Nana, where have you gone, why did you have to leave?
You were a huge part of my life since I began to breathe.
You left 8 years before your life ended, as the Alzheimer’s and dementia took your beautiful mind/personality/memory and obliterated it all.
You read all of my poetry and writings when I was a child and then as a young adult and you always encouraged me to keep at it. My first fan ❤️😊
Watching you rapidly disappear from yourself was beyond painful. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
I know if you had a choice you’d remain forever and I wish you could.
A hideous disease took away your memory of me well before that.
I miss your love and guidance.
I miss your laugh, if I try hard I can still hear it echoing in my mind.
I miss your cooking and ever so slightly broken- English.
I miss your stories of the old country.
I miss your calming energy presence in my life as these past 20 years have been challenging.
I am thankful for all you shared and showed and the mere echo of all of this is nice but nothing compared to your being here.
Thank you for building me up through those awkward horrible teenage years. It took a long time for women to get and frankly most still don’t, but I can hear you still sharply objecting to my self criticism and saying how handsome I was. Thank you for that I always felt like the greatest version of myself when I was around you.
Each time I see someone blog about their grandmother your loss hits me hard again.
So I say to everyone, love the important people in your life because they will not be a part of (in person) forever.
I wish I could hug you one more time and receive what we use to call a “nana kiss” which would leave dents on the jawbone from the shear force. 😂
I never could say goodbye and I never will.
Your love and touches on my life have made the man I am today.
So I thank you and hug you from afar but I cannot lie, it’s nothing compared to hugging you in person.
So “Rosarita Pizza Face” (family nickname) enjoy your eternity (you’ve earned it through love and sacrifice) and your rewards ❤️❤️
This is a different question, but I’ll do my very best to answer it the best I can.
There are many emoticons. I use often in my post, my texts and emails and social media entries. I’d have to say the following are my favorite emoticons to use: ❤️😊😀🥰😝🤩🤣😘😋😢.
The emoticons are used to convey emotions using pictures that are charged for various reactions. Pictures worth 1000 words and emoticons may be worth 50 or 25 worth ways to say “I love you. “ or “you’re beautiful.“ or terms of endearment if you’re sad that something happened to someone you might use a sad face.
I come from the old school where we used certain phrases in chat or in thread of discussions or emails, we use: “LOL” laugh out loud, or “LMAO” for laughing my ass off, or my favorite “ROFLMAO” rolling on floor laughing my ass off.
Also we had low tech versions of emoticons in the days of MySpace and other early social media platforms. Here are some that I used to use an emails, early text messages and the like
:-)(-; for romantic gestures. ❤ for a heart. Various smiles/smileys 🙂 :0) 😉 Or for sympathy or empathy 😦 :0( ;-(
Emoticons have replaced a lot of these phrases that were used many years ago when a lot of these chats and various social media systems were invented. Currently I sort of do a hybrid of both. I use a emoticons and I use a lot of the reserved language for lack of a better word that was invented 20-22 years ago.
Now many people use apply the word nerd to others for many reasons. A person wearing glasses, someone who is eccentric and different from others, someone who is intelligent, someone who is ‘out of step’ with the rest of the world or someone others have trouble relating to.
In my younger years it was also used as a derogatory term for a social outcast/misfit or someone low on the social totem pole that others tend to poke fun of to be mean or just belong. Many or most of these applications have been applied to me at one time or another by nearly everyone I know or have known. I even applied it to myself as a negative connotation.
Lately many seem to apply it to others as a ‘term of endearment for their own oddness, “Most of my friends are nerds, I love those people”. The words that I immediately focus on is ‘Those people’ many or most of us cannot get away from singling out others even in our adult lives. I think we all try to categorize people whether we mean to or not. Maybe it helps us organize all the people in the world by classifying I don’t quite know, just that we all do it.
Now what does the word ‘Nerd’ mean to me? I’d like to say that I’m proud to be a nerd but I cannot even finish saying the word before I start to cringe inside. I was either 5 or 6 when the word was first directed at me. I didn’t even know what it meant at the time which is silly since I was reading around 6 years ahead of my age. Part of me thought it was a compliment but of course when laughter was used with the word “What a nerd, hahaha” then the definition became clear at the time. I may not have understood the origins and meaning of the word but, its application was crystal clear. I have since derived meanings and shared them earlier.
