Summer Sounds

I love being in the swimming pool in the back yard, especially floating on a raft on a hot, lazy summer day. Today, as I floated I thought about the many things that have changed in my life. Some changes were good and others I desperately long to go back to the way things were.

Yes, I have learned over the years that most things in our lives change. We change the foods we like. We change the fashions we like (thank goodness). Most of us will change our addresses and change jobs. Even our friends will change and sometimes we even change whom we are married to.

But today I realized that for me, there is one thing that has not changed much in my life – summer sounds.

Quietly I floated across the pool with my eyes shut as the sun poured upon my shoulders. Bathing there I heard the peaceful sound of the water moving through the filter. Next I could more clearly hear the sound of the nearby ball field. Kids pinging the balls with aluminum bats. The roar of parents cheering and the lull of coaches instructions. I heard the ice cream truck getting closer and closer up the hill. The hum of a neighbor’s lawnmower.  A plane’s engines buzz slowly across the sky. The occasional barking dog. Kids laughing and slamming screen doors. A bird singing his song to a lover in the distance. These are the sounds that have traveled with me across time.

As I opened my eyes the intensity of the sounds that filled my head lessened. They slowly faded and were tucked back safely away. At least until I need to come back to visit those familar sounds of summer.

Remembering Beverly Hills

When I was just a teenage girl I worked for the Schilling family, Dick, Rick, Ron and Scotty, the owners of the Beverly Hills Supper Club. I was a waitress at Beverly Hills. It was hard work but I loved working there. Each night at 4PM I would arrive to prepare for some type of fun gathering; corporate parties, award banquets, weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, families, friends, always some type of celebration. A place where everyone wore a smile, including me.

I remember the smell of flowers always placed on the tables. Elegant stemware, proper place settings of dishes and flatware. Beautiful chandeliers. Black and white uniform on my small 100 pound frame. Black waitress shoes. My long black hair tied in a pony tail, waving down my back. Water goblets never empty.

I remember my friend, Walter Bailey, the busboy.   He was scheduled that night, too. We worked  at Beverly Hills and often spent time together after work. Later, we would go to Northern Kentucky University to earn our degrees. I miss him from time to time. I often wonder where he might be living with his family. I wonder how much he remembers, how much he doesn’t want to remember…

On that night in May of 1977, celebration turned into disaster when a fast-moving fire broke out in the club. It was an inferno that would leave deep scars still visible three decades later.

I clearly remember that night. I was dressed in my uniform and was ready for work.  I was scheduled in the Cabaret Room, which meant I would get to see much of the show.  It also meant bigger tips.    I  had a change of clothes with me tonight, like many nights, since I would inevitably smell like heavy cigarette smoke from the guests in the club at the end of my shift.

I had been dating a Chase law school student and was quite infatuated with him. He insisted that he drive me to work that night. So, I left my parents house in my uniform, waved and told them I would see them after work. However, as we got on US 27, my friend begged me not to go in to work. I had never missed before. I needed the money but I wanted to be with my friend more. Next, it was fate that took me by the hand. As he asked the third time, I didn't answer him as he drove past the entrance. I just looked up the hill, wondering what I would be missing that night.  I remember a strong feeling that something was different tonight.  He drove toward Cincinnati that night, with no real plans in mind.

Later, that evening we crossed the bridge back into Newport. All we could hear were sirens. We saw several emergency vehicles racing past us. The radio repeatedly announced Beverly Hills Supper Club was on fire and there were reported casualties. I was sure my parents had heard the news and must be worried sick.  There were no cells phones to call and tell my mom and dad I was not there, that I was okay... alive. As we turned the corner on the little street where I lived in Newport, there were many of my family members standing in the street talking, pacing, visibly worried.  I will never forget the complexity of emotions (worry, relief, happiness, sadness) I saw in my parent's eyes that night.   The last thing I remember seeing was the orange glow of the fire above the trees in our yard.  The air felt  heavy with sadness.

It was May 28, 1977 when the Beverly Hills Supper Club in Southgate, KY packed in nearly 1,300 people in the Cabaret room to hear singer John Davidson. A fire broke out, causing panic and overwhelming people, fighting to escape. In the end, 165+ people lost their lives and more than 200 were injured.

