Derek's Christmas Memories

Today, Derek explained to me some of his family's Christmas traditions. On Christmas Eve, they always headed out for Chinese food, but during the first few years; Derek insisted on McDonald's. The only concession that he would make was to eat an egg roll. But as he got older, he found that he enjoyed Chinese food, too. In fact, he and Mike continued the tradition this year.

Christmas morning, Derek and Sean would wake up around 4:30 or so and peek downstairs to see if they could get a glimpse of the presents that they would soon open. There was a rule in the house that they had to wait until their parents woke up and from what Derek tells me, that wasn't always right at 4:30. To pass the time, he and Sean would meet in one of their rooms to guess what they were going to get that day.

Derek's most memorable present was the year that he received a go-kart when he was about twelve. He came downstairs thinking that he might not get it, but Tammie and Mike came through. They may have led him to believe that he was going to get a Barbie doll, but the go-kart was safely in the garage.

Each year, Sean and Derek received gifts at three different spots. First, they opened presents at home, then at Grandma and Grandpa Hachey's, and finally at Ma and Da Hastings. Christmas was very important to Tammie and Mike and they took pains to make everything special.

Winter's Day

I picked up Derek from my parent's home and decided to travel up to the Varsity for lunch of fantastic pizza. Later, we drove by homes that Tammie lived in before and after she got married.

This house on East Genesee St. in Syracuse is where Tammie and Sherry Martin roomed together back in 1979 - 80. At this point, Tammie was very much into the disco scene and trying to get through school.

Mike and Tammie's first apartment together in Solvay (the barn-shaped structure).

There was a bus stop right out front and as a result, people liked to congregate outside their first floor apartment. To deter them, Mike used to drop an occasional wad of tobacco on the stoop. I think it worked, too.

Hachdawg (Sean) lived in this home in Solvay for a time, before moving to Gloversville and later, Ravena New York. I remember going with Mike and Tammie to Twin Trees across the street. Fine eats!

Chicken Pie

When my mother was small, she and my grandparents would spend Christmas with my grandfather's family. The Swarthouts were a large family, and the day's meal was done in three seatings. From what my mom recalls, there were fourteen adults and fourteen children and the children ate first, the men second and the women last. I can imagine how my sister would have reacted to that, if she were in attendance.

My great-grandmother Swarthout (Ma) directed the meal and chicken pie was the primary dish and often she made two of them. In addition to the chicken pie, a turkey would be prepared and on occasion a duck for my great uncle, Lawrence. The Swarthouts were farmers and all of this poultry was readily available to them. Also, my mother remembers a tree filled with gifts and homemade crafts. Back then, there were no Kleenex or Puffs, so the gift of handkerchiefs was always welcomed. These could be very ornate and made nice Christmas ornaments. I trust that there were new ones on the tree each year.

Many years have passed since those times, but we still have chicken pie on Christmas. My grandmother picked up the recipe and made some delicious pies of her own (she always used bones to hold up the crust!) and now my mother prepares them. Tammie would help from time to time and there were years, that she made her own. Today, we will carry on the tradition and eat some chicken pie.

Mimi, we miss you this year! Looking forward to seeing you in the spring!

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and Tam, we miss you most of all.

Amazing Grace

The Night Before Christmas

Tammie seems distracted in this photo, but then Santa looks a little stunned. In fact, he almost seems frozen in time. I don't remember visiting Santa Claus in that little building, but years later it was left discarded behind Camillus Plaza and I would always ask my mother to drive by it. I can just imagine how many young people met Santa for the first time there and the tiny house always fascinated me.

Christmas Eve is certainly not the same this year, but it does bring me back to very happy times and magical nights. I can remember the excitement that Tammie and I both shared and the times when my Dad would read "Twas the Night Before Christmas." Right before bedtime, we would put our stockings out in my parent's living room with the hopes that we would receive a visit that night. I remember thinking that Santa might not come, because we had this birdcage looking thing covering our chimney and we didn't have a fireplace for the stockings. Instead, we each had a favorite chair that we would place them on.

At some point, my mother would insist that we go to bed or Santa might not come and I can recall being so excited that it was very difficult to sleep. Somewhere around 5:00 AM, I would get up and go looking for my sister and parents. Usually, I had already sneaked into the living room and seen my stocking stuffed with my favorite candies. Man, I still can't lay off those miniature chocolate santas!

Also, I remember my sister telling me all about Santa Claus and how she had gotten up in the night one year and actually seen him with her own eyes. She was a very descriptive person and it seemed so real to me. Tonight, I had moments were I was as distracted as Tammie seemed in the picture. I was in the present, but my mind was off somewhere in the distant past. Thank you Tammie for those magical nights and for my wonderful memories.

Chasing

I just finished reading a young adult book called Chasing Redbird by Sharon Creech. In the book, Zinnia Taylor, the thirteen-year-old main character, struggles to deal with the death of a young cousin and years later, that of a favorite aunt. Along the way, she rediscovers an historic trail that winds from her home to a neighboring town and she spends a summer trying to excavate and restore it. The title of the book comes from her uncle's constant search through the fields and woods surrounding his home for his dead wife and for Zinnia's personal search as exhibited by her quest to unearth this trail. Her aunt wasn't a bird of course, but she did have red hair.

This past week, I was on vacation from work and I spent that time running, eating too much, and trying to sort out issues in my life. Along the way, I also rediscovered a few historic sites. First, I found pillars that are all that remain from an Onondaga Lake resort, an abandoned Erie Canal lock, and the remains of Syracuse's first airport.

Pillars from Pleasant Beach dock at Onondaga Lake

Gere Lock in Camillus

Old Syracuse Municipal Airport

Funny, but I started this book during my vacation and unbeknownst to me my life has somewhat paralleled the story. 2009 was a year of tremendous change and personal challenge for me and that was even before Tammie became sick and passed away. This blog has helped me to chase my own "redbird" and I am afraid that I have a long way to go before I catch her.

Mimi's Birthday

Cousin, Chris and "little" Sean, Mom, Mimi, "tiny" Derek, Brenda and Tam (I inadvertently cut myself out of this one)

Today is my grandmother's birthday. For years, we were never too sure of her age, but we are fairly certain that she turned ninety-nine, today. Years ago, I remember my Aunt Brenda telling a story about Mimi and how the people that worked with Mimi were determined to find out how old she was (She worked until she was 91!). They decided that they were going to go up into the cemetery and look for the stone that my grandmother had purchased for my deceased grandfather and herself. Their assumption was that there would be birth dates on the stone. Unfortunately, my grandmother outsmarted them all, as they would only find the names and the year of my grandfather's death.

