her own.

Good news/bad news: from a preliminary opinion the instructor didn't think she needed speech therapy and said she'd outgrow her problems. There's a strong history of speech problems from both sides of the family (and of course Smiley can't talk) so maybe we're just hypersensitive on the subject, but I disagreed.

If it's enough so that an adult has difficulty understanding her, or a kid makes fun of her for it, then it's bad enough to spend an hour or two a week fixing it. We'll know one way or the other midway through October.

From the certainly good news department: LuLu, who is 5 years 3 months old tested at a comprehension level of 6 years, 8 months with a vocabulary of a 6 year old. The teacher said she was the first five year old to correctly ID all the items in that box and in the pictures presented to her; at times her answers were too specific and had to be scaled back so she would verbalize the general word they were looking to hear.

Neat.

Tags: LuLu, speech

Smiley's first day of school and my nephew's too!

September 2nd was the first day of school for Smiley. It was also the first day of high school for my nephew. As you know, the kids were at my house that week so I took him to school. Yeah, he was nervous, but he seems to have adjusted well.

Wow, these kids look thrilled don't they?

Shall we try again?

Ah, the moody YaYa. Third times the charm?

Eh, better. Here's my nephew on that monumental first day of high shool. He ditched the bandana before I dropped him off.

And finally, here's the handsome and debonair Smiley on the first day of his second year of school (K3):

Tags: Smiley

The Gravestone of Franciszek Maczynski

Confession time: for years now I have been bothered by something I did on behalf of my Grandma and it's time to come clean.

Round about the turn of this century my Grandma became convinced that the gravestone of her brother would be stolen and sold for scrap. This was a  large metal cross that marked the grave of her six year old brother who'd passed in 1913, a full ten years before her birth. I'd gone with my Grandpa to paint and maintain it once upon a time and was very familiar with it.

There had been reports at the time of vandals hitting local cemeteries, but the more I talked to her the more I became convinced that this was largely a product of the paranoia that sometimes comes with age. [and possibly a result of the whispered suggestions of meddling family members.]

But it was upsetting her greatly, and she began to ask me to remove the marker before it came to harm. I refused, and refused, and refused. Finally one day a family member said my Grandma had told the cemetery she'd be replacing it with a common granite marker. I was again asked to remove it, and this time I agreed.

So in the middle of the day, in broad daylight, I attacked the cement anchor of the tombstone with a shovel and then pulled it out of the ground by myself. Looking back, I don't know how I managed. It was very heavy and still partially attached to the cement base. I was able to get it back to my car only with great difficulty.

Let me reiterate: everything was on the up and up. I'd been asked to remove it by one of the sole remaining relatives, allegedly with the approval of the cemetery office. The trouble is I didn't believe it. I was sure that my Grandma, all her wishes aside, was confused and had not/would not have been able to organize that effort. She was never senile, but she did have moments of time and areas of interest that were dominated by confusion and memory lapses.

It is a failing of my character that I did not have the stamina to brave the woman's tears and investigate her request.

Aside from that I am superstitious, and for years now whenever I drive by that cemetery I felt creeped out and wouldoften be filled with regret. Ok, let's be honest. Laugh if you will, but I've always felt it was a mark against my soul.

So when the family moved last month I came across the tombstone in the garage and my heart sank. An omen, to be sure. I could not let it slide any longer. I stopped helping my parents and with the help of my nephew loaded it into my car. [my memory of its weight was accurate. It was a bear.]

The cemetery office was closed that late on a Sunday. So my nephew and I carried it through the empty chill of the mausoleum and left it outside the office door with a note and my phone number.

It's now midway through the month so I called the office myself to see if it had been reinstalled. The office manager got on the phone and wasn't happy. Not for the reason you're thinking, however. No, she was annoyed that we'd returned it at all.

She clearly remembered speaking with my Grandma about removing the cross and (unofficially) agreed with her assessment of the risk if it had remained in the ground. To deter scrap metal collectors the cemetery had enacted a no-metal tombstone rule and her brother's grave was one of the few grandfathered markers that had survived.Of those remaining it was one of or the largest and well maintained - a perfect target. In fact I learned from the cemetary that the marker had been shipped in from Poland by my family and was deemed irreplaceable by the office.

{Time after time I find evidence that my Great-Grandparents appear better off financially then the generations that followed, despite being first generation Americans}

And so a tremendous burden was lifted, seemingly miraculously, in just a few minutes on the phone.

But by returning it we put her in a bind. It could not be put back, because by officially removing it it voided the grandfather-clause. And I was right about one thing. My Grandmother had either never made plans for a new marker or at least never followed through with a purchase. The grave has gone unmarked for the better part of a decade.

