No Home Phone

Starting this week, for the first time in my life, I will be without something that I never thought I could live without. My wife and I will be cutting the cord and getting rid of our home phone. Maybe at some point when I was very young, we didn’t have a phone, but as far back as I can remember it’s always been there. I can still remember the phone number I had growing up, even though no one in my family has used it in over twenty five years!

Thinking back, it’s like a trip down memory lane, a trip back to a much simpler time. In the old days, there were no cell phones, so you had to have a home phone. Oh, by the way, there was only one Phone Company back then, so you got what they offered and you paid what they told you. There weren’t any cool, sleek phones, just a few different colors. It hung on the wall and you had to dial the numbers on a rotary dial. Remember how long it took to do a 9 or a 0?

There was also no call waiting, so if you called someone and they were on the phone, you got a busy signal. I can tell you it was totally annoying when my friend, Bruce, would ask me to eat dinner at his house and when I tried to call my Mom, the phone was busy – forever! Okay, in all fairness, it was probably only 10 – 15 minutes, but it felt like forever when the food was almost ready and his Mom had already set a place for me at the table.

Which reminds me; we had a 15-minute limit on phone calls. With six of us living at home and everybody wanting to use the phone (except Dad, he really wasn’t much of a phone talker), there had to be some kind of rules. So my parents instituted an unofficial 15-minute time limit. I say unofficial because if no one else wanted to use the phone or no one was expecting a call, you could stay on longer. However, most nights the phone was in use from 7:00 to 10:00. I think we even had another rule that there were no phone calls after 10:00.

The cool thing about our old, on-the-wall phone was that the cord was extra long, so we could go out into the garage and talk in privacy. It really was not fun to be talking to a girl and have my older brothers making kissing noises or repeating what I said in a mocking tone. When my time was up, I’d get the “Say goodnight to Snooky Wookums” thing, or something similarly embarrassing, and they’d wait right there in front of me until I hung up. It’s probably those times (or because I’m like my Dad in some ways) that I really don’t like to talk on the phone today!

Another great memory I have is Mom sitting there doodling away while she was talking on the phone. She’d get on the phone, take a piece of paper or something from the mail, grab a pen, and start drawing. A little while later, she’d have the whole thing filled with designs and patterns. I thought, and still think, that her doodles were pretty cool. It appears she did get some of her mother’s artistic ability after all.

Saying goodbye is usually not easy, and this does feel kind of strange. However, the only calls we get on the home phone these days are telemarketers. Pretty much everybody else calls our cell phone or texts us. So even though there hasn’t been a cord for many years, we’re cutting the metaphorical cord and doing away with the home phone. Goodbye, and thanks for the memories.

Back From Vacation

I was on vacation last week with some of my wife’s family and they have younger children in the 6 – 9 years old range. It’s been a while since I’ve had to deal with kids that age, as my kids are now 17 and 20. It didn’t take me long to realize there are some major differences between my kids and the others.

The first difference was being woken up by kids at 6:00 in the morning. At that early hour, they are up and ready to go. You’re still sleeping? Not for long! They tried to stay quiet, but after about ten minutes of progressively louder whispering they started talking in their regular, middle-of-the-day voices. They obviously didn’t get the memo that it is alright to sleep past the normal time they get up for school. I usually get up at 6:00 AM for work, but I’d be very content to sleep past that time for a week or two. So I lose a few hours of the day by sleeping in, but who cares? I mean, it’s VACATION! My son could sleep until 10:00 or 11:00 (maybe even noon) and not feel bad about it. Of course, he’s not going to bed at 8:00 – 9:00 PM either, so I guess there is a tradeoff there.

The next difference is that younger kids go in and out of the house about a thousand times a day. And they slam the door every time! Not long after eating breakfast they are out to ride their bikes (slam!). After a few minutes one of them needs a drink of water, so he or she comes back in (slam!). Guzzle down that water and it’s time to get back outside like there’s a 30-second time limit on the break (slam!). Then someone realizes that someone else just went in for water, so they come in to get a drink, too (slam!). Repeat this process for every kid (slam!) multiple times (slam, slam, slam!) and…well, you get the picture. My kids either stay in the house, or when they go out there’s a quiet click as the door closes and we don’t see them or hear them for two or three hours. When they come back they quietly close the door. Ah, that’s nice.