Now as a kid there were still kids even in my neighborhood that would play with me and I was very active on the playground at school. However, I was still at the bottom, last person picked on teams (not sure why I was always at least ok at sports), or was forced onto a team. I guess when word gets around that you are different and a little uncoordinated for your age, word gets around and you’re sort of poisoned to others unless they get to know you. And there were some that did and they at least most of the time left me alone and treated me like everyone else. My best friend growing up was unfortunately at the top of the social ladder and eventually we drifted apart as the social caste system takes over in 6th or 7th grade.
Glasses, I mentioned them earlier and I wear ones that could (in the wrong hands) start a fire or murder some ants in the very least. I was without said device until age 8 in third grade I failed an eye exam at school and had to visit an optometrist or ‘optimist’ as I jokingly call them. I remember praying to God very very hard to pass my eye exam. I was pretty smart (too smart for my own good) and knew what would happen if I got glasses. So, I took my test and failed with what would become the best vision of my entire life 20/40. I say that because know my vision is something like 20/600. I remember being inconsolable in the optometrist office. I knew what was coming, worse than I had already been treated and I wish I was wrong but I wasn’t.
I think the term nerd and 4-eyes were applied to me after I added some pretty nerdy looking specs to my ensemble. I guess I didn’t know how to pick glasses as I never wore them before. My parents believed we should all make our mistakes and learn from them and boy did I. Take a harshly honest person (ergo, my wife) with you and have them tell it to you straight, at least you will not look poorly in the glasses they say look ok.
I for some reason in elementary school had a very advanced vocabulary and no one could understand me at times and that did not help. It was like speaking a foreign language that no one could understand and it put more distance between me and others. It was difficult finding pride in doing well in my studies as others were even mocking me for that. All I wanted was to be a ‘normal’ well-adjusted kid like everyone else. But the master builder had other plans for me. I was to be ‘me’ from the very beginning and I was fighting it even back then but I could not suppress who I was. This is a fool’s errand. We are who we are, nothing can change that. We may evolve and improve, but we are who we are. I tried running away from academic success but that only put more friction between my parents and I and as for my peers, well the teasing just went on. I remember there were a few bottom dwellers even lower on the totem pole than me, and I regret teasing them. It was like I was taking out my social rejections on them. It was a crude form of displacement and was cruel and I regret it and am sorry every day for my behavior.
I remember in junior high at Rincoln Elementary (Go Roadrunners!!) I was posed a question seemingly about 700 times a day by seemingly everybody, unfortunately. That great movie (it is pretty funny even today) Revenge of the Nerds came out in 1985 and of course everyone said, “Hey were you in that movie, Revenge of The Nerds? You’d be perfect”. I’d just drop my head and walk away hearing the echoing laughter as I did so.
Leonard Di Vinci was a brilliant scientist, designer, painter and sculptor. Well by the definitions I stated he would be a ‘nerd’ and yet he is an epitome of a Renaissance Man. If he is/was a nerd then that is company I’d like to be in.
I was also born with musical creativity so this made me a band and choir ‘geek’ or nerd while in school as well. But I love music and always will. I was made for music like a swimmer was made for water, yet a swimmer garnered more respect in those days. Of course, anyone in a rock and roll band was cool but that was pretty much it. I just tried to do what made me happy and that was performing music well or singing well. I felt like I was doing something I was meant to do, until the catcalling would start. I remember being pelted with tortillas at every football game my freshman year of high school. For some reason, we got more acceptance as the years went by and my everyone matured.
I remember one personal calling me ‘gauche’ in ninth grade. This of course means “socially awkward’ and though it stung it was highly accurate. I had been shunned for so long by so many that I really didn’t know how to fit in, even with other members of my tribe. It seemed I was even low-lying fruit in band. I would have to glom social skills of the few popular people that would (and still do) talk to me. If they only knew how much I wanted to be just like everybody else. Not unique, safely confirming like others and being treated like others. But that just didn’t happen. People became more accepting of me as I got older and mostly seem to remember me in a positive light from those older days. I sometimes wish I could be who they remember instead of who I am. I guess that is something we all battle in our lives, especially as we approach older age which is right around the corner.