From what I have heard, Mimi has had a tough go of things since my sister's death. Tammie used to call her every Sunday and the two would swap stories and I am sure that Tam probably shocked her a few times along the way. Although, that wasn't the case back in the beginning of October of this year, when Tammie was very sick and not always coherent. My grandmother was reluctant to talk to Tammie on the phone and as a result, she hadn't spoken to her since Tam had entered hospice. One day when my family and I were visiting, my grandmother called my mom's cellphone to ask about Tammie's condition. Now most of the visit, Tammie was entertaining us with some very colorful comments and was displaying just a glimmer of her former self.

As my mother spoke, I just had a feeling that this might be the last opportunity that Mimi would have to speak to her granddaughter. I interrupted the conversation to ask my mother if I could have the phone. She checked first with my grandmother and then I picked up the little cellphone and walked over to my sister. At this point, my sister had difficulty using her left hand and I placed it in her right hand and stood there in case she had trouble holding it. Tam seemed lucid for those few moments and the two carried on a very nice conversation. During that time, Tammie did not make one off-color or inappropriate remark. The phone conversation ended and I gave my mother back the phone, as Tammie explained to us that she had been good and didn't say "%*$& and @*%$#" to her grandmother.

Mimi and Tammie were two of the strongest personalities in our family. Despite that, they rarely clashed and had a wonderfully close relationship. My grandmother at this moment, is in a nursing home. I spoke with her today on her birthday and we had a short but sweet conversation. We talked about the Buffalo Bills, basketball and gifts that she had received. At the end, I expressed a hope that we would see her in Camillus in the spring, as this is the first time in several years that she has not been able to make it to my parent's home for Christmas. Mimi, we love you!

My grandmother used to sing this song to my mother when she was small and later, my mother sang it to Tammie and me. Who knew that Mimi was a Mizzou fan? and that it's Missouri's state song? Had trouble finding a good version but here are some other takes: Mizzou Marching Band and an Mizzou Men's A Cappella group.

Funny Face

Sean, Tammie and Derek

I was looking at this picture and I had to lighten it up a bit just to see her face. My parents have a big red maple tree to the left of where the picture was taken and it makes the yard so shady. I love how Tammie has this crazy look on her face and how little Sean is trying to immitate it. People who know me, might recall me making a similar face at times. Well, I stole the idea from Tam. She was so much fun sometimes and she had a sense of humor that just pushed limits. I can see that in her boys, as they also can be very funny.

Tonight, I was looking at Tam's Facebook page and she listed under her activities: fun, fun, fun. That pretty much sums her up, as she was all about that. I guess that is one of the things I miss the most about her. She was someone that you could be so silly with and share some great laughs.

The other night, I found myself taking a bunch of teens to the New Moon film and my mind started wandering near the end of it. Things became funny that shouldn't have been and just like in days past with my sister; I started laughing uncontrollably. Why I thought two vampire types fighting was hilarious is beyond me, but it was the first real belly laugh that I have had in years. Tam never got to the point where she took herself too seriously and that is what I have to relearn.

Here is a show and performer that she regularly laughed at. She would just lose it, when Dolly came down on that swing.

Little Things at Christmas

I went over to my mother and father's home armed with my favorite Christmas film, The Homecoming. Back in 1972 (about the time that these crazy "people" were coming door to door), my mom told us about this great tv movie that would be airing on CBS and that we all needed to watch it. I had no idea that we would all love it so much. In fact, years later they would show it on Christmas Eve and it never seemed to disappoint. When they finally stopped airing it, I purchased a copy from Amazon and we continued to watch it every year. After the success of this movie, CBS developed The Waltons television program and the rest is history. Of course, there was Spencer's Mountain before that, but who wants to get into that.

As you know, my mother grew up in Wellsville in the Southern Tier of New York State. Wellsville has always reminded me of the fictional Walton's Mountain. Both areas are very rural and have beautiful hills and my family had interesting characters just like on the television show. After watching these Waltons for so many years, I decided to read some of Earl Hamner's books and was a bit disappointed with The Homecoming. In the book, Clay Spencer seemed to be a bit of a drunk and Clay Boy was given the task of tracking him down. The first place that he looked was Ike Godsey's place. Now, Godsey seemed to be running a pool hall/saloon and Clay Boy's mother just figured that her husband was a little "under the weather" at Ike's. Well, the movie and tv show differ here a bit and on tv, Ike runs a general store.

Tammie loved this film and all of the Hacheys and Hastings would pack into my parent's family room and watch this masterpiece each year at Christmas. This year it was a bit tough to watch without my sister, but it certainly brought back great memories. I still look for my sister when I am over there and am always thinking of things to tell her. She would have loved watching the movie with us tonight and would have made the same jokes about it that she made for thirty six years. I can tell you that we always laughed, because she was damn funny!

Miracle in the barn

Christmas Memories Pt. 1

We always enjoyed Christmas time in our house. Like a lot of young people, Tammie and I looked forward to the Sears Christmas Catalog and flipping through it for toys that we just had to have. My mom would tell us to find three toys that we really wanted and circle them in the catalog. I can tell you that this was not an easy task, as I wanted just about everything that I saw. One of my all-time favorite gifts was a train set that I received when I was eleven. That was the year of the Bicentennial and I was so happy to get the Spirit of '76 HO Scale set. I loved that train, but the brass HO tracks were hard to keep clean and somewhere along the way I inadvertently blew out its tiny engine. As usual, my limited skills did more damage to it in the attempted repair and it never ran again.

I don't really have a recollection of Tammie going to see Santa with me, but I certainly remember my solo visits. Usually, I would have to walk around the store with my mom a few times, before I gathered up the courage to speak with him. I was never too comfortable with this process, so I always brought a list that I had prepared a head of time. Once I found the courage, I would walk up and hand him the list and then be done with it. I suppose the list system worked as I think that I always got what I asked for.