The last difference is that younger kids get bored during the day. What? Bored? Did I mention that it’s VACATION? I guess that having fun for hours at a time gets old pretty quick for younger kids. You can only ride your bike, play games, watch movies, go to the beach and goof around for so long, and then it gets monotonous. Throw in breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks in between, and it seems like a pretty good day to me. I have a remedy for the boredom: sleep later and there won’t be as many hours to fill! That would take care of a couple of issues at the same time. We’d all be able to sleep later and the kids wouldn’t be so bored.

Now I don’t want it to sound like it was all bad or negative, because it wasn’t. It was actually a really great week. I had fun with the kids at the beach and I love to listen to them as they tell me about things from their perspective.  I got to spend some time with both my own kids, which doesn’t happen as much as I’d like these days. I got to spend some time with my in-laws, both of whom are kind, generous and entertaining. Last, but not least important, my wife and I got to spend a lot of time together, without the usual stuff that gets in the way at home, like work and schedules. You can’t beat that.

The week flew by and it wasn’t long before I was back to the real world. It’s at times like those that I sometimes wish I was still a kid, where vacation is not just a week or two, but the whole summer, and where I’d have so much time in the day to do whatever I wanted that I’d get bored. I’d just have to remember to close the door quietly on my way out.

Home Alone

My wife, my daughter and my son were all out of town the week before last, but I had to stay home because I couldn’t get the time off from work because of a major project we’re working on. There are times I enjoy having the house to myself because sometimes I just want a little peace and quiet. I can sit and read a book without being interrupted or having to switch rooms because someone wants to do something in that room that is noisy. There’s nobody there to ask me to do something for them, whether it’s driving someone somewhere or helping move something or helping cook something. I don’t have to do anything for anybody and I can just relax and take it easy. I know that sounds a little selfish but, like a lot of other people I know, I really don’t get a whole lot of down time so it is nice when I do.

I knew I would have to work some extra hours, so I thought it really wouldn’t matter that much that no one else was home. I’d go to work, come home and eat dinner, and then I’d do some more work until it was time for bed. I had dinner planned out for a couple of nights by just eating some leftovers, and I figured I could eat some food at work on Thursday because we have a “Happy Hour” where there is always some kind of food (pizza, a bunch of appetizers, pasta or Chinese food) and multiple beverages. In addition to all that, I had a company party on Saturday afternoon/night where all the food you needed was provided. That covered more than half the nights I would be responsible for my own dinner, so I knew I wouldn’t starve.

The first couple of days went OK and things seemed to be going along well. Two days had flown by pretty quick. As mentioned previously, I was working some extra hours due to a deadline, so it was work, eat dinner, work, and go to bed. Surprisingly, when I woke up on Friday morning it all sort of hit me: I’d been alone all week, the weekend was upon me and I was still going to be alone until late Sunday. I’ve heard of people who love the single life, being on their own, and doing what they want, but I guess I’m not one of them. I hate being alone for more than a couple of days.

In a previous post, I mentioned how much I hated how quiet it was when everyone but my younger brother and I had moved out and we were the only kids left with Mom and Dad. This was even worse, because when I woke up no one was in the house and when I came home no one was in the house. It was just so…empty. Even though I was seeing people at work every day, not seeing my wife and kids made feel extremely lonely. And even though I was speaking to my wife on the phone or by text, it just was not the same. The last couple of days seemed to stretch out forever.  

Though this seems like it was all doom and gloom, something very positive did come out of my week alone. It helped me to remember how much I love my family and how much I love to be with them, both the kids and my wife. My wife is my best friend, and there is no one else I’d rather spend time with. The day she came home just happened to be our 23^rd anniversary, so to say I was happy to see her would be a huge understatement. My parents were married for more than 50 years when my Dad passed away and I look forward to my wife and me reaching that milestone. Spending the week alone gave me a glimpse into what my life would be by myself and it wasn’t good. A little down time and some peace and quiet is good for a day or two, but I really hate being alone for much longer. I’ll take the noise, the driving, and the errands and, most importantly, my family over an empty house any day.

Poor Starving Kids

Another post in a series on Famous Family Sayings

Sometimes you make a meal and it just doesn’t turn out how you thought it would. There have been times my wife and I made something that sounded great, but the outcome didn’t match the expectations. We made Thai food once and it was good, but we thought we’d change a few things and it would be better. Unfortunately, it wasn’t, nobody really liked it and we threw most of it away.

There are times my kids don’t really want what we’re having for dinner. When they were younger, they had to have at least a little of everything, otherwise they would have lived on Mac and Cheese, chicken nuggets, peanut butter sandwiches and Cheerios. We didn’t guilt them out over not eating a lot of the food; we just told them that there was no dessert if they didn’t eat the spoonful of whatever we put on their plates. Seriously, one spoonful of green beans is not a lot, especially if dessert is on the line. Now that they’re teenagers, if they don’t like what we’re having for dinner, they can make something for themselves. They’re fully capable of cooking for themselves without burning down the house.

