Hutch droppings

Back in the 80's my friend Steve found a plastic crucifix on top of a box, in someones garbage. He carried it a few blocks to my house where he placed in on the wall in the kitchen nook.

Steve laughed and said "I bet if you don't say anything to anyone that cross will stay there forever".

An idea popped into my head.

When Lisa and I purchased our first house in N. Babylon we were left with a few lawn Nomes. They were happy little ceramic creatures locked up in our shed. As I was tossing them in the garbage I thought "hey, this would look better on someones lawn". So I spent the next few weeks sneaking around at night and placing them on the property of unsuspecting relatives. Soon people were asking "Where did this come from? How did it get here?" We also had a spare one on our lawn. What secured my anonymity was the work of my Dad. He dropped one off for me at Diane's house when I was sick like a dog. Everyone knew I was sick and couldn't have gone out that night. Dad giggled like a kid when he explained his accomplishment as an accomplice.

Instead of going through people's garbage to find a random item I will venture to the dollar store and buy them by the dozen. When I'm invited over someones house I will discreetly decorate their house. Hopefully the item will never leave it's new home.

What I didn't account for was my children watching me drop off these beautiful works of art. They giggled as they looked at the new addition on the hutch.
They couldn't wait years for someone to discover the glass owl, or dark purple candle holder. They needed to share the joy immediately.

One Summer day Kristine was shopping in the Holbrook Dollar King. She screamed "Mom! This is where Uncle Jim gets all his supplies!"

So I'm no longer invited over people's houses unless I agree to a strip search upon arrival.

Out of order

In the middle of the night, when most are sleeping, my job is to repair elevators and, sometimes, remove trapped people from them.

On a warm December day in 1988, as a helper, I was sent to a 220 CPS to remove passengers from a stuck elevator. I went via subway with an older gentleman named Donald. Donald had pure white hair which, I assumed, was the color after gray. Donald later retired from two full time jobs. He was a Foreman at American Elevator and, at night, he worked for the MTA.

I held Donald's toolbox as we traveled underground. His toolbox was old too. The worn handle had been repaired many times.

Donald didn't talk much and walked slowly. In 1988 I haven't yet realize that my career-destiny was to fix elevators so I didn't have any interest in talking with him either.

As we emerged from the subway in Columbus Circle I could see the building we needed to get to just down the block. I walked slightly faster. Donald suddenly made a right turn into a deli! I asked "What about the people trapped?" He leaned over and said "They're safe in there. Let's get some coffee."

My addiction to coffee came years later. I got a small container of orange juice and waited for his eggs to cook. We went outside and sat on a bench in Central Park. I couldn't enjoy my oj. I was thinking about people across the street, down the block, stuck in an elevator.

When the right moment had come Donald slowly got up and I picked up his old tool box.

When we entered the lobby the super, Ramon, was standing there. "I just got them out" Ramon said.

Donald whispered to me "That's what we wanted. The building super or a Fireman can get them out. Let someone else be responsible for their safety. We just need to repair the metal junk in the shaft. And if we don't fix it someone else will. No pressure."

The lesson was easy. But I have yet to delay my journey to any elevator entrapment on purpose. During those moments before arrival, the coffee doesn't taste right.

Teenager gets warm welcome

13 years ago today I watched Lisa dress Megan for the first time. Megan was very patient with her as Lisa took her time being very careful. First the diaper (no pins!) then the funny shaped t-shirt with snaps on the bottom. An amazed nurse commented "She is being such a good baby".
Each morning when Megan woke up she would begin to talk to herself. Never crying. I would lie in bed with Lisa and listen to her sounds. Needing food and a diaper change, she was patient in getting attention.
On her first birthday Megan got a green wagon. Snow was on the ground as I pulled her around the neighborhood. We hit a small bump and Megan went backwards, landing face up in the cold snow. I took two steps backwards expecting to pick up a screaming child. Megan was silent. She was being patient with my inept wagon driving skills. A few seconds later we were making tracks in the snow once again.
When Megan hugs you she gently pats your back; she is consoling you. Her hugs have real feelings in them.
In Kindergarten Megan brought home a worksheet with a picture of a large animal. The letter Y was being learned. I thought the animal was a yak. It wasn't. It was an Ox wearing a yoke. When I couldn't think of the word 'yoke' Megan suggested we wait until Mommy comes home. "Are you saying Mommy is smarter than me?" I inquired. "Don't worry Daddy.... you're stronger" she replied. This ox laughed for a long time.
In 4th grade I watched Megan doing homework. For no reason, and without warning, she would jump up and do a cartwheel. Then sit back down to complete more homework. I was puzzeled by this action until I learned that the blood flow to the brain increases brain activity. I was learning from her, but I'am still uncapable of doing my own cartwheel.
Today I hope that Megan still has patience dealing with her parents as we are sure to make mistakes in her teenage years.