A Childhood Memory: Pencils

Even though I do most of my writing on the computer, including notes to myself and grocery lists as well as my essays, the number 2 pencil is still an important part of my life and memories.

Sitting next to me now as I write this is a white ceramic mug, emblazoned with the words “PENCILS 5¢” and filled with Dixon unfinished wood wrapped lead pencils. Each pencil is sharpened and attractively fanned out in the mug. I rarely use them, but none the less they are important to me!

The smell of a box of one dozen fresh, new pencils was part of the September’s going back to school protocol. It made, with the smell of a new box of 48 Crayolas and the taste from a jar of white library paste, the ending of summer and the beginning of the school year almost bearable.

A sharp, plastic, usually red pencil sharpener would create long, thin, winding shavings of pencil that if done carefully could hang almost to the trash basket as your pencil renewed its black, shinny point.

The more industrial pencil sharpener, attached to the wall of my classroom, gripped the pencil unmercifully with its alligator like mechanism and slowly fed the pencil into itself while you wound the handle. If you were not careful, the machine could eat your entire pencil without producing the sharpened point you were after.

If you were lucky, the teacher would select you to be the Pencil Sharpener Monitor of the month with the task of emptying the pencil shavings container daily. For some reason, the shavings in this invention were more a collection of crumbs than the windings of your personal pencil sharpener. I never did understand that.

With the invention of the “automatic pencil” with its replaceable leads and erasers which were housed in an attractively colored, expensive plastic cylinder to be twisted anew and used over and over again; the role of the pencil diminished.

With the invention of the “throw away” cheap plastic pencil, with its one “use it or loose it” eraser and the automatically self feeding lead; the wooden pencil again lost its place of honor.

I hung on however, and while I admit that I had to have several of these new inventions in my pencil case, I secretly continued to enjoy the old fashioned wooden pencil.

I used to enjoy chewing my erasers, so was grateful when they invented the eraser cap - a tent or pyramid shaped eraser replacement that would be slipped over the end of the pencil. They came in many colors and my pencil case usually contained one of each color. That made me happy.

My Grandma Lillian, who seemed old beyond her years to a very young me, was what in those days they called Manic/Depressive. It was an emotional condition meaning that sometimes she was overly sad, withdrawn, and depressed and at other times exuberantly happy, outgoing, and manic to the point of sometimes doing damage to herself and to her surroundings.

When she was in her depressive stage she lived at home with us and did fairly well as experienced at least by those around her. When she was in her manic state she would live in a Mental Institution and while she was difficult to deal with and a danger to herself, she probably enjoyed herself the most when she was in that state.

During the beginning of these manic stages she would smoke “like a chimney,” eat black pitted olives by the can, and write letters to government officials complaining about whatever was on her mind and bothering her. She would send me, as a little boy, to buy her cigarettes, olives, and pencils.

I would go to the neighborhood “mom and pop” convenience store (much like today’s 7-11 but owned by individuals not corporations.) The shop in our neighborhood, just under the “L” viaduct, was called ‘Goldstein’s’ because it was owned by Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein.

Mrs. Goldstein was always happy to see me and called me “Dark Eyes” because of my piercing brown eyes that sported long, long black lashes. I would hand her the note from Grandma that gave me permission to buy cigarettes and while she got them, I would get a can of olives off the shelf and two or three pencils from the box on the check out counter. Mrs. Goldstein would always give me a piece of candy.

Pencils have been part of my life for quite a while now and in the telling of this story I realize that I am now as old as Grandma Lillian was then. Despite the changes in type and functioning of pencils, to this day the old fashioned wooden ones still exist and will probably continue to exist long after I have ceased to do so.

Happy Birthday Linda

Isn't it amazing how evocative photographs can be? This one of my cousin Linda recently showed up as her profile picture on Facebook. It was her birthday and she was remembering time gone-by with posting it. The site of the photograph stopped me cold in thoughtful memory. I had seen that photograph and maybe there was even a copy of it in our family photograph album, with black glued corners holding it in place.

Suddenly I was approximately the same age as Linda or a little older. I lived on Kedzie Avenue, attended Mather High School, resurfaced all the confusion and frustrations of a teenager. I again felt the emotions and doubts of a Gay teenager who wasn't "out," didn't really know what Gay meant; only felt different, an outcast, called "queer" and "fag" by the more confident of his classmates.

I relived dating girls, exploring heterosexuality, necking & petting, not knowing if my dad would let me have the car for a weekend date. Not being a good student, worrying about how I dressed and how I looked, sucking at all sports, working at HiLo Grocery Store stocking shelves, taking the bus most places, and triple dating with my school buddies and best friends Rick and Jeff (both of whom died shortly after we finished college.)

I remembered my parents' "Couples Club" and "Cousins Club." Once a month, the "Couples" would alternate houses to get together for dinner, drinks, and to play cards. The "Cousins" would get together less often but would collect "dues" to be put towards a big once a year celebration like going out en mass to a nightclub with a show, or dinner club with dancing.