When I was a kid, there were a few meals that I just didn’t like and did what I could to get out of eating. My all-time least favorite meal was liver and onions. I guess it was one of my father’s favorites, so even though we only had it every once in a while, it was too often. I’d complain that it was too dry and I couldn’t chew it. Mom would say to cut it into smaller pieces. I’d complain that I didn’t like the taste of it. Mom would say it tastes just like steak if you put ketchup on it. I’d complain that I didn’t like the way it looked, or smelled… or something. Mom would say to mix it in with my mashed potatoes. If any of us complained too long or too loud, she brought out the line that told us the complaining was over: “There are starving kids in Biafra who would love to have what you’re having!”

Biafra? I had never heard of Biafra, except from Mom. I used to think, “Wait a second, is that even a real place?” Usually, one of us would say, “There’s no such place as Bee-afra.” Sometimes, one of us would get bold and would even dare to say, “Then send it to them!” To which the reply was usually something to the effect of “Be quiet, be thankful you have food to eat and eat your supper.” And that was the end of that.

Much to my surprise, I found out years later that Biafra really did exist, at least for a little while. I also found out that a lot of people my age got the “There are starving people in…” line from their parents. For some, it was China, or Africa, or Cambodia. One or two even got Biafra, so my mother wasn’t alone. All of us had the same kind of (mostly) silent reaction, which was to send whatever meal it was to those people and let us have something we like.

As I got a little older, I often wondered what mothers in other countries told their kids. Did they have the same set of poor starving countries, or did they have a different set? Maybe kids in England heard about poor starving kids in India; kids in France heard about poor starving kids in Bangladesh; kids in Switzerland or Sweden heard about poor starving kids in Russia. Who knows, maybe kids in Russia heard about poor starving kids in America as a propaganda tool. Wherever you grew up, there were always poor starving kids somewhere else who would just love to eat what you were having for dinner – without complaining.

But I think that was a lie. Maybe we should have sent those meals to poorer countries and just watched what happened. I can just picture those poor kids having to eat liver and onions three or four times a week from all the American kids who didn’t like it, maybe with beets or brussel sprouts. I can just hear the kids saying, “NOT LIVER AND ONIONS AGAIN! I’m NOT eating that. It’s DISGUSTING! And these beets look like hardened BLOOD!” Their Mom would look at them with that hurt face and say, “There are nice people in America who sacrificed to send that to us. You’ll eat it and you’ll LIKE IT! Now put some ketchup on it, if you don’t like the taste. Then you’ll know what steak tastes like!”

If they had to choose between liver and onions or going to bed hungry, I’d put my money on them going to bed hungry. I would have if I had the choice, but I didn’t, and that’s probably why I still don’t eat liver, with or without onions. I’d rather eat a peanut butter sandwich. That way I could still have dessert.

Take All You Want, But Eat All You Take

First in an occasional series on Famous Family Sayings

I’ve noticed lately that I don’t each as much as I used to. Maybe it’s because I subconsciously hear some of the words from the Pink Floyd song “Dogs”: And it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around. Or maybe it’s because things just don’t taste the same to me anymore. A lot of food just tastes bland to me. Can you lose taste buds as you get older? I don’t know, but it seems like I am. The other night we had something with dinner and my wife and son both said it tasted very salty. However, to me it didn’t taste salty at all. Not a bit, which is kind of scary.

Or maybe it’s because as a kid I had it drilled into my head to “Take all you want, but eat all you take.” That was a phrase we heard a lot at my house growing up. My parents hated to waste food. Heck, when you’re paying as much as they did for food every week for nine kids, you don’t want to be throwing it away. So they had a rule: you can take as much food as you wanted, but you had to eat it all. If you asked how much spaghetti you could take, the answer was “Take all you want, but eat all you take.” If you asked if you could have two burgers, the answer was “Take all you want, but eat all you take.” If you asked how many cookies you could have, the answer was “Three.” As much as we tried, the cookie answer was never “Take all you want, but eat all you take.” Nor was it for M&M’s, brownies or ice cream. It was for liver and onions, but we never took Mom and Dad up on that one. 

