Food

I was back in Philadelphia this weekend because my father-in-law was having surgery . While waiting for him to get out of the recovery room, my mother-in-law and I went down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. At the counter, there was a big box filled with soft pretzels... not the kind you buy at the grocery store in the frozen food section, but real Philadelphia soft pretzels, the kind they usually sell in the food carts on the streets. These pretzels are different - they are long, almost rectangular shaped, very doughy and sprinkled with salt. They are baked together in a long row and you have to break them apart to separate the individual pretzels. As I nibbled on the pretzel, it got me thinking about all the foods that are synonomous with growing up in Philadelphia besides pretzels - cheesesteaks, water ice, Red's hoagies, birch beer, hot chocolate in a can, roasted chestnuts, scrapple, pork roll..... every one of these foods brings back memories of childhood and family - they were our "comfort" foods -

We used to get pretzels from the street vendors everytime my family and I went down to center city Philadelphia to go shopping; water-ice came from the corner grocery store - Rosetto's lemon with little bits of lemon rind was the best (although my kids seem to like watermelon better); hot chocolate in a can was from when I would go with my Dad to the Camden High School football games: steaming hot roasted chestnuts would come from the street vendors in tiny paper sacks; birch beer was a treat unlike any other soda (as kids, we always got a kick out of ordering "beer"); scrapple and pork roll - both uniquely Phildelphia breakfast meats and undescribable to anyone not from Philadelphia (actually I don't think I ever want to know what scrapple is made of, but I love the taste); and Red's hoagies - ham and cheese hoagies from a small hoagie shop in South Philadelphia that were the best tasting hoagies ever and will never be duplicated - there was something about them - maybe it was the roll they used or the mayonaise or the thin slices of ham and chesse or the fresh tomato - I can taste it still today - my Dad knew "Reds" - he grew up in that area in South Philadelphia, and he would take us down there on the weekends for a hoagie. We would go into the shop and we would order the hoagie the same exact way every time - ham and cheese with mayo and tomato - he would cut the sandwich in half, wrap it in white butcher paper, and we would take it with us to eat in the car or at home. It was heaven.

I know every part of the country has its own "comfort" foods - foods that are associated with that area and become part of who you are. They can never be duplicated in another part of the country, and they don't always taste the same when you go back home either. They are reminders of childhood, simple times, a life uncluttered with stress and worry and the demands of adulthood... they are sweet memories that make us smile - so kids, enjoy your "Runzas" and your "DairyQueen blizzards" and your "Dinosaur barbeque", and your "DomeDogs" and your "salt potatoes", and your "Vic's popcorn" - these are the stuff of YOUR childhood and you will carry these memories with you wherever you go.

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My Mother

Winter usually brings about a time of introspection. It has been a LONG winter and my thoughts have been dominated by images of my parents, especially my mother. How I wish that my children got a chance to know my mother. How I wish that I had the chance to know my mother better – it seems like she was gone before I really got to know her, got a chance to learn about her life before she became a mom, what her hopes and dreams were, what it was like for her growing up in a big family. How sad that her history died with her. I was only thirty years old when she died. I was busy raising two children and living far away from home – I didn’t have the time or take the time to talk to her about her life.

I talk to my kids about their Nana. I tell them that she was the kindest person I have ever known. I tell them how she would do anything for anyone. I tell them how she welcomed all in her home, how she was happiest when she was feeding you, I tell them that she was a tiny woman – only about 4’ 11” who struggled with her weight her entire life. As long as I knew her she had grey hair, although I have pictures of her when she was younger and she had black hair. She was beautiful. She was very stylish when she was younger and she always wore high heels. I can remember going shopping with her in center city Philadelphia and she would be so afraid that her heels would get stuck in the ridges in the escalator or in the grates on the sidewalks. She always wore dresses – never jeans or shorts or pants. She liked costume jewelry and she wore no makeup except for her red lipstick.