I thought about Linda's mom and dad, Mildred and Irving, her brothers Sheldon & Sherwin, and how I enjoyed spending time with their family. I remember hearing my mom say that Linda always hoped she could grow up faster so we could get married. I can still smell and taste the wonderful cookies that Mildred was such an expert at creating.

All this and more from seeing a single photograph.

Seasonal Changes

Today was the last day of our Christmas Season. All of the entertaining is done, all the presents given and those received unwrapped. Most of the homemade cookies gone: Peanut Butter, Oatmeal Raisin, Date Nut Bars, Walnut Balls, Chocolate Walnut Balls, Snickerdoodles, Chocolate Chip, Brownie Bites. Tomorrow we take down the decorations.

As much as we love the holidays and decorations and celebrations and entertaining, we also enjoy putting everything away until next season and getting our life back to normal. The house always seems so much more orderly and spacious when all of the Christmas is tucked back into boxes and put back on the shelves in the laundry room above the washer and dryer.

Now is the time to pick up all the projects that have been put on hold as well as the time to reflect on last year and the possibilities of next year. This week Gregory and I are preparing for an art show at our friend's Jan & Jake's IN THE TABLE GALLERY. Carmen at the Lyric Opera of Chicago, and my role as a supernumerary continues again for eight performances in March. The count down until the opening of my Michael's Museum at The Chicago Children's Museum on Navy Pier begins in earnest: Friday, May 13, 2011. Writing continues. Photography continues. Work on "As Assembly of Assemblages" which opens on June 1, 2011 at the Lincolnwood Village Hall Gallery will go on simultaneously.

Life is busy. Life is good.

Names Have Been Changed To Protect The Innocent

Who are these people? Do you recognize them. They seem familiar to me but I am not sure who they are. The beautiful woman: content, happy, smiling? The little boy: no cares, no worries, protected, smiling? The little girl: daddy's girl, happy, confident, smiling? The good looking man: sure, successful, realized, smiling?


Adeline or should we  call her wife, mom. Michael or should we call him son, brother. Libbe or should we call her daughter, sister. Louis or should we call him husband, father. And eventually shall we call them grand parent, great grandparent, wife, grand parent, partner, uncle, great uncle.


Did they have any idea of who they would be for the next sixty or so years? What joys? What sorrows? A final breath. A tear at their passing and then with tears dried, their final breaths? 


I seem to know these people but maybe in a dream or in a good fiction recently read. And who took the picture?

Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead)

Day of the Dead in Mexico represents a mixture of Christian devotion and Pre-Hispanic traditions and beliefs. During the pre-Hispanic era, death did not exist. Death was seen, instead, as simply a transition, a voyage through time and space towards true life.

The celebrations take place on two days. The souls of the dead children arrive on October 31st. As they depart on November 1st, their place is taken by the souls of the adults.

On these days, the deceased are believed to receive divine permission to visit friends and relatives on earth and to share the pleasure of living once again.

While the deceased are represented in skeletal form, the celebrations are not macabre, but rather portrayed with love, humor, and affections by both artists and participants.

On both days, the living and the dead are reunited at grave sites and home alters that are adorned with flowers, candles, sugar skulls (Calaveras,) skeleton figures, and the favorite food and drink of the departed.

The altar includes four main elements of nature: 1) Earth is represented by food and it is believed that the souls are fed by the aroma of food. 2) Wind is represented by a moving object, usually tissue paper flags (Papel Picado.) 3) Water is represented by a glass of water for the souls to quench their thirst after the long journey to the alter. 4) Finally, fire is represented by wax candles, one for each soul remembered and an extra one for the forgotten soul.

The dead are never forgotten because once a year they take their places beside the living to enjoy their love and the fruits and flowers of the earth.

This year, Gregory and I created an Oferenda for our parents. It includes Pan de Muertos (Decorated Bread made especially for Day of the Dead,) Jim Beam & Circus Peanuts (for Ed,) Fannie Mae Trinidads (for Helen,) Tootsie Rolls (for Lou,) and Fannie Mae Toffee Chips (for Adeline.)

Edited from:

-Mary J. Andrade, http://www.dayofthedead.com

-Jeffry Weiss, Arte Popular Miniaturas, Puerto Villarta, Mexico

Walgreens

Helen, Gregory's mom, lived graciously for several years in an assisted care apartment in Battle Creek, Michigan, Tony the TIger's home town. She was in her 90's and fairly healthy but had a hard time "getting around." She used to call her son Mark, who lived nearby, every day or two and tell him, "I need to go to Walgreens. When can you pick me up?" Mark, while a good and patient and supportive son, wondered why she didn't make a list and do her shopping every couple of weeks or so and all at one time.

