Focused at Fifty

Hercules the Spider I grew up in a home built in 1927 in Wenonah, NJ. I have fond memories of that house: it's creaking floors and stairs; the great big trees in the yard surrounding the house; the large wooden front door; the steep staircase and elegant wooden oak banister; the 70's style kitchen. There are just too many to list. Curiously, we also had a bunch of house spiders. Not too many, just here and there. They would hide out in the room corners of the 10 foot ceilings. The other evening I was in my current home in Lake Wynonah, PA , (yes basically same name, pretty ironic, huh?) and came across a VERY LARGE furry wolf spider. I was fascinated by it. He was by far the largest spider I have seen in the last couple years. This sucker was a good 1 1/2 inches across if not larger! He was pretty bold and didn't try to get away until actually went after him. And so I named the brave spider Hercules. I called to John who was in the next room to come and see this hug...

This blogpost is a bit sad and melancholy. As the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, arrives at sundown, so begins the 10 days of Atonement, culminated by the most sacred of Jewish holidays, Yom Kippur. After a day of fasting, we ask for forgiveness from G-d of our sins. We also say prayers to honor the departed in our lives, the Yizkor or the Kaddish. I guess that is one of the reasons I began to think about those that have passed on in my life. I was listening to CNN awhile back in which reporter Anderson Cooper was speaking about sadly losing the memory of people's voices as time moves on. I have been lucky enough to remember most of the voices of those that I was close with. His report got me thinking that we often remember people's faces and experiences with them, but how often do we actually try to remember our conversations with them and what they sounded like? One of negative aspects of growing older is that you start experiencing forgetfulness sometimes referred to as...

I came home one day from 1st grade in tears. My sister, Sheryl, 5 years older, came running over to me asking me what had happened. I started crying and related how a couple of big kids had come over and called me a bastard! I was so upset and I didn't even know what it meant! My sister hugged me and comforted me. She told me it was alright and that the word just meant 'bad man.'  Now ... the debate is still up in the air on whether my dear sister was merely trying to comfort me and steer me away from using the word OR she didn't know what the word meant herself. Sheryl is currently claiming ignorance of the entire event. Right .... LOL.  For those of you that don't have a 25 pound Webster's Dictionary lying about, the word 'bastard' traditionally means 'a person born of parents not married to each other.' I am, as the definition goes, not a bastard. I don't even think those mean older kids knew what it meant. Nevertheless, ...

A fellow old soul urged me to share something which has been on my mind as of late. His advice has always been sound and after some consideration, I decided to listen to him and write this post. By doing so, I am giving myself a bit of a kick in the ass to keep moving on with this passion of mine:  writing! I have come to a crossroads within my passion of writing. When I started this blog 5 years ago as almost an homage to my departed Mom, I wanted to document my life turning 40. I have notebooks filled with potential blog posts which I have not yet written. Some are just mere ideas or snippets of a memory. Others are fully fleshed out memories almost ready to post. They range anywhere from work, to play, to life, to relationships, to even a more private side of me that only close friends and family know. Some I may never publish, I am just not ready to get that personal with certain subjects in my life. Others are well ... LOL... just NOT...

Logo from CHP campaign I decided last week to conduct a very unscientific experiment and keep track of how many people I passed on my way to work who were either talking on their cell phones or seen obviously texting. There is room for error as some people may have been looking for someone's number on their phone. THIS, by the way, is not an acceptable excuse because you are still reading and scrolling through your phone's contacts while driving. Each day, I travel a pretty long commute from Schuylkill County to Allentown, the seat of Lehigh County, PA. It's about 40 miles, most of it on one major highway, Route 78 which is highly traveled by commuters and tractor trailers alike.  When I'm on Route 78, I travel with the speed of traffic. And by the way, I won't be divulging my rate of speed except it allows me to pass those in the slow lane.  :) I counted about 50 cars that I passed over the distance of 40 miles. Within those 50 cars, I counted...

Bobalu's Florida Keys One of Mom's favorite restaurants in the Florida Keys was Bobalu's Southern Cafe' on Big Coppitt Key on US Route 1. When she and my stepdad Barry lived in Key West, they would often go there for lunch. It was a favorite restaurant of mine as well when I would visit. I would always get their conch fritters and upon the urging of my Mom, it was the first place I ordered fried green tomatoes. Mom said she loved them and so did I. Bobalu's still exists and has been open for over 20 years. It has changed owners since Mom and Barry lived in the Keys but still has the great carefree Key West atmosphere which has attracted years and years of tourists and locals. Even though this recipe is technically an Amish  one, I still thought of Mom and the Florida Keys while making it. Now I can only surmise that Mom had chosen this recipe so she could make them on her own when she came up North to her home in Lake Wyononah. Well unfortunately she ne...

A summer pic-nic staple is the potato salad. It seems as if everyone's family has their own recipe. As with many of the recipes that I have posted, there are just so many variations out there. My mother's recipe is a family favorite and below, you will see that I have chosen to tweak it to suit my own tastes. I had always wanted to make potato salad and when I started this project, I was pretty excited to discover my Mom's recipe. She made this for our spring and summer pic-nics and barbecues. While preparing the ingredients, I have such a new found respect for my mother and sister Sheryl. It's not that it's hard or difficult, it is just a bit time consuming. And you gotta love a recipe with only four basic commands: boil, chop, mix, chill! In retrospect, it did seem like Mom was making it for hours in our 70's kitchen in my childhood home. Always chopping and mixing and then ordering us kids to get out of the kitchen. Like the previous recipe I posted for...