Choices

I started my Spring cleaning this week. 

Aside from the normal cleaning I do each week, once a year I get out the toothbrush and really scrub the place down.  I am not a whirlwind cleaner so it takes me a few weeks to get it all done.  Why so long?  Because I don’t let cleaning get in the way of other things I like to do, such as spending time with Rick, getting on the computer, writing my blog, watching my favorite TV shows, reading my Nook, and occasionally getting out of the RV so I won’t become a hermit.  Besides, cleaning is work and you do remember that I am retired.

My Spring cleaning begins with reorganizing.  Reorganizing can take a lot of time, especially since I have 37 cabinets, 24 drawer, and 7 closets to deal with.  But this is the part of Spring cleaning that I like the best.  It is so satisfying when you’re done and everything is neat and in order again.  It’s also an opportunity to see again some precious things I tucked away for safe keeping.

I started in the bedroom this week (11 cabinets, 11 drawers, 3 closets).  I unloaded every cabinet, drawer and closet (not all at the same time) to see what I had, what I wanted to keep, what I wanted to give away and what I wanted to toss in the trash.  My bed was covered with stuff.  As I went through everything, I came across a few items that made me stop and reminisce.

Tucked away in my office drawer with paper clips, pens, stapler, etc. and underneath everything, I found some cards I had received (from my mom, my son, my sister-in-law Debbie, my friend Barb), our wedding napkin (it says, Our Wedding Day, Pat and Rick, February 3^rd, 1989), a note Rick wrote to me (it starts out, To My True Love…gosh he can be so romantic sometimes), and two quotes that I liked enough to write down on paper.

One quote is by Joseph Epstein and says, “All men and women are born, live, suffer and die; what distinguishes us one from another is our dreams, whether they be dreams about worldly or unworldly things, and what we do to make them come about. We do not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose our historical epoch, the country of our birth, or the immediate circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die; nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live.”

I really like this.  On the one hand it takes the pressure off because I didn’t have a choice in beginning my life.  But on the other hand it puts the pressure on because now that I am, I must be.  I must choose my own path.  I must create and fulfill my own dreams.  So profound.

Just yesterday I was on Facebook trading comments with a former classmate from Junior High and High School.  We were talking about our days in Junior High School.  We were picking songs from that time that had meaning to us back then.  My choice was, We Gotta Get Out Of This Place, a 1965 song by the Animals. I was just fourteen. 

At fourteen, I wanted to grow up too fast—get through school, drive a car, get a job, get married.  I wanted it all.  However, I didn’t always think things through.  I didn't always make good choices.  I sometimes made bad decisions and sometimes let my peers make decisions for me, and not all of them were good ones.  Looking back today I see where I went off my path.  I didn’t dream big enough.  I didn’t demand more from myself.  I settled for what I thought I could attain on my own power when I should have looked to others for guidance.  Maybe that was me just being fourteen.  I don't know.  There was no manual for me to go by.  Am I sorry?  No.  It was my choice and I believe I’ve had a pretty good life.  Could it have been different?  Yes.  Better?  Who knows.  What I do know is that I am happy where I am and that is all that matters.

The other quote I found in my office drawer says, “From the outside looking in, it’s impossible to understand.  From the inside looking out, it’s impossible to explain.” 

Yep, that’s my life in a nutshell.

 ~ P

The Dawnwood Years, Part 2 (The Stu Mystery)

Here are some more of my ramblings on the notes that were written in my yearbooks and the memories they evoked.

I didn’t really date in 7th grade. Note passing, eating lunch together, walking to classes together, going to someone’s party together, and coming by the house after school or on Saturday’s are what I would call dating in the 7th grade. There were a few notes written in my yearbook that gave me some clues as to who I was “dating” back then. Here’s what Alice Madonna wrote:

God made butter,
God made cheese,
God made Patty,
For Jimmy to squeeze.
Love Alice

My friend Gail Casserly also wrote a note that mentioned Jimmy. The Jimmy they were referring to is Jimmy DeGregorio. I remember he was my boyfriend in 7th grade and into 8th. He is the first boyfriend I remember having. I don’t remember how long we dated or even when or why we broke up.