Today Gregory and I ran errands. We made an adventure of it in our old neighborhood on Central Street, a ten minute drive from where we live currently. First we had lunch at Prairie Joe's, our favorite diner, and while eating visited with the owners. Next we stopped at Food Stuffs, hopefully to visit with Marlene, a neighborhood friend who works there, but she had already left for the day. We bought tonight's Yom Kippur dinner from Food Stuff's deli. We proceed on to Great Harvest Bread Shop where Gregory gets his Morning Glory Health Muffins. We also bought a challah with raisins for our holiday meal and played with all the different ways the name of that Jewish bread could be pronounced. Finally we stopped at Office Depot to have two copies of my manuscript spiral bound, to laminate several dozen Michael's Museum Book Marks which I made earlier, and to purchase several reams of paper.

We arrived home looking forward to our evening coffee and remembered how my dad used to announce "Cossie Tyne" when he poured his evening coffee and his dog Sandy would come running because it was the same time she got her treats. With our folding card, which we keep in the trunk of the car, loaded we took the condo garage  elevator down to the lobby, retrieved our mail, and took the tower elevator up to our unit.

While we were walking down the hall to our unit I commented to Gregory that now I understood why Helen used to call Mark every day or two for a trip to Walgreens. He agreed by saying, "Yes, it was her way of getting out." I added, "Yes, and it helped her feel that she was being productive by keeping her life in order and by running errands.

And now while I am typing this, both Gregory and I are having our Cossie.

Kookaburra

Every now and then I find myself trying to sing this song. I do not know when or where I heard it for the first time or why, but somehow the melody and some of the words have stuck. I usually try singing it to my cat Mariah, one of whose nick names is "Pooker Shell." So I started with "Pooker Berry sits in the old oak tree" but I couldn't get any further.


Today I finally sat down and did some GOOGLE searching. After the fourth or fifth entry it finally came up: "Did you mean Kookaburra?" and "Hurray," I said, "Yes." Turns out it wasn't Pooker Berry and it wasn't an old oak tree.  But now I know the words and will try to be more accurate in my singing. 

Kookaburra

Written By: Marion Sinclair
Copyright © Larrikin Music Publishing Pty Ltd.
International Copyright Secured.
All Rights Reserved.

 CLICK HERE AFTER YOU READ THE LYRICS TO HEAR MELODY AS IT WILL CLOSE THIS BLOG AND OPEN A NEW WINDOW. 


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Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree

Merry, merry king of the bush is he

Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!

Gay your life must be

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Eating all the gum drops he can see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
Leave some there for me

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Counting all the monkeys he can see
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
That's not a monkey that's me

Kookaburra sits on a rusty nail
Gets a boo-boo in his tail
Cry, Kookaburra! Cry, kookaburra!
Oh how life can be

September 11, 2001: Flags and Rainbows

At various times through the years of my adult life it has been easy or difficult, fashionable or unfashionable, political or non-political to fly the American Flag. Sometimes we are proud of our country and what it stands for. Other times we are not so proud or closer to ashamed of what our country's leaders and/or citizens do or say.

Maybe this waxing and waning of pride of country is OK. Throughout history nationalism in its extreme has lead to trouble. Maybe a healthy outlook and the ability to say what one thinks about one's country is where the balance should be and what makes the U.S.A. a great nation. We know that in many parts of the world the "citizens" do not have that right, freedom, ability … call it what you will … to do so. 

"The negative results of nationalism cannot be denied. It can cause division in societies when one nationality classes itself as superior to another. This also generates racism, and can often lead to violent and bloody conflicts. On the personal level, individuals may be persecuted because other individuals or groups believe their nationality to be inferior, or that it poses a threat."

"Nationalism is a powerful tool, as it takes its strength from the sentiments of belonging that most individuals possess. This has led to its use by politicians as a way of gaining popular support through uniting a people under a common cause. It is a vague concept, and can be shaped by the bearer to mean almost anything, and most people are vulnerable to it in some form or other. Because of this, it can be a very dangerous weapon in certain hands." (What is Nationalism? Katy Hughes. 2008.)

Popular or unpopular, today is a day to fly our flag in memory of those who died unnecessarily and those who gave their lives to help others. We need to think of those people still living who were affected by the deaths. The need here is to focus on the lives and love of these people, not the hate of their perpetrators. We need to revisit 9/11 and the World Trade Towers  by celebrating the lives of those who died, not by stoking the fires of hatred against others. 

We need to give a lot of thought to the differences among the peoples of the world and weight carefully the influences of the Freedom of Speech and the Freedom of Religion. We need to work to make sure that the two can coexist. With the September 2010 threats of burning the Koran, the continuing fear of and threats against those who practice the Muslim faith, the Ground Zero and Muslim Mosque controversy, with some of our fellow countrymen and politicians using these differences to sow hatred and gain power, we cannot let one freedom be used to put down the other freedom, both must coexist. That must be our goal. 

We need to find a balance between freedom of speech and freedom of religion and the promise of the biblical Noah, "Never again!" Either way, today is a day to fly our flag.