My mother would keep a calendar for each of us during December and would award us a star if we were good on a particular day. We knew what we had to do, so we rarely missed getting a star. Of course, there was the one time when we must have gotten into some massive argument and my mom made it clear that there was no chance for redemption that day. I can assure you that it was a rarity, though. Our eyes were clearly on Christmas day and the presents that we expected to receive.

Church was also a big part of our growing up and we enjoyed the Christmas Eve candlelight service. From the time that we were quite small, we went to Immanuel Methodist Church in Camillus and for a large part of that time our minister was Leonard B. "Eli" Whitney. He had such a loud, booming voice and made every church service extra special. At Christmas time, our church would have two huge trees in the sanctuary and both were beautifully decorated. One of them would always have colorful lights on it, while the other had no lights, but wonderful cloth ornaments. Tammie and I enjoyed looking at these trees and participating in the special night.

During the service, the last advent candle would be lighted and we would sing these great Christmas hymns. The last of which, was Silent Night. Candles were passed out to the attendees and the ushers would come down the aisle and light the ones closest to the aisle. Slowly, each person would pass their light to the next until every candle was lit. I remember that our church had large globe lights hanging down from the ceiling and Reverend Whitney would instruct us to bring the lit candles up and down and to watch the light reflect off of these globes.

In addition to these special services, Tammie and I were in a couple of Christmas plays. One year, we both played angels and my mother made these elaborate costumes that included halos. I was small and not much of an actor, but I did secure the important role of Assistant Time Keeper. Basically, it was my job to hold the ladder for the Time Keeper who then climbed up and changed the hands of the clock. I didn't know that angels had clocks, but they certainly did in this production. To be honest, I don't recall Tammie's role in the play, but she did make a pretty convincing looking angel.

Every year, my parents made Christmas special for us. We enjoyed getting our tree from the church sale and decorating it while the King Family, Andy, Bob or Bing specials were playing on television and we sure had fun looking at all of the lights that our neighbors displayed each year. Orchard Village (a neighborhood tract in Camillus) held a yearly competition and that neighborhood was a favorite drive during Christmas. I certainly miss those days and getting up on Christmas morning to open our stockings upstairs and then going downstairs to open the really big presents. I am so glad for those memories with my Mom, Dad, and Tam.

My sister portrayed an angel in the play that year many years ago and I am sure is doing the same now in Heaven. Recently, my parents put up their trees and collection of outside decorations. This year they added a special new figure to their outside display. In memory of my sister, there is a brand new lighted angel on the front lawn.

Happy Birthday, Mimi

The "People"

I was talking to my mother tonight and reminiscing about Christmases past. I remember playing kiddles and flatsies with my sister in her room one night and my mother coming in and warning us about the "People" and that we would have to turn off the lights and hide. Now, I rarely played anything with my sister, because I often drove her crazy and either I or an object would come flying out of whichever room that we chose to play in. When we neared Christmas, however, we tended to get along better and this is probably the reason that we were together on this particular night. The "People" only came through our neighborhood for three years, but for me I don't recall anything approaching that excitement.

The "People" were a group of choraliers that may or may not have been affiliated with a church of some kind. They had loud speakers mounted to their cars or vans and drove through the streets of our neighborhood with Christmas carols blaring. According to my mother, she opened the door to them one year and they had wads of bills in their hands and were asking for even more. She thought it strange and closed the door to them. The next year, she was ready and when she heard the music she gathered up Tammie and I and we hid in the dark. We sat quietly as the music became louder and louder and the headlights drove up to our house. Suddenly, there was a loud bang at the door and several rings of the doorbell. The tension was excrutiating, as we waited for these intruders to give up and head off down the street. Eventually, we heard some loud voices and the stomping of feet and they were gone.

The next year they returned again and we resumed our tactic of hiding in the dark. This time my father was coming home with a Christmas tree and we feared for his safety. Dad drove up just as the faux choraliers were approaching our front door. He started to pull up the driveway, but then he noticed that they were the infamous "People". He threw the car into reverse and hurriedly backed down the street and drove around the block until they were gone. As odd as this all seems, Tammie and I so looked forward to the return of these strangers. In fact, sometimes, I would plead with my mother to reenact this excitement and play the "People are coming" with Tammie and me. Unfortunately for us, they only came by those three years.

Joy to the World! (A favorite of the "People")

The Paranormal

For years, Amy and Tammie enjoyed watching ghost shows. I think that their favorite was always the Ghost Hunters on the Syfy Network (which used to be the SciFi Network, but evidently people were confused and thought it the She Fee Network. In any event, the name was changed and it really doesn't matter.) The Ghost Hunters show started out with these two Roto-Rooter plumbers who unclogged drains by day and worked as paranormal investigators by night. I am not sure that they have ever truly encountered a ghost, but it is a fun show to watch.

In almost every episode, the plumbers try to interact with the ghosts through a series of questions, such as: Is there any one here with us? Could you make a noise? Could you move this object? They record everything with these digital voice recorders and then spend "hours" looking at the evidence in a hotel room or a construction trailer. The plumbers have several assistants and these assistants help them to comb through the "massive evidence".

Currently, they employ a gruff, but highly-trained, heavily tattooed gentleman to supervise this process. This fellow is not afraid of anything; except flying in an airplane, bats, heights and I believe spiders. If he hops on a plane or sees one of these creatures, he becomes hysterical and is useless for a sustained period of time. Most times though, he is just gruff and lovable and works tirelessly. Often, he will discover a voice anomaly and then eagerly highlight these supposed sounds and bring them to the plumbers for confirmation. I always have to struggle to hear these whispered sounds and they rarely make sense to me. For instance, the "I am not guilty." of a recent show, sounded a lot like indigestion, but I am not a trained investigator and we have a Curtis Mathes TV with limited audio accessories.

Just after Tammie's funeral, I was at my parent's home and I went into my old bedroom (which was Tammie's bedroom before that). When I walked into the room, I believed that I felt something tug on my pant leg and I looked down, but saw nothing there. I kind of laughed it off, but decided to ask if the "presence" could move a hanger that was on a stepladder in the room. I asked this question several times, but nothing happened. Eventually, I smiled and headed back to the living room to be with the rest of my family.

I went home that night and the next morning, Amy woke me up to show me an odd angled wire hangar in her closet. At first glance, it seemed to be hanging in mid-air and I guessed that it probably fell down at some point in the night and got stuck on some clothes. A few days after that episode, my parents both claimed to see an apparition in their bedroom. They had separate encounters and at completely different times. They both described this figure as a woman that resembled Tammie. I suppose this is a way that people deal with a passing and it might just be a part of the grieving process, but we all thought it quite unusual.