I asked about the price of a new marker, still feeling like I owed the kid a debt. If it could be classified as a child's grave, ~$550. But my great-grandparents had also pulled out all the stops to have him buried in the adult section of the cemetery, where the markers were more elaborate and better maintained. Thus the cheapest marker could be as high as ~$700. Again, it all depends on how the site would be re-classified.

If I go ahead with a new marker I'd obviously pass the hat around the family. It might be hard, given that he died 95 years ago and outside of his sole remaining sibling (now in his 90's and in a nursing home) few people have an emotional stake in the matter.

But like Lisa said when I told her later in the evening "We have to get a stone. It's not right to leave family in an unmarked grave." In the meantime the cemetary agreed to temporarily put a simple wooden cross on the gravesite.

Maybe by the spring this matter will - no pun intended - be put to rest once and for all.

Hit and Run by Lawrence Block - A review

                           

Lawrence Block's Hit and Run is the latest - and possibly final - work involving resident hitman and stamp collector John Keller. In his latest adventure Keller is lured west to complete a 'job' but told to cool his heels and wait for the go-ahead. When a prominent African-American politician is assassinated  it becomes clear Keller is the designated patsy. He hits the road in an effort to stay ahead of the law and even the score with the men who framed him.

If you go into this thinking it will be gloom and gore, ala Tarantino, think again. Block can do dark and heavy (the great Eight Million Ways to Die being an example) but at heart Block is a easygoing writer with more than a dash of humor and wit. Hit and Run is a brisk, easy read with a lighthearted air. Sure, Keller and company occasionally have to murder the odd gas station attendant or Jehovah's Witness, but that doesn't mean they can't have fun too.

I will say that the midpoint of the second act, when Keller finds love, seemed forced and rather predicable in the 'damsel in distress' mode. Other than that, and a relentless stream of trivia about stamps, I have no complaints. 

Will Keller be back? The end of this novel seems to shout 'no', but you never know.

If nothing else, there's always room for a prequel, right?

3.25 out of 5, 80 out of 100 

Tags: Lawrence Block, Keller

Fantasy Football - NFL Week 2

This was the first week of our fantasy football league, week one having passed us by because of the Thursday night game that preceded our draft.

I started Eli Manning over his brother, not fully believing Peyton had shaken off all the cobwebs. Good call that one. Not so my choice to start the San Diego defense, may their incompetent souls rot in hades.

Santana Moss gave me the only 'great' performance of the week and I needed it to even make the game a close one, since my running backs seemed to sleep through most of Sunday.

Going into the Monday night game I had a twelve point lead but my opponent, The Juicy Beavers, had Dallas' D on their active roster. [note: you'll note a trend among the names of many of the fantasy teams I play against. Don't blame me folks, I didn't pick 'em.]

I watched the Monday night game and did a victory dance once Philly passed 35 points. Our league uses negative points, and if a defense gives up that magic 35, see ya - automatic ten point deduction. The game was mine!

Except this morning I found out I lost by .23 points. Point two three points. At eight in the morning I called the Socialist, aka the Commish, to good naturedly(sp?) complain that I was slighted. No way, no way did the Dallas D rack up 12 points. They had only five sacks (1.5 points) a fumble recovery (three points) and one special teams TD (8 points). Subtract ten from that and you don't score twelve points, I know that much.

Twelve hours later he called me back. He had been confused too and questioned the total. It turns out a D is *not* penalized for any points scored directly off of turnovers. It makes a certain amount of sense, since the D isn't on the field to stop a safety from running in an interception, but it's still horse hockey. 

Sweet niblets, what does a man have to do to earn a win in this league?

Answer: I could try breaking the century  mark. That'd help. LOL.

Score Summary
SlapJacks	97.97
Juicy Beavers	98.20

 

 SlapJacks 0-1-0

vs. 

Juicy Beavers 1-0-0

				Points
Pos	Player	Opp	Status	Projected	Actual
QB	Eli Manning (NYG - QB)	@StL	W, 41-13	14.26	23.67
WR	Braylon Edwards (Cle - WR)	Pit	L, 10-6	12.18	3.20
WR	Hines Ward (Pit - WR)	@Cle	W, 10-6	12.90	13.90
WR	Santana Moss (Was - WR)	NO	W, 29-24	8.57	29.10
RB	Jamal Lewis (Cle - RB)	Pit	L, 10-6	12.45	6.60
RB	Fred Taylor (Jac - RB)	Buf	L, 20-16	12.34	5.40
TE	Alge Crumpler (Ten - TE)	@Cin	W, 24-7	4.69	1.60
K	Mason Crosby (GB - K)	@Det	W, 48-25	8.87	12.00
DEF	San Diego (SD - DEF)	@Den	L, 39-38	10.85	2.50
Total				97.11	97.97

