Remembering Oreo

Thoughts about Oreo, my cat I had since I was Ten years old - that passed away this past November; he was 17.


I remember the day I met Oreo like it was yesterday. I was 10 years old and I had just come home from school. My dad wasn't home yet so I had the house to myself. Having no idea that my Father had planned on getting a kitten (though I have always loved all animals - I had been asking for a dog...and a horse for years) I was quite alarmed and curious when I heard tiny squeaks coming from beyond the closed laundry room door. Eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I ventured into the laundry room to find the source of these funny little noises I was hearing. I was shocked with delight when I looked down to see a tiny, fluffy, fuzzy , adorable black and white kitten at my feet..meowing up a storm. Bewildered; I scooped him up in my arms and burst out the front door to see if anyone was around, I remember it was snowing lightly and falling all around us in a beautiful serene calm as if someone had just shaken a snow globe. I didn't know how or why this little kitten came to be in my home and I was nervous it was all a mistake - that maybe he somehow wandered in and would have to be taken back to wherever he came from!

Finally my Father came home and confirmed that, yes, he was meant to be our cat. He had picked him out from a litter of kittens his friend's cat had birthed. I was elated. We then decided we needed to find a name for him. He was very young and still didn't quite grasp the concept of retracting his claws - so he made a funny sticky noise as he walked across the carpet, noticing this; my Father's girlfriend suggested we name him "Velcro"... to this day we still crack up laughing about the suggestion. After many failed name attempts I came up with the oh so unique idea of naming him "Oreo" since he was mainly black with white running from his whisker pads down his chest and tummy, and on his paws. The name stuck, and he was called Oreo ever since.

Oreo brought so much joy and laughter into our home, he was a very bright kitten and as he got older - though we wanted him to be an indoor cat, he turned out to be a very sneaky escape artist and always found a way to get out into the great wide open. He never stayed out too long however and would let us know on no uncertain terms that he wanted to be let back in.
When ever we would go out and come home, we would find Oreo hanging by his claws to the top of the door to peek through the door window at us - this was one of the many cute and quirky things he would do - along with running full speed down the hallway and leaping from the chair to balance on the top of the open door that lead to the basement - he was a great jumper.

So, Oreo and I grew up together from my formative years through my teens and into my twenties, and were always very close. Though I must say he loved myself and my Father equally and made sure he divided his time between us fairly. When he was still very young, maybe just over a year...I had noticed one day that Oreo didn't seem to be himself. I tried to pick him up to comfort him - he cried. Frightened and concerned I told my Dad and we took him to the vet to find he had a UTI. It was a chronic problem for a while and we tried many diet changes. I remember the last time he had one, my Dad had spent close to 1,000 dollars in vet costs for Oreo and said he just couldn't afford to bring him again. I cried like a baby and we found a way to take Oreo to the vet and not have him stay overnight, this involved a catheter and yours truly waking up on the hour through the night to make sure everything was working properly - which I gladly did. Luckily, that was the last time he ever had that problem and we found a diet for him that worked. Life resumed it's normal pace and Oreo and I were closer than ever. Our favorite game was hide and seek - where I would hide behind a door or wall and he would sneak-up and then jump out on his hind legs as if to say "surprise!!" He would also sit at the kitchen table with us (even though he couldn't have people food) and literally tap you three times on the arm as if to ask "excuse me, may I have some?" This was a common occurrence at meal times for the rest of his life :)

As I grew up and things changed one thing remained constant - my loving Oreo. Always there, always the same. A cornerstone of the household. I moved out when I was 18 for two years and missed him terribly. But, when I moved back home we picked up our relationship right where we left off. I remember sharing special moments with him where you just knew the precious bond between you and your animal. As morbid as this sounds I always would get very sad as I realized these special moments - knowing how much I would miss them when he would not be around anymore... I just loved him so much.
When I was about 24 (and Oreo was about 14) I moved from New England to Florida to live with my then-boyfriend. But I always kept Oreo in my thoughts. A lot of people asked me why I didn't take him with me - how could I take him from the home that he'd known for 14 years, and how could I take him from my Dad who is just as attached to him as I - and also who needed the companionship of him more than I did...And Indeed they were best friends and kept each other company. My Dad would light up when he talked about him..he would jokingly call him "Yo-Yo" and tell me stories of what shenanigans our cat had been up to.