But Jimmy wasn’t my first crush.

My first crush was Henry McDowell, who was two years older than me and lived next door. He was also my brother Mike’s friend. But Henry never acknowledged this crush. To him I was only Mike’s little sister who always wanted to hang around with them and one time when they let me, I wrecked Henry’s mini bike down at Wood Road Elementary School. It happened at the end of summer just a few days before school started. Going too fast + forgetting how to stop = big crash!! I remember I skinned up both knees pretty badly and was embarrassed by this on my first day of 7th grade. I looked like a little kid with skinned up knees. Ugh!

Sorry, I got sidetracked. Getting back to the notes. There was one note that indicated I had a crush on someone else besides Jimmy. It was written by Stu.

It’s too bad it didn’t last.
Oh well, good luck.
Stu

Stu who? Pantke or Silberman? Or was it another Stu? Anybody remember? The mystery continues.

Moving on to 8th grade, there wasn’t much in the way of “clues” in my yearbook so I don’t have much to tell about that year in my life. There were only 8 kids who signed my yearbook and 7 of them just signed their name. I wonder why? Did I fall in a hole or something? Tommy Accardi wrote a note on the FRONT of my book that got me in trouble with my mom. She didn’t think I should let kids “deface” the cover of my yearbook. I got mad at her for saying that. Maybe that is why I didn’t get many people to sign it. Did Mom confiscate it?

Notes picked back up again in 9th grade with 35 students and 5 teachers signing my yearbook. Stu’s name turned up in 4 of those notes and there was even the most sincere note to me written by mystery Stu himself. I'm embarrassed that I can’t remember. I wonder if Stu even remembers?

The other notes in my yearbook contained some endearing comments about me. Louise Kilcoyne called me her “science buddy,” Rich Portnoy called me his “little friend,” Al Giuffrida thought I was a “gr-8 German student,” James Feigel called me his “partner in the hall,” while others used words like sweet, kind, considerate, nice, thoughtful, loveable, a real doll, and a cute kid to describe me. Was I all that? Hmmm, but it’s nice to know others thought so.

I wish I could remember more of what happened during these impressionable years. When life is happening to you, you take it for granted. You know some of the major events in your life will pop up in your memories later on, that’s a given. It’s the minor or trivial things that don’t hang around in your brain for recall. I’m glad that these notes in my yearbooks were there to coax my brain into giving up these few memories that have been hidden for so long. I wish it had given up more.

I’ll close the Dawnwood years with another 7th grade memory that came to mind as I sat on my bed in my RV looking through my yearbook.

It was 1964. I just got the yearbook. I was sitting on my bed in my room looking through it and picking out all the cute boys in my class. At that age it was all about the boys. Little did I know then that the boy I thought was the cutest would become my husband six years later, Don Neidhart. Was that my destiny? I think so. My wonderful son, Jeffrey, and my beautiful grandchildren, Lexi, Niki and Andy, are proof of that.

To be continued . . .

The Dawnwood Years, Part 1

In the next few blog posts, I’ll be continuing on with my reminiscing about my Junior High and High School experiences that were sparked by me digging out my old school yearbooks.

As I entered 7th grade at Dawnwood Junior High School, I remember being scared and excited at the same time. Afraid I couldn’t get to my classes on time or would get lost in the halls. Excited about all the new people I would meet and experiences I would have. I slowly thumbed through the pages of my yearbook, the 1964 Orbit, trying to relive that time by coaxing buried memories to the surface of my mind.