I don't really believe in the paranormal, but I do still feel my sister's presence at times. Most often, this will occur when I think of something funny and want to share it with her. From the time we were children, we enjoyed telling stories and making each other laugh. Perhaps, these "ghostly" encounters are a result of our immense longing for her. Unfortunately, we have had just a few of these experiences and most of those occurred only a few days after Tammie's funeral.

Watermelon Rind Part 2.

I have had a few Thanksgivings without my sister, but not many. In 1996, she even rode down to Raleigh, NC with the rest of my family (Mike, Sean, Derek, Mom and Dad) to be with us on Turkey Day. Yesterday, I had trouble realizing that we would never again have a chance to share that holiday with her. Though, I was so happy to have Sean, Lindsay and Mike at our home this year. We will be forever grateful for how they visited and cared for my sister during those difficult final weeks.

This year, we did indeed have some watermelon rind and I made sure to have a couple of helpings. Come to find out, Mike told me that he wasn't sure that Tam even liked it. As my mom points out, Tam was such a traditionalist that she probably insisted on us having watermelon rind, because we had seemingly always had it. Oh well, I downed a bit of that slimy stuff anyway. Actually, it wasn't all that bad.

Normally at about this time of year, I start to make plans to go down to Wellsville and bring my grandmother back to Camillus for Christmas. My friend, Sean and I like to make this yearly trip and stop off at the Texas Hot, before we wind our way over to Mimi's. Unfortunately, I don't believe that is going to happen this year. My grandmother recently entered a nursing home after a particularly difficult time and is trying to rehabilitate herself before returning to her home. She and Tammie were quite close and I am afraid that Tammie's passing has had quite an effect on her. Let's hope that she gets better soon!

We Remembered the Watermelon Rind

Recently, Thanksgiving has meant a run in the morning in Baldwinsville and watching football in the afternoon. For some reason, I actually root for the Cowboys on Thanksgiving now and this, from a guy who absolutely despised "America's Team" growing up. I could not stand the then novel, "Shotgun Formation" that they employed on offense, nor their squeaky clean quarterback, Roger Staubach. Year after year, I would watch that guy go untouched in that Shotgun, as they defeated some hapless team. I much preferred the guys with all the charisma. People such as "Broadway Joe" Namath and Kenny "the Snake" Stabler. Thanksgiving has changed a lot for me over the years.

Most of the time, Thanksgiving was all about the food. My mother would put together this fabulous spread of turkey, stuffing, mash potatoes and gravy, squash, cranberry sauce, sherbet, and Tammie's favorite, watermelon rind. For me, that stuff was all mushy, icky, and tasted a bit tart. I thought it might work as a hair gel, but didn't see it as something edible. I much preferred the known quantities, items like mash potatoes and gravy, squash and turkey. By the way, all of this delicious food was displayed on my mother's Gliddenware. My mother attended Alfred and they were quite well known for these ceramics. In any event, Tammie and I always seemed to see things a bit differently and watermelon rind was just one small example.

Since her passing, however, I have found that we were more similar than I would have ever imagined. She battled her whole life to do things in a manner that would allow her to succeed on her own terms and I am going to find a way; you'll see. For now, I am going to fill up on watermelon rind.

Little Lady in Red

I like this photo of my sister. There is another photo that I didn't choose to scan of myself from this same time. I was wearing a brown vest with little fringe on the bottom and I had this scar on my lip where I burned myself with a stick. Our neighbors had a cookout and we had roasted marshmallows on a stick and for some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to bring the lighted end of the stick up to my mouth. Turns out, I was wrong.

I guess that I like this photo so much, because it is reminiscent of a time in my life where my sister was my unconditional protector. When I was a kid, I had three favorite football teams. They were the New York Jets, the Cleveland Browns and the Oakland Raiders. I decided to start rooting for the Raiders, because the other teams were soooo hideously bad! As a result of their ineptitude, I was picked on a bit by my classmates. The young people seem to especially despise the Browns ( I won't go into their reasons here). My sister gave me little lines to use in combating these punks and they seemed slightly effective. The only line that I remember now is, "Whatever gets you through the night." After hearing that comment, there was some initial confusion in their tiny minds, but eventually the punks would start again with the derogatory comments. Quick retorts like that one, however, gave me a brief respite.

Then there was time that I now refer to as "The Memorial Day Flag Incident". During the Camillus Memorial Day Parade, they used to hand out these tiny flags to all the little children that were present. I remember getting one and being so proud. When I returned home, I proudly waved it, marched around and pretended that I was in some sort of military color guard. One of my little neighbors that didn't attend the parade was extremely enamored with this miniature Old Glory and she begged me to give it to her and was teary-eyed when I refused.

Moments after our initial confrontation, I was distracted with yet another game of "Guns" and left the flag on the hood of my neighbor's 50's era Plymouth station wagon. When I returned for the flag, it was in the hands of the pint-sized neighbor girl. I asked for it back, but she refused. Soon it became a real blowout, as her mother insisted that it truly belonged to the girl and that I was mistaken. There was a lot of screaming and crying and the incident became a large heated mess. Of course, she was wrong and I wasn't (I still hold to this 38 years later!). I was extremely upset, but I didn't know who to turn to. Of course, my big sister knew right away what needed to be done.

Back then, people had a tradition of putting these tiny flags all over the front edge of their property. One of our neighbors had placed about a fifteen of them out in their lawn and it really looked a bit like the Arlington Cemetery. Well, the fact that her brother had his flag "borrowed" in such a manner, enraged Tammie. She stormed to the neighbors display of flags and pulled them up one by one out of the ground. She must have had all fifteen flags in her arms. Soon these flags were flying at the mother and daughter flag "thieves" and Tammie shouted a few choice words that included "Why don't you take these, too!" She then grabbed me by the arm and took me back across the street and to safety.

Today was a rough day for me. As has been the case over the last seventeen days, I have been thinking about how unbelievable it is that Tammie is gone. In addition, I felt a bit abandoned at work. This has been an ongoing trend for a couple of years there, but it dawned on me that this is probably just another example of human nature. Most people will speak up if they are directly affected, but very few will stick their necks out for someone other than themselves. I guess that is human nature, but as anyone who knew Tammie will tell you, it wasn't hers. She was absolutely one of a kind.