				Points
Pos	Player	Opp	Status	Projected	Actual
QB	Drew Brees (NO - QB)	@Was	L, 29-24	14.72	9.10
WR	Reggie Wayne (Ind - WR)	@Min	W, 18-15	12.44	17.30
WR	Brandon Marshall (Den - WR)	SD	W, 39-38	10.96	26.60
WR	Roddy White (Atl - WR)	@TB	L, 24-9	8.46	6.10
RB	LaDainian Tomlinson (SD - RB)	@Den	L, 39-38	17.18	4.00
RB	Chris Johnson (Ten - RB)	@Cin	W, 24-7	12.38	12.10
TE	L.J. Smith (Phi - TE)	@Dal	L, 41-37	5.96	1.00
K	Matt Prater (Den - K)	SD	W, 39-38	7.83	10.00
DEF	Dallas (Dal - DEF)	Phi	W, 41-37	13.40	12.00
Total				103.33	98.20

Seven kids, four cats, a turtle . . .

When the house was sold my sister C had difficulty finding an apartment, only securing one with three or four days to spare. Unfortunately the landlord was in the midst of replacing the carpet, thinking the place would sit vacant another month, and couldn't get it ready in time. So on the day of the move her items went into the storage locker in that building, she went to crash at my Mom's new digs, and her three children came to stay with my family.

Through a series of delays and a variety of reasons they remained through this past Sunday the 14th. For fifteen days my household consisted of seven children, four cats (two of theirs), a turtle, three grasshoppers, a walking stick and a praying mantis.

Oh my.

Honestly, we adjusted very well. We quickly absorbed the kids and their routines into our daily life, and rather seamlessly too. Sure, we only Bernie Mac'd it for two plus weeks, but I think we could have pulled it off permanently if (God forbid!) we had to, and with aplomb to boot.

Every morning I'd roll out of the house at 7:10 with a full van, drop my nephew off at high school, swing by and drop my kids off at their school, head over to drop my nieces off at theirs, and then head over to work.

Lisa would pick up our kids after school and I'd pick up my nieces (my nephew took the bus back). Sometimes my niece would have volleyball practice and we'd head there, and on one occasion she had a school dance.

We'd have the kids sit down after school and complete their homework, then set to work on a decent dinner. Come nighttime my youngest niece would sleep on a foam couch in Lu's room, as would Lu herself, while niece KayKay grabbed her bed.

In Smiley's room the new twin bed we'd gotten him was now occupied by my nephew, while the toddler bed we were set to get rid of was put back into use for Smiley.

YaYa, being the prima donna she is, slept alone in her room.

They put a dent in my pocketbook as my grocery bill grew, but other than that it was fine. Oh YaYa went through a period of 'You love them better than me!" but that passed, and soon enough she was content with hanging out with her cousin.

Meanwhile Lu and KayKay bonded and Smiley became my nephews Number One fan. He should be; they are the only two males in the generation that includes not only our extended family but also our friend's children. X chromosomes appear to be in stark supply 'round here.

One great thing about having the kids here: it gave us a little wiggle room to 'go mobile'. Lisa's at work and I'm out of eggs? Egads! Oh, never mind. I'll have KayKay stay with the kids while I go. Lisa took my keys to work with her, stranding me? Pay no mind, I'll send J. on my bike to retrieve the keys!

{plus both of the older kids really like the New Kids new CD, with KayKay even using it for a class project. How cool is that?}

Following a long day we even took advantage of their presence to go visit the speciality drink bar I once wrote about here. It was met with their scorn mind you, as in my family letting a drop of alcohol pass your lips is just a notch below smoking crack in a synagogue, but whatever. They need to learn that responsible adult behavior is just that - adult, and responsible.

I was sad to see them go, I really was. Smiley seemed the most upset, but at his age he forgets quickly. 

At least now Lisa can't refuse to *ahem* becasue she's afraid they'll hear us ;)

Six Flags Great America

Around (on?) Lump's birthday Lisa took the family, minus yours truly and Lump herself, to Six Flags Great America in Gurnee. Our friend Chris and her kids also went along. 

I can't believe I lucked out and didn't have to go this year. I'll go on roller coasters but I don't enjoy them much, and the idea of a crowded park and lines stretching to eternity make me want to curl up in a ball and call for my Mommy.

Lisa, natch, loves roller coasters and theme parks, so the kids will never be short a volunteer chaperone.

The family loved the parade at the end of the day, were forced out of the waterpark area for an hour because of a 'Code Brown' (a fecal accident in the pool), and YaYa rode The Eagle, the old wooden roller coaster that's the park's oldest attraction, without blinking an eye. They returned home close to midnight.

A great day for everyone - including me :)

aoljurlAdd, aoljurlAdd_1

Ned Yost is Toast

After winning a lousy three games out of 14 midway through September and dragging a 5 1/2 game wildcard lead down to zero, the Brewers dismissed manager Ned Yost today. 

