Snow Day! 1966

"I remember..."  

Ahhhh. what a great way to start a poem, short story, or a post dinner time with wine/beer and friends.  The fact that I am older and the older memories come easier than the ones from last week make these stories more interesting (for me at least!)  Here's one that may start a chain on the Big Board during these first snowy days of Winter 2015-16:

Back in high school, Springfield High School, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, (year? - 1966) when we were at that perfect age of 17-18, we couldn't wait for the snow to cancel school.  Especially on a Friday!  FOUR of us would get into Bob Fazzzina's VW bug and drive over to a certain package store where we would easily bribe a certain favorite adult to buy us beer.  With a full case of Budweiser or Schmidts we would then go out and patrol for drivers stuck in the snow.  When we found them we would all jump out of the car and bodily lift or push them and their car out of the drift or snowbank.  There were several different results:

1. They would open their window and thank us profusely, sometimes with cash,
2. They would stop the car, get out and thank us,
3. They would spin their wheels, covering us with snow and slush and just drive off!

Hoping for the first option, we would then go buy more beer and continue our good samaritan adventures. All of this took place in small towns just North of Philadelphia like Flourtown, Oreland, Erdenheim, Wyndmoor, and Chestnut Hill (these were the big tippers)

When Bob's VW got stuck, the four of us could easily lift it up and push it forward.  Remember the bumpers?  Perfect handles!

If we couldn't find anyone, two guys would hang on to the rear bumpers and Bob would take off and drag us around until someone fell off.  Great times to remember!

Tom C - Lincolnville Beach, Maine - 12/30/15

 (time to go out and snow-blow the driveway...soon)

"Gloria"_a true story - Hunger in Maine is real

Gloria

Her cart was empty

No food this week

Hannafords lights were  on

She was one of the meek.

Swallowing pride

Tasted bitter, again

Nothing else in her stomach

Help may come, but when?

She had just one number

To call if she needed

Alex answered the first time

Cries for help always heeded.

“I need food” she mumbled

“OK, tell me where”

“Hannaford’s, Camden”

“I’m in Searsport. Stay there”

“Wait, the Food Pantry is near

Can you get there soon?”

“I can walk and I will

Meet you there by the moon”

When they got there

They saw she had just a cart.

Homeless in Camden?

It broke Tatum’s heart.

Alex and Tatum took Gloria

And her cart

To the Food Pantry near

To give her a start.

Hospitality House said

“Bring Gloria here,

We can help her a lot

She has nothing to fear”

They took Gloria in

The Pantry stocked her with food

Alex and Tatum

Felt pretty good.

The next day the phone rang

“Gloria’s gone”

Alex was shocked

What could have gone wrong?

He left her with food

They took her to a hotel

“She was fine when we left her

I think all went well.”

Gloria left her small cart behind

She walked off that same evening

Last words:

“Everything’s fine”

Maine is a place

Where everywhere is home

We are proud of that view

We take care of our own.

But Gloria slipped

Through a small crack in time

Now we worry about

Who else we left behind…

The only solution

Is biblical and true:

Take care of each other

The other could be you.

Tom Crowley – 12/18/15

Based on the true experience of three people who met by chance and were forever changed. 

My plan is to turn this into a one-act play to be performed by students at our local high school

in the Fall of 2016 to raise awareness and funds to help fight hunger in Maine.

Key Number 45

I found a key in my drawer.  It was attached to a green plastic keytag thing with a clear window on a key chain. The tag read "45"...That's all. There were 7 or 8 other keys there too.  KRYPTONITE, MASTER, YAKIMA, EXCEL, but I knew what they were all for.  But what about Key # 45?

Where did it belong? What does it unlock?  It says STEEL PRO on it. Naturally I GOOGLED "STEEL PRO" and got something strange and scary:

Steel-Pro is a custom manufacturer of ASME pressure vessels, biopharmaceutical equipment, modular skids, vacuum chambers, storage tanks and other custom designed equipment and stainless steel applications. Industries served include biopharmaceutical, semiconductor, alternative energy, power generation, and other industrial applications.

Steel-Pro’s clients consist of well-established and industry leading firms that require exceptional precision and quality engineered components delivered on time and at competitive prices.

WTF?  I do not remember having anything like this!  Vacuum chambers, storage tanks, ASME pressure vessels, ?  These applications were foreign to me, too.  I know, I will ask my wife, Lucy, she remembers everything.

"Lucy!  what is this key number 45 with STEEL PRO on it for?"
Silence.
"Lucy?"
Nothing. Where is she now?  I guess I will go and find her.

Locking the basement door, for safety first, I went upstairs to our bedroom, calling out her name as I climbed the stairs;
"Lucy!!! Where are you?

Nothing. total silence. Then, a muffled sound like something under water,  then, a scratching sound and a whimper.  WTF?

I went into the bedroom. Bed was made, clothes put away. Silent order.  No light shone through frosted windowpanes, covered with dark pull-down shades.  I looked towards the closet.  Padlock was in place, combination lock intact.  Quiet inside when I pressed my ear to the door.  As I moved away from the closet I noticed something in the corner of my eye. Blood on the door where I had pressed my ear.  Strange.  I looked for the mirror that always hung in the hallway, leading to the other bedrooms, all empty this time of year.  No mirror.  I touched my left ear and pulled my hand away to look at it. Nothing. Then the right ear. Blood. Dried flakes and fresh blood too.

"LUCY!!  Where the fuck are you! I am bleeding! "
Nothing at all. No answer.

I found a small hand mirror in the bathroom. Old fake gold handle, regular mirror on one side, magnified on the other side.  I held it up to my face using the magnified side as I always did because it makes me bigger.  It makes everything bigger.  I liked that.  I looked at my huge right ear and saw the blood dripping out onto my vest and bare shoulder.  Cool.  I looked like a tough MMF fighter just out of the cage!  Awesome.  Where is that fucking Lucy?  She HAS to see this.

to be continued...end here at 8:54 am on Wednesday 12/16/15

The Best Man

The Best Man

My son, Tom, called me while I was in New Orleans back in 2005.  I had lost my job in Boston and fly down there to help my brother with his business.  It was a few months after Katrina hit and the town was a mess.  I worked as a carpenter, floor sander, painter, then as an insurance adjuster.  It was hot, dirty, disgusting work and at night we would sit out on the sidewalk at a bar on Magazine Street, waving flies off our food as Humvees full of National Guardsmen drove by, fully armed, to look for looters.

Then, my son called me and asked me to be his best man at his wedding and if I could drive up to Atlanta for his bachelor party. I was blown away and drove up there in a rented car trying not to cry for the joy and pride of it all.

My own father once said to me, in all seriousness, yet with a smug laugh and a sneer, just after my son, Tommy, was born;

“You couldn’t be father to a cat”

He was wrong. I was and am a good father and I have a great son to prove it.

FTC – remembering in 2015

(I have been blessed with a fantastic daughter, Elizabeth, and now have FIVE grandchildren (Lochlan and Aria from Tommy and Melody, and Leo, Sammy, and Peter from Biz and Andy) to play with. They call me Gaga and Grandaa. awesome)