Little song that reminds me of her

Lindsay's Memories

October 29, 2009, I stood in front of the crowd gathering at Tammie’s wake and I realized that out of the dozens of people who showed up to celebrate her life, I had known her the shortest length of time. Her family, friends, colleagues, and associates filtered through the door sharing their most cherished memories. I realize that not having her in my life longer than I did was truly my loss.

My first meeting with Tammie was on April 20, 2008. It was Sean’s 25th birthday. My meeting with her was unplanned. It was the first time I had met Sean in person, too.

As you may or may not know, we met on the Internet. Facebook to be exact.
So I met Tam in April and I didn’t see her again until August. I spent that summer in Virginia. Upon my return, Sean and I began dating. We didn’t think much about how little time he was spending with his mom until she added a picture to MySpace captioned, “The reason I never see Sean anymore.” It was a picture of us.
I knew something had to change.

Sometime last fall we began visiting her at her apartment in Watervliet one night every couple of weeks. We’d have pizza and watch movies. These nights continued for about three or four months. We tried to visit as often as possible, but sometimes unfortunate Albany weather stood in our way. It was obvious that both Sean and his mom were disappointed when plans fell through. You see, from the first time I saw them interact I knew they had a very loving relationship. He made it known that she was his number one woman. He was her best friend. And I was OK with that.

Unfortunately circumstances began to unfold in early 2009. You might be aware of the situations, but if you’re not, all I’ll say is she was living back in Ravena by the time spring rolled around. So she was my next door neighbor now. I had moved away from my family in 2007 when I came to college. Our relationship was, and is, still strong, but my mom wasn’t physically present in my life like a mom generally is by no fault of her own. But Tam still filled that void in my life.

For Easter I went with her and Sean to visit her parents in Syracuse.Their house was so warm and welcoming -- I felt like family from the start. I’ve began to love Ma and Da as if they’re my own grandparents. And Ma, don’t worry about the sheets. And Da, I’ll send you updates on Sean -- don’t worry.

I remember giving Tammie flowers on her birthday and on Mother’s Day. They are only a couple weeks apart, but I had no one else I could give flowers to. Sean is great, but I don’t think he’s the flower type. I remembering cooking dinner for us and her helping me with the directions. I’ve never been much of a chef.
I remember weekends we’d just hang around the house and talk and gossip. We’re both girls after all! And I remember a week straight of helping her move out of her apartment. She had to be out by 12 AM on June 1. May 31 at 11:40 we shoved the last piece of furniture in her car and hit the road.

In mid-July I attended the most celebrated tradition in Tam’s family -- The Wellsville Balloon Rally -- a celebration they’ve been going to for years and years. Although situations arose that were less than ideal, I’m grateful that I was able to experience this with her and family.

The time after we returned from Wellsville was rocky. Tammie’s health was declining, though none of us knew what was wrong. Through it all, Sean proved dedicated to his mom. He brought her food and sometimes even hand-fed it to her. In early September he told me that he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with the situation. No one knew it was as bad as it really was. The day after Labor Day -- the 8th -- she was to attend a doctor’s appointment. From what I understand she was then instructed to go to the emergency room. She was admitted that night. No one knew she’d never be coming back home.

In the coming weeks she was diagnosed with cancer and was admitted to the hospice in Albany. Me, Sean, and Mike began visiting her in her room every day. We brought her whatever food or drink she wanted. It was painful watching her lie in her bed and ask to come home. What do you say to someone in a situation like that?
The weeks dragged and flew by at the same time. Her health was, what appeared to be, a roller coaster. Some days she sat up and carried on a conversation with everyone in the room and others she did little more than mumble “chocolate milk” -- something that didn’t change with her health.

September passed and October arrived. We had to renew our parking permit for the hospital garage. That was a good sign. Then we got to the heart of October. It was clear she was going downhill. The majority of conversation stopped and by the 20th or so was almost completely gone. And then the 25th came. It was just like any other day. I went to work in the afternoon. Sean went at night. And then she went. I wasn’t there, but I imagine it was peaceful and she looked beautiful the whole time. That was two weeks ago, today, and we’re all trying to get ourselves back on track.

To all her friends and family: I know it’ll never be the same. And to Tammie (Mom #2): I got your best friend now -- I’ll never let anything happen to him. I’ll keep him in my arms forever. Don’t worry.

Vacations Part 2

Earlier I made a post about our family vacations. My father was a bit particular about our trailer and had certain rules that we had to follow to keep its resale value intact. In addition, my mother didn't always appreciate my father's unconventional driving style and my sister got car sick when riding in the back seat. As a result, we often took two cars on trips to accommodate everyone.

There was a fatal flaw to this two-car theory, though, as we were forever getting separated. At several points in these trips, my father would "accidently" lose my mother and be "off to the races" He disdained maps and asking for directions and instead relied on numerous "shortcuts" and back roads. Despite the certainty of getting lost, my mother would dutifully start out our vacations by attempting to follow him. This made for some funny stories, as exhibited by Tam in the following video:

The Old Neighborhood

1970 seemed like a good year to me.

Canadian TV

I was running a race in Geddes, NY today and carried along a little angel figure that Tammie had given me years ago. As usual, I ran the race with my great friend, Sean. Although he rarely uses that name when he runs and instead, was looking for an assumed name to use. After some thought, I suggested Joe Mufferaw. Big Joe was and is the Canadian version of Paul Bunyan.

Recently, I discovered this Canadian songster named Stompin' Tom Collins and he has this crazy song about Big Joe Mufferaw. Sean as Big Joe seemed very funny to me and as far as I was concerned, he just had to run under that name. Listening to Stompin' Tom got me thinking to all these Canadian shows that Tammie and I used to watch as kids. We were so excited when my parents got cable in 1976 and fortunately for us, the package included a televsion channel from Kingston, Ontario (CKWS).

There were two shows in particular that we would just love to watch. The first was a national show called Mr. Dressup. The star of the show was Ernie Coombs, who was the Canadian version of Mr. Rogers and in fact, worked with Fred Rogers years ago in Canada. Mr. Dressup was famous for its puppets; Casey ( a small red-headed boy with a high-pitched voice) and Finnegan ( a dog who talked in whispers) were the most well-known. I am sure that this was supposed to be a serious show, but Tammie and I would be laughing from the theme song.