Every trip home I would make time to spend with my Oreo, realizing he was getting up in age. And I treated every time as if it was the last. In the last year Oreo developed diabetes ( I remember noticing something different with him my last trip home and telling my Dad) And my Dad faithfully gave him insulin shots and kept an ever watchful eye on him. I knew his time was limited. I call my father every Sunday - and every Sunday I asked how my Oreo was. Some days he was great, some days he wasn't. I had a trip home planned for the last week in November - for Thanksgiving and my Birthday. I remember every week for months prior - telling my Dad that I just wanted to see Oreo once more.
Well, about 5 days before my trip home I got a phone call from my Father. The first words he said were " I am so sorry Jeanine, I know you wanted to see Oreo one last time but..." and he broke the devastating news. All I could say was "No, no, no! My poor Oreo!" and my Father and I sobbed together on the phone as he told me how Oreo had looked into my Father's eyes and passed away. I cried for hours...then days... now any time I think of him...I am teary as I type this. He was a staple in my life for 17 years...One of the only things consistent and sure for almost all of my life, more than a pet, more than a friend, more than family...and now he's gone. And it seems my life will never be the same, like the end of an era...
I feel worse for my Dad, who lives alone. Oreo and him were inseparable in those last years and I know how lonely he feels now without Oreo there to greet him at every turn. When I returned home the week after his death it was like a stab in the heart - how odd the whole house felt now, how empty and lifeless...out of habit I still expected to find him in all the usual places and every time I remembered why he wasn't there another wave of sadness would wash over me.

It's amazing how these animals are so much more than pets and really touch our souls. I am thankful for all the great memories I have had with my beloved Oreo and I am forever grateful I got to have him in my life. I think about him fondly everyday and although I love my two cats Nisha and Steely Dan deeply - there is a special place in my heart for Oreo that can never be taken again. May he rest in peace. xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

From last year- entitled "The Mother of All Adventures in South Florida" just 1 of many installments from my series called "Adventures in South FL"

Sept, 2008

I am going to give this blog another shot...I wrote a beautiful masterpiece of a blog that I was very proud of maybe a month or two back - it was witty, descriptive, breezy and smart. I really felt it was a literary accomplishment as far as my writing goes....only to have the power go out just as I was hitting the "post" button. I know this will not compare to my first "lost" blog, but this story is just too wacky to go untold.

Well, most of you who are my friends on here will obviously remember that I was singing in a band when I was in MA and that I loved it, that singing is my passion. Most of you also have been rather mad to hear that I have not really pursued any musical endeavors since moving to South Florida (my bank's singing contest excluded) and you all let me know this on a semi regular basis. Well, this is the story of what happened when I finally did try to get back into the music "scene".


This story will go down in history, as far as my history is concerned. I'm still not entirely convinced that it actually happened...there is a chance that this could have been either just a really crazy, whacked out, freak of a dream, or that I was on acid or peyote or some other kind of psychedelic drug and having some kind of hallucinogenic experience. Anyway you cut it though, it makes for one hilarious tale.

So, one of the girls I work with and have become friends with is a "float" teller (she goes to the banks that are short staffed to fill in) and she had been working at my bank one day. While she was talking to me she remembered me as the winner from the Bank's singing contest at the holiday party. She told me she had enjoyed my singing. She then proceeded to tell me that she knew this great musician that was looking for a female vocalist, that he had a music studio and I should meet up with him.

So I said "what the hell!" and a couple weeks later I met up with her and some of her friends to go to this guy's studio.

There was no way I could have been prepared for this night. Just no way.

As I pulled up to the studio I could hear the muffled sounds of a guitar being played. This was familiar, comfortable, it reminded me of pulling up to band practice. "Perhaps I will finally be in a band again!" I thought to myself.
Everyone got out of their cars and I was introduced to whomever I did not know. Then... the door swung open - enter Louie.

