Sounds like sit’-zen-zee.

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Mom showed the German part of her heritage when instead of telling us to sit down she would say, “Sitzen Sie.”

Dad showed the I Don’t Know What part of his heritage when he would randomly interject, “Rowdy dowdy dowdy dow.” You don’t often hear this term anymore, but on a couple of occasions he called me a knucklehead. I didn’t mind all that much because, admittedly, I was actually being one at the time.

A running joke was telling about a guy who was eating a real mountain of food and going back for seconds, one would exclaim, “Wow, I wish I had your capacity.” Another running joke was when there were guests for dinner, the not so secret codes referring to the amount of food available were FHB (family hold back) or MIK (more in kitchen).

Different Types

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My parents were very different. We were never quite sure why they married in the first place, or how they stayed together as long as they did. Dad was a home-spun philosopher, having come from a difficult family situation. His mother was bipolar, started in and out of mental institutions when my dad was 8 and was permanently institutionalized when he was 12. He was the youngest of 8 siblings (Grandma had the last two to “cure her”; evidently she was more stable with pregnancy hormones onboard, but no one understood that at the turn of the 20th century). My dad tried to keep a positive outlook his whole life, read Norman Vincent Peale and practiced “PMA”: positive mental attitude. I think it got him through a lot of tough times.

My dad used to say, “To have a friend, be a friend”. I repeat that often.

He wrote this to me on my first day of college:

“Fears result from loneliness.

Boredom and fatigue follow.

Let your smile open the door to friendship.

Excel in something – so that you have something to give.

Give generously and receive graciously.

To be happy – have a friend – be a friend.

Friendship is man’s greatest treasure.”

He was quite a guy…I miss him dearly. He’s been gone 26 years.

My mother was something else entirely; hard to please, stingy with compliments, full of self-loathing and bigotry. She was smart, very cultured and I got that from her, but steered clear of the rest. She referred to gospel singing as “coon shouting”. She already had dementia and was in a nursing home at the time of the 2008 election. A life-long Democrat, I tried to get the nurses to not allow her to vote, as she really wasn’t capable of making an informed decision. I had her at an eye doctor appointment when I discovered she had already voted absentee for McCain – unthinkable for her in her right mind! I asked if she knew any of his positions? She finally admitted that she wouldn’t vote for the schwarz (Yiddish for black…Obama).  Yes…a very different point of view from my father’s. One parent wrote encouraging words, the other ranted nasty stuff. I chose to take after the former.

 

 

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The café on route 66 on the corner of Campus and Foothill in Upland CA was called Martinez, not Martinez’s, just Martinez. Most locals called it THE LONG BAR. My wife and I had been married for a short time and met her mom and pop there for dinner. I was, and still am unfortunately, a stone contractor and her pop was the general foreman of utilities at the Kaiser Mill in Fontana CA. More than a little intimidated we had a short conversation and he asked if I wanted a drink and  I said hell yes!! My mother in law gave the stink eye and said ” Men don’t say those words”.

My Father-in Law, that has since passed, looked at my Mother-in Law and said quietly….

“The F**K we don’t !!!!!

One of my favorite lines, EVER !!!!….chardog

 

 

 

Be careful what you ask for…

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My grandmother was quite a woman. A gardener, a fantastic cook, a healer, and for this granddaughter – the best grandmother ever. I felt she died too young for my development into womanhood in our family. I was 16, she was in her 70’s. I missed her immensely and to this day when I garden I offer the garden up to her spirit in an act of gratitude. Whenever I needed her intervention with my Mom and I asked her for that help – she would always say “be careful what you ask for, you just might get it”. She said this in a slightly warning, slightly encouraging, slightly sarcastic way as she slightly shook her head side to side. This saying influenced me for years well after her death. Their have been a few times when I did not ask for what I wanted because of fear of outcome and times I did ask and wish I had not. Because of my contemplating that sentence I learned to be more clear about asking for life to deliver – and when I am specific and have clarity the universe provides. So although at times I felt that sentence confused me more than helped me – she actually taught me to think the ASK through and that has served me well.