I guilty, I love to read and love science. Many others I know and have known do not. I like science because it explains a lot of the origins of everything. For some reason, I was born with an insatiable curiosity about stuff and science helps spell out a lot of it so I love that. It makes me a nerd, by other people’s definition. There is nothing I can do about this one either as I will always want to know why about a great many things and I read up on them a lot.
One final area to touch on is my tastes in books and movies. I love, literature in all its forms and adore science fiction. This again forces the aforementioned label upon me. I started reading sci-fi, horror, fantasy and classic literature at a pretty young age (10). I still enjoyed the Beverly Cleary, Judy Blume and Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys books at that age too but I became a bookworm and got picked on and at for it.
“Be a beacon of light shining forward and blazing through adversity. Be brave take those steps alone you need. Make the changes go for the best in life and don’t be afraid to take fall or two along the way. “
Walking breathing faster as I try and bring up the pace only 3 miles today that’ll be easier than yesterday morning’s 6-mile jaunt as I am walking down the desert Blvd in south Central Arizona. Near a dry marshy area for drainage, and a strange thought starts cooking in my brain, truly a new level of weird even for me. I look to the left and right and of course see nothing but dessert scrub on each side of me or did I see that?
I can almost envision something a little more out there, a lot of, well me as I see a me from good and bad periods of my life from youth to my current ancient-ness I saw myself coughing hard in 4th grade when trying to run or walk due to all the smoking I grew up around.
I see myself covered in dried caked mud from 7th grade and was shoved into a mud-puddle by the popular folks. I see myself in wearing my first pair of glasses in third grade remembering the joshing I took for wearing them. I see myself wearing the first pair of contacts I ever go at age 16, remembering how long I had to train to get to finally wear them. I see myself in junior high wearing my first pair of tinted lens glasses looking nerdier than I had thought at the time. I see myself in my high school uniform with my field snare and cowbell, barking out orders to the drumline and counting off. I see myself standing next to my special PE teacher (Complete with his Polio Crutches) and I’m trying to keep up as I walk next to myself. I see myself in my blue and gold cap and gown complete with hat and tassel, thin young and handsome like I apparently was at that age (I had no idea). I see myself dressed to the nines to paul bear and Eulogize my favorite aunt/Godmother at her rosary and funeral, my biggest fan ever and supporter, gone way before her time… life will never be the same… I see myself at age 9, after one of my favorite birthdays every as I got a bunch of balls to play with and first played and received ‘Clue’. I see myself at age 11-12 with my first crush which may have set my life on a course of settling in the later years, and she was light-years out of my league. see myself at age 16 trying to go around with a girl in high school because everyone in the band thought we’d be a cute couple (I had to break it off because I didn’t feel the way she did). I see myself at age 17 in my shorts and tennis gear tan and muscular feeling jazzed after beating a bandmate at Tennis in San Diego in front of the band and drill team. I see myself at age 8 with drumsticks in my hand recalling that ‘year’ it took me to master the ‘Drum Roll’, I swear I never thought it would come, and one day it just did… I see myself at 32 after my first separation/divorce living on my own, still relatively fit and strong at the time, oh the wild times I had, smh… I still can’t believe what a ho I was. I see myself at age 13 with a red face as I have just been setup to have a popular girl laugh at my socially sorry self…. I see myself at age 12 getting picked on by a bunch of people after my teacher cut off preverbal my social head after saying I was “The smartest and best student in the class”. I see myself at age 33 trying to work up the courage to leave the crazy mess that would end up wasting another precious 8 years of my life… “Don’t do it” I scream, but I don’t hear myself. I see myself at age 40, celebrating 40 years and wishing I could get into a time machine and get a do-over for the wasted years, (I’ll likely do the same thing at 50). I see myself at age 42 contemplating (and rejecting) jumping out of the window of my suite at Harrah’s as I watch the Mirage Volcano, wondering how to get my fiancé (at the time) out of jail. I see myself at age 40 now Paul bearer