For whatever reason, I was not there. Luck? Or divine intervention? 

City Neighbors

I live in a part of a city that is about three miles from downtown Cincinnati. However, that does not mean that you won’t see raccoons, deer, wild turkeys or foxes in my yard. Today grazing in the back yard off my deck were two beautiful, golden brown deer. They were not shy either. When I walked onto the deck they only looked up to ask what I wanted. It was immediately obvious that they thought the yard belonged to them as much as anyone else.

Some local areas are greatly overpopulated with deer. A couple years ago the neighboring city of Fort Thomas passed an ordinance to permit bow hunting in hopes of reducing the increasing deer population.

These deer will forage for food wherever they have to. Many of the deer's natural habitats have been wiped out due to the ever-expanding human population. Deer are then forced into residential areas because in many cases there is nowhere else for them to go. Many times they haphazardly wander into a yard and begin feasting on trees and plants. They often come back for seconds.

I like deer. I think they are pretty and seem so peaceful. But, I will be watching these two guys. They are welcome back as long as they don’t feast on hostas or my flower bed. Then, like any problem neighbor, a good fence might be in order.

Drive-thru Camping

Not much to do today until we remembered that some family members were camping not far from home. The kids and I hopped into the van and drove to Big Bone Park.

When we arrived our family campers already had their site set up to perfection. Picnic tables lined with food. Coolers packed with ice cold drinks. Chairs placed strategically under the shady Maple trees and even a little wading pool filled with refreshing water.

We ate, drank and socialized for a couple hours. We all enjoyed our camping time. I am not much of a overnight camper, personally I like a five star hotel with a comfy bed and all amenities that money can buy, however, this drive-thru type of camping is not bad, not bad at all.

And, there was no packing or unpacking!

Grease is the Word

It had not been announced what the play was yet, the hints seemed to point that it would be “Grease." Director Kevan Brown finally announced, "This is a show students have wanted to do year after year, and I finally gave in.” Grease is the word.

I remember when the signup sheet was posted last fall. Rachel was so excited and wanted to be a part of the high school play. So, she immediately signed up and informed Michael she had signed him up, too.

Before long the practices started. Some Sundays, Rachel and Michael were anxious and ready to go. Other Sundays they moaned that they had no free time. Nevertheless, they crawled into the van and off they went up to the gym at NCC every Sunday, for the next six months, where they faithfully met for several hours.

Before long Rachel and Michael learned the hand motions to the “Hand Jive” and the dance steps to “Grease Lightning.” We all started whistling the tunes in”Grease.”

Early spring brought on a new phase of practices, they were now meeting after school a couple days a week, in addition to the Sunday practices. Costumes from the late 1950’s were coming together. Michael with hair slicked, wore jeans, white t-shirt and leather jacket with Converse type shoes. Rachel wore a pair of pedal pushers, a 50’s type blouse, and chiffon scarf around her neck, along with bobby socks and white cloth gym shoes. Things were definitely coming together.
For several months, more than 150 students had been preparing for the school's musical performance of Grease. On Saturday, April 25th, our family went to see Grease. Amy, Jeff, Brandon, Philip, Katie, Nathan, Phil, and I sat in the third row as the speakers blared tunes from the 1950’s. Once the curtains opened it was a magical night, one that seemed to transport us back to Rydell High. We were taken back to a simpler time when youth, high school and love was all that mattered.

All those practices paid off, the performance was flawless.

I have now seen five performances, not once to be disappointed. I even know most of the lines and the words to most of the songs. Last night, Phil and I went to the last performance. The gym was jam packed with parents, family and friends. Again, another excellent performance, but with something noticeably different. There was a certain amount of melancholy, especially in the senior’s eyes. They must have realized what a very special performance this was. Something special, that they didn’t want to let go of.

As of last night, the play was over. No more practices, costumes or after play parties. Sundays are free once more. But, I think I know what the students were trying to hang onto last night. Yes, even I am sitting here with my pink Grease t-shirt, still humming the tunes and remembering, Grease is word.

Michael (center) and Rachel (far right) take their final bow after the last performance.

Dari Bar

After a long, dark, cold winter it is inevitable that the sun will start to shine a little longer and a litter warmer. Yes, and too, spring will arrive, along with the opening of the Silver Grove Dari Bar.