The other show was called Harrigan and was locally produced in Kingston. I mostly remember Tammie and I watching this program around Christmas. During this time, Harrigan would have several tables set-up in a large room surrounded by a bunch of children who were coloring and drawing and waiting for a chance to speak with Santa Clause. Harrigan would be trying to organize things and find kids that really and truly wanted to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas.

Despite his best efforts, these kids invariably would get stage fright and completely freeze on-camera. By the end of the show, Harrigan would be pleading with the kids to say something when they got up there with Santa. He was on the verge of completely losing it when the show would end and he would have to sing his silly Harrigan song and do an Irish jig. The guy was so frustrated and furious, but being a professional, he found a way to pull it together for the closing number. Tammie and I would laugh so hard, that we could barely breathe.

In later years, we would talk about these crazy shows and remember the laughter. I loved laughing with Tam.

Trapped in a Foxhole?

I love the NY Yankees and have since my mother told me about Babe Ruth when I was a very little kid. When I was eight, she bought me a baseball hat with the N and Y on it, and I wore it constantly. I couldn't get enough of that hat! Somewhere around October of 1973, though, I realized that it was actually a NY Met hat, but that isn't important!

The Yankees have their own broadcast network called the YES network. Most of the time, they replay old Yankees games (all Yankee victories; no place for losses on their own network!) and something called the Yankeeography. Basically, anyone that played for the Yankees gets one of these. The narrator talks incessantly about the subject and you learn where the ballplayer was born, where he played high school ball and most importantly, what he did to beat the hated Red Sox. Most people couldn't change the channel fast enough, but I endure.

Now, one of the best shows on the network is something called CenterStage. Michael Kay hosts this show and his guests are mostly sports figures, but occasionally you will see people famous for other reasons. In fact, Paul Simon was one of his best guests. Near the end of the show, Mr. Kay asks five personal questions of the guest in a segment that he calls, Hit and Run.

The last question in Hit and Run is "If you were trapped in a foxhole, which person would you want in there to help you get out?" For me, Tammie would be a pretty fair answer to this question. She was a very determined person who could be extremely tenacious when she really wanted something. Also, she always made me laugh and was one of the funniest people that I have ever known. I think that you need a few belly laughs when you're up against it! Lastly, she loved and cared for me very much and she proved it from the day I was born.

Bright Eyes

Amy's Memorial

Tammie,

These pictures are my memorial to you. Each one holds a special meaning for me, your Mom, Dad, Billy, Mike, Sean, and Derek. I have seen many of these pictures of you over the years and heard all the stories they represent. All the special moments in your life. From the time you were born with your Mom and Dad holding you to all the wonderful memories we shared at the Balloon Rally. As I put together this pictorial history of your life, one thing kept repeating over and over again. That big, beautiful smile.

Tammie, thank you for sharing your life with me and making me smile. I will miss you, and the joy and laughter that you filled my life with. I love you Sis!

Amy

Love You, Tam

My Great-Grandmother Meg used to say that at the time of death, a guardian angel will come down from heaven to escort a dying person to their new home. According to my mother, Meg described this angel as being a deceased loved one. The two would then walk up a golden staircase and live in a heaven filled with mansions.

I know that my sister is with Meg now and that they are probably playing dominoes again, drinking tea, eating shortbread cookies and singing Oats, Peas, Beans, and Barley Grow.

Knowing my sister, she might be looking down right now and laughing at her little brother and the harp rendition of Oats, Peas, Beans and Barley Grow. In that case, I remember her coming to the NYS Fair a few times to listen to this guy

The Pasture

Growing up, there was a place behind my parent's home called Christmas Tree Hill. All the neighborhood kids were aware of it and below the pine trees was this vast and steep area that was known as the "Dugout". I have no idea why there was this area in the middle of our neighborhood tract, but for me, it was made for adventure. My friend Richard and I used to climb up on the "Dugout" and he knew a place where there were underground springs. At least, that's what he called them. We would put sticks into the ground and then return a few days later and see crystal, clear water bubbling out of the holes. In the winter, we would travel above the "Dugout" and into the pine trees and track deer and rabbits. I cannot tell you how much fun that was.

This was a magical place for me and I often would look up at the hill at night and watch the sunset over the trees. In winter, the trees looked so beautiful under the snow. You could see the entire town of Camillus from its heights and even as far away as Onondaga Lake. My sister first introduced Christmas Tree Hill to me and showed me a very special place within its environs. After walking for sometime, we came upon a pasture in the woods. There were rabbits running around and birds in the sky, and it seemed that it was our own special place. A refuge from the dusty roads and noise of our neighborhood. The air was fresh and the pasture was peaceful and quiet. Nearby, there was a small red hut that someone had decorated with paisley flowers and smiley faces (It was the Seventies!). Clearly this was our own piece of heaven amongst the ranch homes of our neighborhood.

I know that my sister is failing now and that her breathing is becoming more and more labored. I still hold out hope and do not want to think of what is considered inevitable, but sometimes reality sets in. I pray that after her struggle is complete that she finds someplace as wonderful as the pasture of our youth.

Balloon Over the House!

Every year, my family goes to the balloon rally in Wellsville, NY. This year was no different and Tammie was there as usual. I just cannot imagine going to a balloon rally without her. I just can't see it.

Our family has changed a lot over the years and many of us have grown apart, but we could always count on our get-together in that little town in the Southern Tier.

For the first time that I can remember, a balloon went directly over my grandmother's home and landed in her next-door neighbor's yard. We all got to see it land; up close and personal. I am so glad that Tammie was there to see it. For some reason, I had this overpowering feeling that this would be our last balloon rally. I pray that I am wrong.

After the weekend was over, we headed home and vowed to meet again next year. My grandmother is two months shy of 99-years-old and I really thought that she wouldn't be able to accommodate us again. I never dreamed that it would be Tammie that might not be able to attend another rally.

Today, I drove by Mac's Drive-In in Waterloo, NY. Mac's is closed for the season, but I can still see my family gathered around a picnic table there, downing some various fried items in the hot July sun. You see, we always stop there on our way back from Wellsville.