for my nana as she finally passed on from Alzheimer’s (she died many years before that) my last fan… she never ever did anything but love me, I miss her still… I see myself at age 13 in junior high taking crap from the other drummers as I take my music and performances much more serious than my compadres and I become section leader to their chagrin. I see myself at age 48 I don’t know why, my first affair ever, I hate myself at the time and feel immense guilt, on the other hand this is the first woman I even met that complimented the heck outta me (narccistic strategy). I see myself at age 4 with two salad spoons and curly hair, I wanna be a drummer when I grow up after seeing Stevie Wonder play “Superstitious” on Sesame Street. I see myself at age 14 trying to learn all the KROQ bands after being laughed at by a couple classmates for not knowing answers to some very basic questions on some bands of the time… I see myself at age 16 with my first girlfriends, I am dressedup in a tux I wore to Winter Formal and my Junior Prom at the fabulous Bonaventure (my parents had to drive us to both)… I see myself at age 15 in the nerdiest brown suite I ever wore (my parents made me wear it) to my uncle Donald and Aunt’s wedding, I drained a bottle of Dom Perignon that night my first time drunk, and last for a long time… I see myself at age 18, dressed and carrying the sheet music (quickly reviewing it) for a concert I was about to site read as the snare drummer flaked that night… I see myself at age 42, realizing my fiancé and her mother have been mocking my gullibility at being manipulated into handling the bills and fallout while she was in jail and pining for her true love (another man), I’d leave soon after… I see myself at age 31, getting satisfaction and appreciation (both verbal and financial) for the first and only time in my career for a small window of time at a financial software company (3 years). I see myself at age 32, nearly dying from diabetes Meletus as I nearly work myself to death at my job at the time (80+ hr. weeks). I see myself at age 5 having one of the worst dreams I would ever have, and I never told my family or friends (I see each of my most loved relatives walking by and away from this cottage I was in, leaving me all alone) my eyes are still tear-stained. I see myself at age 10, petrified of lightning and deathly afraid of electrocution at the time, I used to hide inside my toybox in the closet to be clear of the flashes and thunder…(I’ve since grown to adore it). I see myself at age 25, biting off more than I can chew with my first wife, holding and comforting her for hours at a time and trying to keep her from hating or harming herself… I see myself in my fishing gear with a pole I’m about to cast into the lakes of the Sierra Nevada, confidence is high that I will snap a line here… I see myself at age 48 tears on my face as I write off for life, my narcisstic best friend who was consistently not there for me pretty much through all my adult disasters ( I was there for most of his till he pushed me over the limit). I see myself at age 33, realizing my first ex-wife was cheating on me with multiple men, I’d leave her soon after…
I see myself at age 50 walking along side of these guys who are all me wondering where I went wrong, fear, I let it rule my life, and other people I let them rule my life too, over, and repeatedly, doing anything to please them and minimize the problems always doing what I was told and blinding trusting just I have always done, nothing to do or think of myself, not having any goals other than love, respect, and acceptance and never receiving them…
Watching a houseful of people get a lot of what they desire and ask for with little pushback as I work two jobs and have little for myself to want as I closed my wants (for maintenance) at the time….
Watching my body fail and change and my hair go gray as I till wait for my turn to come up in the selection process in our drama-filled complicated dysfunctional family….
I do not know what my future holds but I know I can survive all the good and bad I’ve lived, and I may be alone for the remainder of my life, but I will love me this time.
This too one day will end and hopefully the great creator will reveal what this was all for or join in a laugh… Either way I’ll have my answer.
It’s spring 1990 and time for the last concert of my senior year at my alma mater. Thoughts forward and back flooded my mind as my final concert in highschool was about to happen. It was going to be a surreal concert as all others prior for my this year were as I opted out of the orchestras. Having 7 classes a day for 3 years and spending much of that time trying to manage and assist the drumline was tiring on me. So for these concerts I was strictly an usher and stagehand where needed.