My mom worked hard her entire life. Before she got married, she was a seamstress in a dress factory. After she had children, she worked as a “lunch lady” in the local high school, and then later was the manager of the cafeteria at the grade school. Even after she “retired” she got a job working at Villanova as a cashier at the Connelly Center. I think she was happiest surrounded by kids. But no matter what she did, she was always waiting for us when we got home from school.
My mother graduated from South Philadelphia High School. She never went to college, but she made sure that her children all graduated from college. She used to tell us how she got an award at school for her penmanship. We always thought that was so funny because she had the worst handwriting. She may not have gone to college, but she was a smart lady – she was intuitive about people and had a keen common sense. She loved to talk – especially to her girlfriends – and she had an extra-long cord on the phone in the kitchen so she could talk as she cleaned or got dinner ready. She would stay on the phone for hours (sounds like Tara!).My mother learned to drive when she was in her forties. I must admit she was not a very good driver. She had to sit on a pillow so she could see out the car window, and she would hug the wheel with both her hands. I can still picture her sitting behind the wheel of our silver Camaro.My mom was the best cook. She made things without using recipes and although I have tried, I will never be able to duplicate her dishes – I can still taste her “gravy”, her meatballs, her antipasto, her chocolate chip cookies, her eggnog. She loved to bake and she did use recipes for baking, although she had multiple versions of the same recipe. She loved to cook for a crowd, and there was usually a crowd at our house. She came from a large family – she had 2 brothers and 4 sisters and there were 18 cousins and it seemed like every birthday and holiday they were all at our house. My dad came from a large family too, 3 sisters and 4 brothers and 13 cousins, and they were at our house a lot too.I tell my kids how much my mother loved her grandchildren. They brought her such joy. The happiest times of her life were when she was with them, holding them in her arms, reading to them, taking them to the beach. It is sad to think she never got to see them grow up. She never got to know Chris. She would have been so proud of each one of them. I can see glimpses of my mother in my children and that makes me smile. Chris has her dark hair and eyes. I can see her smile sometimes in Tara. Matt has her compassion and friendliness.She was afraid of two things: dogs and water. She would panic whenever there was a dog roaming the neighborhood. She grew up with dogs in her house, but I think she must have gotten bitten when she was a little girl. We had all kinds of pets in our house – turtles, fish, frogs, baby chicks, a cat , rabbits – but never a dog. She also would panic whenever she would be near water. It would be a miracle if you got her to walk in the ocean or put her feet in a pool. She made sure that me and my brother and sister learned how to swim. She would drag us to swim lessons at the YMCA every week so we would not have her fear of water. It always amazed me how when for those few short years she was with her grandchildren, she would take them to the beach and walk in the water with them, always holding their hands so tightly. Her love for them transcended her fear.

She loved to stay up late at night. (All three of my children can thank her for that). She would sit on the couch watching Johnny Carson with a glass of Diet Pepsi by her side. Invariably her head would slump over and she would fall asleep, but she would never admit that she was tired. She would be up before the crack of dawn getting housework done before any of us got out of bed. She worked so hard for our family. The only time I ever saw her slow down was when she would get a headache. Her headaches would knock her out – severe migraines that only aspirin and sleep would cure.

There is so much more to tell about my mother. I wish we had video of her so my kids could hear her talk, see her laughter, know her. I forget what her voice sounds like, but sometimes in my dreams, she is there again - maybe that is what it means when it's said that a person never really leaves you when they die, that they are always a part of your life. Maybe dreams are a gift from God of a little more time with the ones we love.

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April 5th

Dad called me on the phone today from the road. He asked if I knew what today was...of course, I did!

April 5th is a special day. It's one of those days that are noted on my calendar every year. Thirty three years ago (yikes!) on this day, your dad and I went on our first date. I remember we went to a concert and then to a movie. I don't remember who we saw in concert, but it was at the Main Point - a small coffee shop that showcased up-and-coming singers and bands like Jackson Browne and Bruce Springsteen. After the concert, we went to see the "Exorcist" at the movie theater.

Your dad and I met in the fall of our freshman year at Villanova in Physics class. I remember the class was held in a big lecture hall and there were several hundred students in the class. The professor seated everyone in alphabetical order and by lab sections, so somehow we ended up sitting next to each other - your dad being the last person alphabetically in his section, and me being the first person alphabetically in my section.

Your dad and I seemed to have nothing in common - he was the hippie type: long hair, jeans with patches all over them, cowboy boots; he was really into music; he had gone to a private high school (class of 40); he had traveled all over the world; I was the jock: shorts, tee-shirts, and sneakers; I didn't own one record album, I never traveled anywhere except to the New Jersey shore; I went to an all-girl Catholic high school (class of 600) We seemed to be complete opposites, but your dad was friendly and outgoing, had a great smile, and a corny sense of humor that made me laugh - we became friends pretty fast. We were "commuters" to campus, which meant we lived at home, so we started hanging out a lot together. I used to take the train to school and your dad had a car (a red Malibu) so he started giving me a ride to and from school. We studied a lot together because we were both Biology majors and had a lot of the same classes. I didn't think of your dad as "date material" when we first met. He didn't fit any of the criteria that I had on my list - the guy I dated would have to be tall, athletic, have a mustache. But the more I got to know your dad, the more I came to realize what a great person he was, what great qualities he had, how much our values meshed. He was kind, funny, respectful to me and my parents, he loved kids, he was honest, he put God in his life, he was hard-working.

We became such good friends but we were both apprehensive about "dating" because we didn't want to jeopardize the friendship if the dating didn't work out. We would go back and forth about it and finally agreed to give it a try. In my mind, I was thinking it was about time....
So that brings us to our first date - a concert and movie. I laugh today when I think of the choice of movie for a first date, and although I have never seen that movie again since that night thirty-three years ago, I can remember parts of it so clearly as if I saw it yesterday. Definitely not my type of movie, but...

Do I believe in fate? Would we have met and become friends if we hadn't sat next to each other in Physics class? What about if we weren't both commuters or Bio majors? I don't think it was a coincidence, but maybe a "God-incidence". Even though your dad ended up in broadcasting, there was a reason he started college as a biology major. Yes, I think things do happen the way they do for a reason - it may not seem apparent at the time or make sense, but it does seem to be a part of a greater plan.... so Happy Anniversary to us on our first date, and the beginning of a life together and a family that I cherish with all my heart!

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