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.