Louie. How shall I describe him? He had the energy of a cartoon version of Robin Williams. And not just the coked out Robin Williams. If Robin Williams had been on coke... and crack. And was a cartoon.

It must have been a while since he had people over, for he was over joyed at the sight of us, and started in with a barrage of hugs and kisses and ramblings on about how happy he was to have us and "were we ready to rock?" and many other fast talking phrases I can't even begin to recall. He had his cousin or nephew or something who I think was in his thirties with him, who seemed pretty laid back. Then again anyone would have seemed laid back next to this guy.

He must have been in his mid fifties, though I doubt very much that he realized it. He was a bit over weight and maybe it was his personality, but he came across (in my memory at least) as disheveled in appearance.

After the initial introductions and/or hellos he proceeded to continue in his frenzied excitement to offer us drinks. "OK, whatever you want to drink; we have vodka we have rum we have wine we have shots we have blue martini's - you want a blue martini? I can make a great blue martini, what'll you have? what do you want? come on, whatever you want guys, look at this bar - you name it I have it, red martini? Wine?"

We all opted for beer. He made the martini he kept raving about. I sat on the couch with a couple of my new friends, the two others sat on near by chairs against the wall - that was the wise choice in hind sight.

Right away he ran to his guitar - he really must have been attention starved, you could see how badly he needed the focus on him right away. He walked over to this machine that had pre-programmed bass and drums, picked out a bluesy/rock beat that kinda sounded like "Some Kinda Wonderful" and just went to town - as if he was a rock god. This was a sight to behold, he started to jump around and flail his guitar as he kept finger tapping to the back round music...then he went up to the microphone and started "singing" (and I use that term loosely) into it, occasionally stepping back to jump or sway erratically.
I was not impressed. He was average at best in his ability to play the guitar. However I have also been around some of the most talented guitarists/musicians in the business, (uncle Kook and Mr. Bogus) so maybe I am being a little harsh. No, no, no...he wasn't even close to being as good as them. I'm sure he thought otherwise though.

Well, it was at about this point that he, in his excitement, knocked over the mic stand...that proceeded to knock over the bowl of chips and all the drinks that were on the table in front of where I was sitting. And they spilled right on to...you guessed it - me. Feet. Soaked. With Beer. and  by fet that includes my cute wedge heels that I loved. The floor was a catastrophe. You wouldn't have known it though, Louie just kept-a right on playing.

Next up, Louie's original songs. After he played the first tune, a sort of up beat 80's sounding, run of the mill, generic song, there came a slow, cliche, 80's like ballad, complete with a cheesy "this is for the ladies...I'm gonna slow things down a bit..." introduction that made me embarrassed for him. It was by this point I started to realize this was probably not going to be my start to singing in Florida.

Well, finally Louie somehow managed to find it in him to take the attention off of himself for a moment so that I could "audition" for him. Again a barrage of words that came at me like a machine gun....I can't even begin to remember what he said besides calling me "Ja-nininininiinininininin-een". I started telling him what songs I knew that he might be able to play for me, but was ignored. He started ranting about it almost being twenty five minutes to midnight and when it was twenty five minutes to midnight then we would know twenty five minutes to midnight..then he handed me a paper with lyrics on it.

"What's this?" I said

"Twenty five minutes to midnight! my song! weren't you listening to what i said?"

To which I replied "ummm, I didn't know you were talking about a song..."

He launched right into this original tune...prompting me to sing...a song that I have never even heard played or even hummed once for me...and he expected me to know it. So I just sucked it up and made up my own way through it. He was beyond excited at my singing ability...and started rambling about making millions of dollars and calling me "the million dollar baby" and making records and all sorts of other bull shit. Then to my disbelief, he started yet another original that he expected me to sing. This is where I drew the line. I told him absolutely not. I was not going to sing another song I didn't know, and that if he wanted me to sing his songs, make me a cd and I would learn them and put my spin on them. He wouldn't have it, he kept trying to force me into singing the song...he kept playing the beginning, and trying to lure me into singing it. Everyone there was annoyed too, they kept saying they wanted to hear me sing a song the whole way through - but he was simply just on another planet. He didn't hear them. I got really aggravated, but I held my ground. Finally when I saw that he wasn't going to stop, I excused myself to go have a cigarette.
Everyone came out with me. The girl who had told me about him in the first place apologized. Everyone was frustrated with this dude too.