Tam Terrific

Here's to Life

Thank you, Sis

An Interview with my Mom and Dad

My mother drove out to the airport one day in 1960 to tell my father some important news. Back then, my father had a very large territory that required him to travel as far away as Maine. He came in that day all worked up about his day and the events that had occurred, and according to my mother, he "was talking a mile a minute". Finally, she blurted out that she was expecting a baby. Eventually, they would discover that Tammie was due on May 1, 1961 and unlike her brother who was three weeks late, she arrived exactly on the due date.

Tammie was born in Syracuse Memorial Hospital and was delivered by Dr. Philip L Ferro. About a year ago, I met Dr. Ferro in an elevator and introduced myself. He delivered all three of my parent's babies and is still practicing today. In fact, my mother continues to be one of his patients.

After Tammie was born, my parents were given the option of something called rooming-in, where a newborn could be kept in the mother's room instead of the nursery. At first, my mother didn't like that idea, but when the nurse came to take Tammie from my father and bring her back to the nursery, my mother changed her mind. According to her, my father looked so sad that she decided that she had made a mistake and she told my dad to run after the nurse and see if they could make the change to rooming-in. The nurse understood and Tammie was given back to my dad and she stayed the rest of the time in my mom's room.

My father told me how beautiful Tammie was as a baby. He said, "I can remember walking through Edwards Department Store and holding Tammie and people would come up to me and just remark about her eyes and how cute she was." My mom agreed and mentioned to me that people were just so enamored with her very unusual, almost black eyes. When I heard that, I kind of rolled my own eyes, as mine are identical to my sister's. How come no one ever said that I was beautiful or cute? Perhaps, there is more to it than just the eyes.

Tammie, as a very little girl, had a constant companion. Actually, she had a few of these companions. Most times, she could be seen carrying a little piece of cloth that she called her "Mama". After a while, Tammie determined that she was getting too old for "Mama" and decided that she wanted to get rid of her. My mother told her that if she put it in the closet there was a chance that a toy would appear in its place the next morning. Well, Tammie thought that was a great idea and quickly agreed. Unfortunately, somewhere around bedtime, she decided that just to be safe, she would give her "Mama" another chance.

Tammie could be stubborn as a little girl, too. Come to think of it, she has been a little stubborn her whole life. When she was three, she went through a period where she just wouldn't eat. My parents tried everything and were becoming quite frustrated. The family pediatrician advised ignoring her behavior, under the belief that she would eventually eat on her own. That turned out to be an effective strategy and something that ultimately worked.

My mom's parents were up from Wellsville and my grandmother had brought with her some anise cookies. She left them on my parent's kitchen table and retreated with the rest of the adults to the living room. Thinking that no one was watching, Tam sneaked into the kitchen and very discreetly absconded with one of the cookies. She then nonchalantly walked down the hall, losing a few cookie crumbs as she walked. My mother and grandmother noticed this theft, but my grandmother advised not drawing attention to it. Tam made several more trips before she finally tired of the anise cookie. The hunger strike was officially over!

Number 1 song on May 1, 1961 -funny, but for years this was my favorite song. Tam had introduced me to the film American Graffiti and "Runaway" was a prominent song in it.

Trips Downtown

(I believe that these glasses were purchased from someone other than "Jim", but they have a similar look)

Today, I had to go downtown for a doctor's appointment and I spent most of the trip there and back thinking of my sister up on that 5th floor in St. Peter's Hospital in Albany. I thought of our many trips downtown and around the city and some of the memories that we share. The wonderful trips shopping and eating with my mom and the interesting, wacky trips with my dad.

Years ago, when there was retail in downtown Syracuse, my mother used to take Tammie and I shopping at the big department stores there. We would go to Edwards, Dey Brothers and in later years, Sibley's. Oh and just before school started, we would head down to Wells and Coverly to buy clothes, shoes, etc. These were little adventures that we really enjoyed. In addition to the great shopping, Dey's and Edwards had these wonderful restaurants. Boy, do I miss the toasted cheese sandwiches at the Dey's Erie Room and the egg salad sandwiches at the Sibley's Deli.

My mother has never really enjoyed driving during the winter months, so we always took the bus during Christmas time. I remember the buses being red in color back then and we would walk about a quarter-mile to the bus stop on the corner of Camillus Drive and West Genesee St. On the way, my mother was always rushing. I imagine because one or the both of us dragged our feet when we were getting ready. I would lag behind and my mom would stop and holler for me to keep up. I didn't have the long legs that I have today, but I found a way to stop daydreaming and get going. At the corner, there was a orange band around a telephone pole indicating that it was an official bus stop and we would wait until our ride showed up and our adventure began.

My father was a salesman. In fact, he was a pharmaceutical representative for 32 years. His job required that he be away from home for three weeks a month and then he worked weekends at the Delaware Pharmacy on Geddes St in Syracuse. As a result of his work, we didn't get to see him that much when we were young. We always had a good time with him, though, when he was around.

Dad knew a lot of people and most of these characters were able to provide him with some "bargain" or "good deal". He had a contact who provided us with inexpensive eyeglasses. I remember going downtown with Dad and Tammie at night and struggling to find the back entrance to this "one of a kind" eyeglass manufacturer. Once we got up to the third floor or so, a gentleman smoking a cigar would greet us and slowly turn on a few lights. There were several filing cabinets in the room and they were filled with all of these frames. The man ("Jim") would carefully take out the eyeglasses, hold them up to the "light" and then place them on our heads. "Jim" was very particular and serious about his work, and would order us to look straight ahead while he examined how the frames looked from every angle. All the while, he would be smoking a tiny stub of a cigar and blowing smoke all around the room. If we got a "not bad", we usually found our new glasses.

Then there was the Central Surplus shoe store that was across from Delaware Pharmacy. They sold knock-off sneakers and other odd shoes that initially looked fantastic! Evidently, they had great prices, too. We would get these new sneakers that would last a couple of weeks and then start to disintegrate. Usually, this would occur as I was in gym class and trying to guard Todd Curry or some other great athlete in basketball or that god awful, European Handball. The bottom of the shoe would come apart or the sides would tear away, but despite this, we loved those trips and my father's "good deals".