—-
Things are well in hand, the audience is all seated and all stages are set for the elementary and high school bands, I grab a seat in the front row ready to enjoy this final concert as a spectator. Or so I thought.
—-
As I steady myself in my seat, the band director beckons me over. I sprint over figuring something from the band room was needed which I’d grab post haste. I was handed a folder full of music. The band director explains the snare drummer for the symphonic band was a no show and that I need to site read the concert. He laughed and said “let’s have some fun Anthony, we’re on in five, take a look at the music, the first piece should interest you”.
—-
I gasped and thought for a moment took a deep breath and made my plan. I’d grab my sticks asap and spend as much time as I can with the music. I sprint to the band room and grab my smallest nylon tips sticks and then back to the gym with the folder under my sleeve. I grab a chair and practice though the first piece noticing at it’s start “solo”. I analyzed it and each subsequent piece noticing the patterns in the notes and the dynamic shifts. The pieces were straightforward and I was ready which was just in time as the concert is about to begin.
—-
I grab my music and sticks and make my way on stage to the snare drum joining the Symphonic orchestra. The band tunes and I double check my instrument, tightening the snares and the muffle to the sound and feel I like. I face forward at the band director with my music and stand just to the right at lowest eye level.
—-
The band director turns around and introduces the band to the audience to nice applause. I feel and hear my heartbeat a little. This is going to be something to remember. I take a quick glance at my solo to come as the band director turns around and looks square at me a s smiles. He raises his baton and I raise my sticks then the downbeat and my solo. I gently rat-a-tatted my part as the drum responded to everything my hands did. In all honesty It was pretty rudimentary but I tried as always to make it sound good. I guess the way I played it sounded different than the band was used to as they all turned around and looked at me which made me very uncomfortable. I carefully read ahead and played the part flawlessly (thank goodness). We finish the piece and I let out a soft sign of relief. Then the next piece sad next piece my confidence growing from the first to the last.
—-
After completing the concert the band director patted me on the back and said “Wasn’t that fun Anthony” I responded with “I guess?” as I gathered myself and he laughed again.
—-
I thought to myself as I headed home later how crazy my last concert really was. I’d never have do that again l, well, until a couple of years later in college. I’d white-knuckle my concerts with the jazz band and chamber singers in where I’d learn the parts to their portion of it the night of the performance…
When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?
Like many of us I’m getting a sense of Deja vu with today’s question. i’m gonna take this opportunity to discuss when risks are worthwhile and when they’re not.
I believe we take risks every day. Some are worthwhile, while others blow up in our face. But you can’t let the bad moments take away your sensitive adventure, and your desire to grow through change.
That my friends is where the risk is going out on a limb, trying something new, someone new, loving someone new, changing careers, etc. These risks and they don’t always come out with great outcomes, but still worth it for the growth and knowledge that they bring.
We go through life and learn through our mistakes which risks are worthwhile , and which risks should be left alone. that’s called learning and it’s very important part of life. I pity those who don’t take risks, because they basically sit behind walls and never go out and live. The risks I’ve taken haven’t always gone as well as I would’ve liked, but they’re still worth the wealth if experience and self understanding I gained from them.