They appointed Dale Sveum as interim manager and I guess they also reassigned bench coach Ted Simmons. I disagree with that part of the deal and think Simmons should have got the nod.

It's an unusual move, firing a manager with twelve games left in the season while you're tied for a playoff spot. But while I've been a Yost-backer for years I have to say I agree with this decision. There's no excuse for their recent play, and small sample size be damned Yost has shown himself to be a manager that fails to 'close' the deal in the fall.

Am I alone in this viewpoint? Obviously not. At work this morning an employee was complaining about her husband's 'childish' reaction to the Brewers double-header loss yesterday. Her husband had boxed up his Brewers memorabilia and threatened to burn it in his backyard.

That's a little extreme, but I defended him. I'm sick and tired of the Brewers and this year in-year out pattern of F*ing with their fan's emotions. We are not Chicago or Boston. With all due respect to those fans I don't think this city can stomach celebrating a century of failure..

And people wonder why I like the Yankees. When they have one season, one season, where they don't play in October their fans act like the sky is falling. Good. It shows they care about winning.

Meanwhile, we have the sausage races.

Win the wildcard and visit the postseason, or for all I care they can pack up and go fill the void in Montreal. We'll still see baseball at Miler Park whenever weather screws up the schedule (a tip of the hat to Zambrano on the no-hitter against Houston here yesterday).

Bleeping Brewers.

* * *

BTW, congrats to my favorite player, Alex Rodriguez, for crossing the 100 RBI mark for yet another season. In 128 games, including some hindered by injury,  he's hit .307/34/100. Yikes, the guy can swing a bat.

Tags: Brewers

The Last Day at my Childhood Home

When I last talked about my parent's home I mentioned plans to have a last dinner together there with the family. If nothing else it was a very touching thought, as was my obsessive desire to have a final game of catch there with my Dad. Neither one took place.

As the 31st arrived I issued repeated but polite warnings that the move would be difficult. The family had been in the house for 50+ years and the last time my parents had moved was 30 years ago; my sister K had never moved. In contrast I'd moved four times in my first three years on my own, and another two times since then.

"We helped you move," they'd say to refute their lack of experience.As I'm sure you know, that's like saying you know what it's like to have kids because you used to babysit. 'tis not the same thing at all.

Come the 31st both my Dad and I had to work until 2pm, leading to a late start on the day. It was not until 3 that my Dad returned with a rented truck and the fun began.

Lisa loaded up our van repeatedly and took my sister C's items to her apartment, while my nephew and I unloaded an entire truck of furniture to my parent's new place after my Dad showed signs of fatigue. In the process I tore my shorts from belt to hem and was forced to ask passerby's for a safety pin. Finding help lacking, I tied an electrical cord around my leg to hold the garment together - at least until I felt the circulation stop ;)

By evening we were well behind schedule and more and more items appeared from corners unseen for years. This final truckload, compiled mainly of my sister K's items, was destined for storage. It was a decision I argued against (in my mind, paid storage is for the rich or the fool, and no one in between. It seems a worthless sap of resources best spent in the present)

My sister K quit on us early, saying an old injury was acting up. Instead she spent the night directing our efforts. Several times I good naturedly ribbed her about it, because I think the work just overwhelmed her, but to both our credit it did stay good natured, against our traditional yin and yang relationship.

On the other hand my meek and conciliatory sister C went off on me in a foul mouthed tirade. It was worth it for the entertainment value, like seeing a shy person sing karaoke when they're drunk. Priceless.

By ten o'clock I felt it was time to get my Mom moved to the new apartment and so began planning our exit. My sister C asked if I thought they could get more time from the new owners to finish the job. I shook my head. "This place is ours for two more hours only," I said. "When that clock strikes midnight, it's over."

Near the end my Dad pulled me aside and told me to take whatever tools I wanted. These were items handed down from my Great-Grandfather's on both sides. My Dad had hung onto them zealously, and I find it hard to put into words the emotions that ran through me when he made that offer. It was  . . well, it felt like the most sincere 'Love you' I'd heard from him in a long time.

[not that we don't have a good relationship, but most days the man talks less than Smiley]

When I was in the attic a wave of nostaligia took over me. I remembered cleaning the attic with my Dad one night, the radio barking out the play by play of a Big Mac at-bat at the All-Star game. I looked around and realized the new owners had had the roof redone; the wood I was looking at would no doubt stick around for decades to come.

So I left my mark behind.

I began to take my Mother out of the house. "Say goodbye to the house Mom," I said.

"Goodbye house," she said, and I cracked up.

"What?" she said smiling.

"Nothing, nothing. I just didn't expect you to be so literal," I said.

I got her in my van and went back for something or another. My last sight of the house (in our family's possesion) was of a brightly lit downstairs and my Dad sitting on the concrete steps outside.

And then I got in my van and drove away.

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