Seems pretty simple, but in the competitive world of dinner time in a large family it wasn’t as cut and dry as you’d think. If you took only a small amount of food to make sure you could eat it all, when you went back for more there might not be any left. Mom usually made enough for everyone plus a little more, but there were times there was just enough for everybody. If you went conservative, someone else could take the rest of what you should have taken the first time. If you took a large portion to make sure you got your share and couldn’t finish it, somehow Dad always knew. Even if you tried to cover it up or rush past him to get the dishes to the sink, he knew. On those occasions you’d get the corollary to “Take all you want, but eat all you take.” That is, “Your eyes were bigger than your stomach.”

When one of my parents said it, I would always picture my face with these huge eyes that took up my whole face, alien like. Knowing my younger self, I probably went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, just to make sure I didn’t have crazy eyes. We didn’t get punished for taking too much; Dad just let us know that it was not alright. There was something about disappointing him that made me not take too much. Which is why if “Your eyes were bigger than your stomach.” was a sarcastic comment from one of my siblings, it was like rubbing salt in the wound. I not only felt like I disappointed my parents, I had to take a ribbing on top of it.

As for eating today I take all I want, but I do eat all I take. Like my parents, I don’t like to waste food either. Food costs way too much today to throw it away. Besides, every time I look in the mirror these days, I can see that there’s absolutely no possible way that my eyes could be bigger than my stomach.  

My Birthday

My birthday was last week and it was quite a drop off from last year. Before I go any further, let me say that this is not a criticism of anyone, especially my wife and kids. Last year was my 50^th so we had a party at my house with family and friends, and it was awesome. For those without math skills, this year was my 51^st. Go to any card store and I can guarantee that there aren’t any “Happy 51^st Birthday” cards. So, it was kind of a non-event compared to last year.

It’s kind of strange how we do that with birthdays. There are Sweet 16 parties, usually for girls, but nothing for 17. Have the girls gone from sweet to bitter in just one year? That would be terrible if someone did. Then when someone turns 18, the birthday is a big deal again, probably because kids graduate high school and we see that age as when someone becomes an adult. Then comes 19 and nothing, you’re just a year older. Maybe it’s just the even years that count for something, so you’d think 20 would be a big deal, but it’s not. Ah, but 21 is a big year because then you can legally buy and drink alcohol. Then nothing for the next few years until you get to 25, which is usually a big one. I don’t know if it’s because you’re a quarter of a century old or because many young people start thinking they’re getting old. Some day they’ll look back at that and realize how silly their thinking was.  

After that we celebrate 30, then 40, then 50. Nothing in between those years matters, they’re just numbers. Go to any party store and try to find a “Happy 34^th Birthday!” banner. There aren’t any, but there’ll be one for 30 and 40. Maybe it’s our young-is-good-old-is-bad culture that says anyone over 30 is old that makes us stop celebrating the years in between the nice round numbers. Not to mention there’s always one wise guy who gives you the “over the hill” birthday card when you’re 35, as if you’ve seen your best days. To have seen your best days at 35, now that would be terrible.

When I was growing up, we didn’t do a lot for birthdays. We got a card, a cake and everyone sang “Happy Birthday”. I’m not complaining. We had at least six kids at home as far back as I can remember and couldn’t afford to invite our friends over and have big parties like some of my friends did. Besides, I’ve never been one to refuse a homemade chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and a little bit of ice cream on the side. Yum!

One of my friends took about ten of us mini golfing one year for his birthday, to go along with his cake and ice cream. I found out that day that cake and ice cream do not go well with golf clubs on a warm June day. The next year, he took me and a couple other friends to a Red Sox game! No cake and no ice cream, but plenty of hot dogs, soda and popcorn - and no, we did not have peanuts and Cracker Jack. As a side note, I still have the program from that game in my memorabilia pile.

I think that we should make a big deal out of every birthday we have, especially as we get “older”. Statistically speaking, you have a bigger chance of not making your next birthday as you get older, so why not celebrate every one of them? Not to sound morbid, but you just never know which one could be your last. My son, who turned 16 a month ago, told me that one of his classmates, whom he’s known since elementary school, has cancer. My wife’s uncle died not long after his 40th birthday. My grandmother lived to 98! You just never know.

Overall, I did have a great birthday this year, even though there wasn’t a big party. I relaxed, I watched the home team win their hockey game, I got a bunch of birthday wishes on Facebook and I got some phone calls and emails from family. But the best part of my day, heck the whole weekend, was spending time with my wife and kids. We went out to dinner and talked and had fun. After dinner we went back to the house and watched Get Smart and laughed some more. That is what I’ll remember about my 51^st birthday; the time I got to spend with the people I love the most – my family.

And starting now, I’m going to make sure that I make a big deal out of everyone’s birthday, including my own, no matter what number it is.