I have to say, though in the end at all the risks I’ve taken in my life, many of which were very foolish were worth it to be the person. I am now. I am empowered, I am brave, I am ready to live the life of my dreams and I won’t stop until I do. One risk, one change, one challenge at a time. 🔥💪 🔥
Christmas time, gifts family get togethers, warm feelings, all kinds of things going on that time of year. This past year I’ve lived with my family as I perform a life reboot for myself. During Christmas, the neighborhood I live in does ‘Christmas Lights’. It’s quite a spectacle, nearly all of the houses are dressed to the nines in holiday cheer. Lights, more lights, Christmas Trees, Reindeer, and still more lights. Reds, greens, whites, and any other color you can think of dancing about (too music in our display). It’s a lot of fun and a little difficult getting in and out of your house as this goes on with all the cars and whatnot traveling up and down our cul de sac. It’s quite beautiful and generally all who visit love it all. One December night, some who visited our front yard got more than they bargained for: a 50-year-old dancing in his underwear for all to see…
Ok let’s get to that cold December night where I looked the fool in front of a pretty extensive audience. Ritual time, it’s nearly 8:00 PM so: edibles in, music blaring and I’m preparing a bath. In my efforts to prepare to close out my night, I stupidly left the shades open in my room (which has two windows facing the street) I grab clothes and head to my bathroom and crank the water as hot as it’ll go. I disrobe and enjoy an epic hot bath with the music is jamming and singing along rocking to Jeff Beck. Life is great. As I finish my bath and get out dry off, I throw on a pair of my Scooby Doo boxer briefs on. All the while I forget that I essentially have a stage set in my bedroom for the neighborhood to see. I’m really buzzed now feeling relaxed, too relaxed as my guard is totally down now. In my skivvies I grab my Bluetooth speaker and head back to bedroom singing and swinging my torso like an idiot and I realize as there’s sudden shouting and applause and laughter (from outside). Cheeks red and burning, I realized I was apparently performing for a stunned audience of cars and a onlookers. My bedroom light is on and the shades are down it’s like I have a spotlight on me. I didn’t know what to do, my heart sinks to my feet and I had to think fast which was a bit of a challenge in the state I was in.
I didn’t know what to do so I threw myself on the ground (sniper avoidance style) and crawled on my belly to the other end of my bedroom nearest my drawer to grab a pair of pajamas and put them on as fast anyone could that was laying facedown on the floor. I’m so stoned at this point that I’m considering an encore performance (not!). I quickly closed my shades and turned down the lights chuckling to myself as I temper my odd cocktail of embarrassment, adrenaline, and the detached airiness that comes with indica related products when consumed.
Needless to say if it’s Christmas, Kwanza, Ramadan, Presidents’ Day or Groundhog Day for that matter, when my evening rituals take place, the shades are shut and the lamp off. My skivvy gyration was a one-off performance… I’d settle for laughing at myself when I set down phone and attempt to answer my glasses…. 🤣
Single life can get interesting quickly when you need to use a hammer on some frozen articles in the freezer.
Spot checking the refrigerator and freezer for grocery list items, I noticed an issue in my freezer in which 4 zip-locked marinara sauces (I made a big batch last weekend) were stuck to one another and through the freezer shelf.
Here’s where physics comes in, these sauces were originally frozen after cooling were in a liquid state at the time. As a result, some of the bags hung through the grates on the top shelf. When liquids/sauces/etc freeze, they sometimes expand a little as well which definitely happened here. <Physics lesson over>
I first tried to remove (they are adjustable) the top shelf and couldn’t because everything was quite stuck. I tried and tried and was able to pry off one of the sauces without breaking the bag (extra points for that effort). The other three sauces, however were very much lodged into the grated shelf and against the side of the freezer.
I tried, I pushed, I tugged (not too hard or I’d rip the ziplocks) I swore every bad word I could think of in English, Spanish, and Italian (we are multicultural at Anthony’s Place) but they wouldn’t budge. Then I thought to myself, “what will MacGyver do?”
Opening my tool drawer, I found my toolbox, took out a hammer and proceeded to hammer up (under the grate) on the frozen bags of marinara (I’m sure my neighbors love me 😝) until finally I was able to pop the shelf out. I then removed it from the freezer with the sauces still stuck to it.
We have a second challenge again of physics and common sense. I want to defrost these sauces just enough to get them clear of the shelving grate so I can place them back in the freezer without needing to cook them all.
I placed the grated shelf and my lambadad (I’m not sure if the forbidden dance has ever been applied in this manner 😂😂😂) marinara sauces in the sink and ran cold water until the portions that were expanded and stuck, shrunk down enough for me to pull them out. I then immediately placed everything back in the freezer more easily as everything was still frozen (for the most part).
To not have a future repeat of this adventure, I’ll place something flat on top of the grading next time. Lesson learned, and it was truly a cultural event with multiple language swearing, a refresher in thermodynamics, and a little MacGyver, for good measure…😂😂😂