After I finished with my doctor "adventure" and returned home, I decided to take a book and read at my favorite picnic table at the Camillus Erie Canal Park. As I was reading, I could hear a passing train's whistle and the crackle of leaves blowing in the wind. At the same time, I heard something or someone walking through the nearby woods and the noise appeared to be getting closer and closer to where I was sitting. The anticipation was killing me and I put the book down and looked into the woods. As soon as I stood up, the noise disappeared and I was not able to make out what caused it. Eventually, the noise faded and I was left alone with my book.

I think that memories are a bit like that noise in the woods. I can almost see the red bus, the monorail in Edwards, the great Christmas display in Sibley's, the little man with the cigar, and my sister at my side. Almost, but not completely. The more I try and imagine, the more the faces and the times fade. I would give anything to head out on one more adventure with my sister.

Echoes of the past

Drawing closer and closer

She never appears

An Early Autumn

Right Time, Right Place

I grew up a young kid, but how else could I have grown up. An old man growing up just doesn't seem all that right. Even if Brad Pitt thought it was.

When I was younger though my favorite baseball player was New York Yankee first basemen Donnie Baseball. No, no his name isn't actually that. How fitting it would be a baseball player with the last name of well, baseball. But his name is Donald Arthur Mattingly. Now he is no longer a first basemen for the Yankees. But a hitting coach for the Los Angeles Dodgers.

With my favorite player being a member of the Yankees I was a fan of which. Sadly for a Yankee fan it was part of the worse years. Not many playoff wins if any at all, which obviously means no World Series titles.

In these dark years there were great moments at least in this little kid's eyes. When Donnie Baseball would light a spark with a great defensive play or a spectacular double which with him seemed more average than spectacular.

Wellsville and the Yankees tie in greatly here. As I remember one year getting to Wellsville late on a Friday night and walking into the living room of my great grandmother's house at just the right time when that first basemen who oh, by the way shares the same birthday as me took a ball deep and over the fence for a home run.

Now this wasn't a tape measure shot at all, it was a game winning one. It was just a home run by a kids idol at just the right time and right place.
I'm not quite sure what year this took place, as Mattingly would have a streak of eight home runs in consecutive games back in 1987. Yet I tend to believe that I wouldn't remember me being 4 years old. But I do remember a few things.

Yet, this does fall into place with right time and right place. No matter which year it actually was. While this may also be the right time and the right place while Donnie Baseball and the New York Yankees are now both in the playoffs. Yet, Donnie like I stated earlier is a coach for the Dodgers. And well, his team isn't doing so good at this time. Down three games to one. His old team on the other hand is doing a little better as they are currently playing the Los Angeles Angels.

Yankees versus Angels.

To some it might just be another set of seven games that don't mean anything. To others it's a wonderful playoff series. To me, in this right time and right place could mean a little bit more.

I am no longer a Yankee fan. I have chosen to root for the Chicago Cubs after Donnie's retirement from baseball in 1995. Why? I feared rooting for a World Series championship team. Seeing as the Cubs haven't won a World Series since long before my great grandmother was born. Over a 100 years and counting and still no World Series wins for the Cubs. So the Cubs are again wrong time and wrong place.

The Yankees and Angels on the other hand are in the right time and right place.

Much like how back in 2001 when the Yankees made the World Series after the occurrence of 9/11. The city of New York and much of America rooted for the so-called "evil empire" of the Yankees. While their opponents the Arizona Diamondbacks played the role of the hated intruders. Much like the suspected terrorist leaders who caused 9/11. The Diamondbacks were from the desert and I could list six or seven somewhat similarities but this wasn't the time and place for me.

The time and the place was Yankees versus Angels. The first two games went to the Yankees. While sitting in my mother's room at the Inn, she slept through most those games.

So our place was game three.

Our time was now.

A mother and a son.

Her back was towards the television although it wouldn't have mattered her cancer has riddled her vision quite useless now.

As the game played on the small 13 inch television in her room on mute so the volume of crowd reaction or crack of the bat wouldn't scare her.

She laid in her bed as I sat in a wooden chair beside her. The Yankees had the lead at the moment three runs to one. As the game continued to unfold the Angels battled back. A two run home run from Vladimir Guerrero tied things up.

As the game went on numerous things occurred but other than a seemingly lucky catch from Mark Teixeira nothing else seemed too interesting.

Yes, game three of a league playoff game is a big deal. Don't get me wrong. A tied version closing in on extra innings, that's a huge deal.
But something pulled me away from the television. Much like it would have when I was younger. Maybe as young as when Donnie Baseball hit those eight consecutive home runs in as many games. Or maybe not as young as I thought I was. Yet, this one thing pulling me away was my mother's hand.

As the Yankees battled to go up three games to nothing. My mother struggled to hold my hand.

While former Yankee Bobby Abreu struggled to turn a double into a triple.

My mother wanted to feel something other than pain.

As Abreu decided his double was good enough it was too late he already veered too far in the in between. In between second and third.
The ball he hit had landed right in front of the outfield wall, ricocheting off of a picture of number 34, Nick Adenhart, who had been killed earlier this year in a driving incident.

As my mother allowed me to tighten my grip.

The ball bounced off the wall into Melky Cabrera's glove. A man a year previously was in danger of not only losing his role with the Yankees but in danger of not being one.

As my mother's eyes and mine traded contact our hands still grasping one another.

The Melk man, who now wears number 53 in honor of his role model Bobby Abreu, threw the ball into the infield. As the ball sailed past the cut off man, Robinson Cano and into the glove of Derek Jeter.

It was then, the right time and right place.

When the battle between good and evil re-emerged.

Much like how back in 2001 Americans rallied behind the Yankees in hope of something to believe in. In hope of something to celebrate.

It was then that I realized this series, the Yankees and the Angels had the same feeling.

But not for all those who lost something on 9/11, but for that little kid who's favorite baseball player hit a home run when that little kid happened to be in his mother's favorite town.

And just as Abreu thought running and sliding back towards second would be his safest bet. The captain of the Yankees made the turn to second. Instead of the seemingly then obvious turn to third. And caught Abreu, the Angel, trying to take something to early.

As my mother made a slight move to rearrange her blankets.

The out call was made. Jeter was excited. Abreu shocked and disappointed with himself.

And that little kid.

He's turned into a Yankee fan once again.

But this time. It's not because some guy named Donald shares the same birthday as him.

But because he is a Yankee. His mother is a Yankee. And he isn't ready to see the Angels win the fight just yet.