The great thing about 7th grade yearbooks is they are full of notes and well wishes from your classmates that give you clues to what your life was like back then. Some of them are funny, others simply wishing you the best in the future. Here are a few classics:

Remember Grant;
Remember Lee;
The “hell” with them;
Remember me!
Ted (Blanco)

Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust
If it weren’t for boys
You would rust.
Love & Lolly Pops,
Cecelia (Vanisky)

Never kiss by the garden gate.
Love is blind, but the neighbors ain’t.
Love ya, Jack (Reinhard)

There were loads more, equally as corny. Some wrote “good luck in 8th grade,” while others just signed their name. John Brown wrote “Peace & Contemplate.” A 7th grader? This guy was so far ahead of the rest of us. In all there were 40 students and 9 teachers who signed my 7th grade yearbook. I will cherish every one of them.

I must say that traveling down this road has awakened something in me…a desire to reconnect with the person I was back then and a need to reflect on the person I am today. How do the two compare? I would like to think that I am that same person deep down inside, but how can I be? So much has happened in my life these last 45 years that forced me to change.

For one, I am now a child of God…the old me is gone and I was made new. Hallelujah! And life experiences change you: 3 marriages, 2 divorces, children, death, etc. all have a part in shaping who you are and how you look at life. I’d like to think I’ve handled these changes in a positive manner, that I didn’t let them take away from who I am at the core, but instead used each experience to make the person I was back in 1964-69 a better version of the one I am today in 2010. Yes, that’s what I think.

To be continued . . .

If I Could Do It All Over Again

Since being on Facebook, I have been in touch with several old classmates that I hadn’t thought about in 40+ years. There was a 40th reunion of the Class of 1969 this past summer, but I was not able to attend. Neither did I attend my 20th or 30th. There was always something stopping me from going. My loss. It would have been nice to reconnect with people who knew me when.

Yesterday, I took out my Dawnwood Junior High School and Newfield High School yearbooks to jog my memory of those years in my life. So much has happened between 1964 when I entered the 7th grade and 1969 when I graduated high school. Now, my brain is clogged with 45 years of stuff and, try as I might, I can’t shake out many memories from back then. I wish I would have taken the time to write a journal, take some pictures or do something that would have helped me later to recall the fun times, the heartbreaks, the experiences I had back then. Kids today have it much better. With affordable digital cameras, online social networks and blogs they can record their entire life without much effort and recall it down the road to relive again and again. I see my granddaughters doing it.

The one regret I have after looking through all the yearbooks was that I didn’t make the most of my school years. I didn’t really get involved. I didn’t join in enough.

The only group I remember being involved with through all three years of Jr. High was Chorus. I loved to sing. Still do. Also, I saw my picture in the German Club for 9th grade. (Was machst du heute nach der Schule? Translation: What are you doing after school today?) But I don’t remember anything about German Club. What did we do in that club? Anybody?

In my sophomore and junior years I didn’t do or join anything. In my senior year, I joined the Quadrangle staff (probably because I was dating Don Neidhart who was the Sports Editor) as a contributing writer (I wrote a column about what was going on in other schools) and I was involved in the senior production (I wrote the Excederin Headache #69 commercial and co-starred in it with Marc Capobianco).

When the 1969 Medietas came out, I remember feeling sad when I looked up my name and there were only two numbers listed beside it, #95 and #200, the pages on which my picture appears. One was my senior picture and the other the group picture of the Quadrangle staff. Aside from class head shots, there were many other pictures in the yearbook, but I was only in one of them. I remember looking at the senior pictures and seeing all the activities, sports and clubs other seniors were involved in and the number of years they were active and thinking I wish I had done more. But it was too late. You can’t go back and relive your school days again. You only get one shot.  But if I could, I would do it differently.

If I could talk to a bunch of 7th graders today, I would tell them the key to a successful and fulfilling academic experience is to get involved. Join a club, sing in the choir, play sports, get to know as many people as possible, have the best school spirit you can have, attend all the games, plays and events you can get to, and record as much of it as you can in photos and journals. There will come a time, maybe 20 or 30 or 40 years later, when you will be glad you did.


To be continued . . .