During the winter months, the Dari Bar appears to be hibernating, boarded up with plywood over the wide glass windows. Yet, this seasonal ice cream stand springs to life each year in the warm months. For approximately six months a year they're open every day, reminding customers that some of the best things in life are worth waiting for.

Today we made our first visit of the season to the Dari Bar. Since I was a little girl, my family has been driving out Route 8 to visit the Silver Grove Dari Bar. For countless years I have stood in line at the walk-up window behind a parade of moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, baseball and soccer players, coaches and fans as they ordered up everything from hot dogs, burgers and fries to banana splits, root beer floats and frozen concoctions called blitzes.

Today, I stood in line with my children and grandchildren. Yep, winter is officially over and spring has arrived. More and more, the lines grow longer, turning this seasonal stand into a treasure of tradition.

Earth Hour - The Lights Are Out

Truthfully, I don’t totally subscribe to the theory of Global Warming. You can't find a real scientist anywhere in the world who can look you in the eye and, without hesitation, without clarification, without saying, kinda, mighta, sorta, if, and or but...say "yes, global warming is with us."

Scientific research through U.S. Government satellite and balloon measurements shows that the temperature is actually cooling - very slightly - .037 degrees Celsius.

You will not see me buying any carbon credits in the near future.

However, I think we can all agree on reducing energy consumption and energy dependence. Dependence on foreign energy is an attack upon the wealth of the United States.

So, last night at 8:30 P.M. we turned off our lights for one hour. We lit the candles and gathered in the family room. For the first couple minutes I felt sort of, lost, without the computer, without the TV, in a room without electricity.

However, it didn’t take long before my eyes started to adjust.

We talked about what we did that day. Remembered those who were not with us. We talked about what we wanted to do this spring and summer. Where we would like to be a year from now. We talked. We listened. We shared.

Before you knew it 9:30 had passed and we were still sitting there without electricity, but not in the dark, seeing each other better than we have for a long time.

Happy Birthday John

Wondering where time went…

Today my oldest child turns 36 years old. Wait, it that right? I can’t really believe it. Could this be the same little baby boy that I brought home from the hospital in 1973? It can’t be. He was so little and helpless. So cute with lots of hair. It just doesn’t seem that long ago.

Memories take me to so many places in time -

· To that little baby boy that kicked all the time while playing in his crib.
· He would throw his baby bottles into Amy’s bed and stack up blankets and climb into hers.
· He loved sitting in the high chair eating Cheerios in Grandma’s kitchen.
· He loved a stuffed teddy bear named, “Tedwin”.
· John and Amy out in the yard catching lightning bugs and riding big wheels down the street.
· John loved Santa Claus (he strongly objected to the song which says, “Big Fat Santa is on His Way”, because that was so mean to his best buddy, Santa!)
· How smart he was in Kindergarten, I knew that he would always be at the top of his class (he knew all the names of the planets, for crying out loud!)
· Swimming in the pool Grandma bought.
· Building tunnels in dirt in the back yard for Matchbox cars.
· Playing Legos
· John and Robbie playing with firecrackers and blowing up Amy’s toys.
· Going to the Dari Bar
· Building camps
· Loving Star Wars
· Reading lots of books
· Highlands High School
· Playing the guitar
· Having a band
· Competing in German at UK
· Getting Married

Well, John IS celebrating his 36th birthday today with his lovely wife Angie, and their two wonderful little boys, Jacob and Josh.

John is all grown up now, strong and independent. Still smart, reading lots of books, and yes, still loves Star Wars. And Tedwin now lives at his house...

Oh yeah, he is still just as cute and still has lots of hair...

Happy Birthday John! Love, MOM

The Raise

Tonight some friends and I got together to chat, relax and laugh. I reflected back to the experience I had when I asked our boss for a raise...

I came home and searched my computer for the following account I wrote the day I asked for "The Raise"...
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OK, I was really prepared... I had copies of all my exemplary evaluations, job descriptions, comparable job salaries, my last contract, the proposal from the Tech Dept. for new (higher) salaries for new jobs in my field, etc...

Several weeks before I had asked for an appointment with the new superintendent. The day scheduled had finally arrived. After waking up extra early, to get some last minute practice in on my dialogue, I finally got ready for work. I wore, what I think is, my prettiest blouse, worked on my hair and makeup and was ready to leave. On my way out the door, I spied a sleek, thin briefcase (one that Michael and Rachel play "Spy Kids" with - although I had no clue where they got it...) laying on the floor next to the couch. I knew I needed something a little more "business-like" (as opposed to the manila folder I had), to impress the boss. So, quickly I emptied their spy stuff and neatly put in my "documents", the ones that I was certain Mr. B would be impressed with.

The day went by fast as we were nearing 2:00 - the time Mr. B. would be seeing me eye-to-eye about my salary proposal. About 1:45, I took a quick peek in my mirror to notice a zit the size of Hawaii on my eyelid, out of all places! I started to apply my favorite shade of lipstick and stopped at the horror of a bleeding cold sore on my lower lip. Oh well... it was now time to leave. Help came to the computer lab to watch a class for me, but unfortunately by the time I made my way to the office, to use the new CheckIn/CheckOut system, it would not allow me to put my name in to check out.

Finally, I got out the door, with my smart little black briefcase filled with my "razzle dazzle" paperwork, and had to run two blocks down the street to my van. I drove as quickly as I could (without getting a ticket) to Central Office. I arrived at exactly 2:00 but still needed to park and get quickly to Mr. B's office. One last look in my rear view mirror and, well, let's just say, I was not feeling very "pretty." I ran up the street and up the front steps to Central Office - and did I mention that it was raining and very windy?! My hair was everywhere but I had no time left to stop and fix my wet, windblown hair...

Once inside, I ran, (not walked, not jogged) ran up, up those marble stairs. I made my way down the hall and Mr. B was waiting in his spacious office, sitting there cool as a cucumber, relaxed and in full control. I, on the other hand, was a wreck. I had no air in my lungs - probably on the verge of a stroke or worse, but I managed to smile and thank him for allowing me to come and talk to him. It was obvious I was struggling to breathe, so he casually mentioned that I should check out the new gym in the high school. "Sure", I told him, I was planning on that.... sure...right...

He immediately wanted to jump on the topic at hand, no other small talk, just, "Why are you here, Ruthie?"

I wanted to just sit there and try to get my breath back, but feeling the constraints of his schedule, I gasped for air as I tried to talk. All I needed now was an oxygen tank and the contents of my briefcase to begin my dissertation that I had practiced to perfection. I bent over to get my "paperwork" and smelled a gross smell, kind of like a damp basement, but stronger. Yep, it was the briefcase - and probably by now my papers smelled pretty stinky, too. I am sure Mr. B. had smelled the odor, as well. I noticed he sniffed several times with a puzzled look on his face as his eyes canvased the room.

Without air, in the stench of this briefcase, zits, cold sores, messy hair, I started to explain my case. Mr. B. immediately said that he did not want to see my papers. What? Excuse me? How could he mess up my speech with that unexpected line? With no props, I was lost. "What do you want, Ruth?" Mr. B. asked as he looked me square in the eyes.

All I could think of was, I want to breathe, and get the heck out of here! However, the words that did come out of my mouth was, "I want a raise!"

He looked at me and asked me again what I wanted. Hold on, I know I just blurted out what I wanted. OK, so I repeated what I wanted. He seemed more confused. So, for the third and final time, I repeated what I wanted - A RAISE! I saw him scribble, for a brief second, on a piece of paper... then he stood up and walked to the door.

"Hey, wait a minute here, Mr. B, I finally have air in my lungs, I am really ready to discuss this matter", I pointed out to him. But, he stood in the doorway as to tell me my time was up. No, "Thanks for coming Ruth", no, "I will think about it", no smile, no, anything. He just stood by the door. (I am pretty sure that he needed some fresh air by now.) I simply thanked him for his time and left.

I can't describe how humiliated I felt as I walked down those stupid marble steps. As I was ready to head for my van, for a quick cry, Mr. S., the new PR guy, stopped me and asked me to come in his office to talk about the new webpage. About 45 minutes later, he was finished, and I finally was on my way to my van, for that well-deserved cry. I fumbled with my stinky briefcase and to my surprise; my keys were not in it.

I slowly walked back to the PR guy's office and of course my keys were not there. I drug myself back up those marble stairs to Mr. B's office. By now he had a real customer in there. An impeccable looking businessman, with a real briefcase. I asked the secretary if she would discreetly check to see if my keys were still in the chair where I self-destructed. Not so discreetly, she yelled, "DID RUTH LEAVE HER KEYS IN HERE?! She handed me my keys...

NOW, even though I probably looked ridiculous to Mr. B., I am glad I went. Yes, you can say that I expanded my comfort zone. Yes, you can say that I learned a lot from going there. Oh, I definitely need to get more exercise. And in the future I need to leave the kids' props at home, even if they do look sleek. The good news here is this...I know that the Lord is in charge. If I am supposed to get a raise, the Lord will get it done. I did my part. The rest is up to Him. That is the way I like it.

And, I didn't even cry when I finally got to my van. I looked in the mirror and smiled.

Simple Sunday

It is a cold, January Sunday. Evening seems to fall too fast. There is only a sliver of sunlight slipping through a pine tree. A couple deer are standing in the field next to the house. Music* fills my mind with memories. The warmth of winter wine keeps me content.

A Friend's Home

One of my friends, a dear, wonderfully sweet friend, called this morning and asked if I wanted to come to her place for a holiday (although a little late) get-together. There was very little “pre-planning”, just a last minute gathering. Well, this is a friend that I think very highly of. She is probably one of the nicest people you would ever meet. So, I said sure. She told me that if I would like to bring anyone to do so, “the more, the merrier!”

At 7:00 PM, Amy and I hopped in the “family car” and drove to her home. My niece, Tricia, met us there. Her home was easy to find. It is quite a grand old building, over 150 years old. We entered the back door to be greeted with a big hug from my friend.

We took a quick tour of the building. The three of us were impressed with the tall ceilings and beautiful pocket doors and wood work throughout. The Christmas tree was small but looked so cheerful with miniature lights and ornaments so delicately hung. The walls were appointed with old artwork and huge mirrors. In the “family room” was a banquet of culinary delights. I am sure it was quite some “undertaking” to prepare such a feast.

There were already several guests gathered in the “parlor”. It was a very spacious room to visit with “old” friends. We stayed about two hours but to tell you the truth, the party seemed “dead”. So, we “departed” about 9 PM and headed for home.

Did I mention that my friend works for a funeral company? And, did I mention that my friend works from home?

Starbucks

I used to make fun of the pretentious yuppies that frequented Starbucks. To me, Starbucks was a modern place for “beatniks” to hang out and socialize. That was until a couple friends of mine invited me to join them one day after school.

I walked into Starbucks and took a good look around – yep, it looked like a hangout for misfits. The walls had a lot of weird pictures (“artists” of the week I supposed). The drink maker, oh yeah, called the “barista”, had spiked burgundy hair and mismatched clothing.

There we stood in line to order our drinks. No one warned me, you don’t just order a coffee; you have to learn a new language to order. I had no clue what was what. It was embarrassing trying to make sense of all too many choices; short, tall, Grande, Venti, iced, hot, single, double, Frappuccino, Macchiato, latte, light, whipped, skinny, etc. I even heard some patrons have the audacity to order their drink at a specified temperature! I gave up without a fight and had my friend order for me.

Another warning someone should have given me, once you order your drink, be alert. People will grab any random drink that is shouted out. Again, stay alert, because more than 1 person may have the same drink as you. Or, they may be like me, and not know what the heck they really ordered!

Another quick glance around the room and I spied a big, comfy looking chair. Ah, I felt comfortable in Starbuck’s at last. Then, conversation flowed between my friends and I. Two hours had flown by. It was nice to just sit and talk.

Well, I have been joining these ladies at Starbucks for about a year now. I am getting a little better about ordering - how about a Grande with Whip Mocha Frappuccino Light Blended Coffee for here? Honestly, I still don’t know what I am getting until the barista pushes the drink towards me.

The truth is that I am not there for the fancy drinks, nor the artistic expressions on the walls, but for me it is more about socializing with friends, relaxing and enjoying an Iced Venti Tazo® Shaken Iced Black Tea Lemonade sweetened with Splenda!

BTW, you don’t have to wear bongos, berets or dark glasses. Although I have been known to hear some poetry at Starbucks!