Then he came out to where we were, he finally relented and said we could do a song I know...we decided on "Rock n' Roll" but first he asked us if we'd heard his "American Boy" song. Obviously I hadn't...I didn't know about the others. Then for the first time that night his nephew or cousin or whatever piped in ;
"Let me tell you something, this American Boy song; Abercrombie and Fitch...American Eagle...Gap....they will buy this up in a minute...It will make millions. MILLIONS. This song will be huge."

O.K dude.

Louie launched right into an acapella version of this American Boy song.. I will tell you all how it started;
"In 1492, when Columbus sailed the ocean blue"...I shit you not.

Next verse;
"In 1776..."

Yup. A little history lesson, boys and girls.

And in between there was some generic chorus about "cuz I'm an American boy, god bless America..." yadda yadda yadda...

It was cringe worthy.

When we went back inside he stayed true to his word and started to play something that sort of resembled "Rock n Roll"...sort of. But really, really, reaaalllly slow. I asked him to speed it up, but he denied me. He said he wanted me to "hang on the notes". I wanted to punch him in the face. It's OK though, because I barely got the first verse and chorus out before he literally stepped in front of me and just started solo-ing out to a completely different song. altogether.

I was all set. I wanted to get the eff out right then and there. I sat down. He tried yet again for me to sing his original song. I flat out refused. This was ridiculous. We all had enough and decided to leave. Again, I must stress that this guy must not have visitors too often because he kept saying

"TWO more minutes, TWO more minutes...just stay a little longer guys".

We opened the door to go outside....he pushed though us and SLAMMED the door shut.

"You guys aren't going anywhere, there is one more thing I have to do..."

We all looked at each other in a silent panicked alarm. This was it. He was gonna lock us in, take out a gun, and shoot us all. We're dead.

We weren't that lucky.

What he did do was put on the recorded version of the friggin "American Boy" song...and then proceeded to take his mic and karaoke along with his own song....prancing around like a fool and using all the grand gestures like pumping his fist at the sky, and pointing to each one of us as he sang and danced around like a jack ass.

This song must have been the longest song in history. I felt like i was watching this train wreck for an hour...in reality, prob 8 or 9 minutes - that's is 8 or 9 minutes longer then it should have been. As soon as it was over we headed straight for the door, again he tried to get us to stay...

"TWO more seconds, TWO more seconds, alright, ONE second..come back in come back in.."

This time we made it out the door, I all but ran to my car. Freedom. Just as I was about to pull away he yelled over to me;

"So what do you think? You want to put some tracks down?"

"I don't really think so..."

And I drove off in a spinning daze and slowly made my way back to reality. My friend Yohanna who had been the one to set this all up called me later that night to apologize - I told her I actually thought the whole situation was hilarious, and I wouldn't take it back if I got to do it again - it makes for a great story.

After all there was no harm done, I was home safe and sound, slowly returning to the real world, and proud that I at least gave it a shot.

It was definitely the mother of all Adventure's in South Florida.

I know I've got some magic, buried deep in my heart, yeah - so have a seat while I....take to the sky.

Sometimes some memories come up, and they want to be heard.

This weekend Lenny, Steve and myself were watching Phish live via a stream on the Internet - like we almost always do when they are playing a show. This particular show was a little more special than the others from this tour; For one thing - they played my favorite of all the Phish songs; "Famous Mocking Bird" which is a very technically challenging and complex song which hadn't been played by them since the year 2000. Second, they played another amazing song that is rather rare and epic to Phish shows; Icculus...which to me is more of a story than a song. Icculus is a part of the saga of "Gamehenge" (as is Famous Mockingbird) in which each different song tells more about this ever changing tale.

Now, upon hearing Icculus I felt compelled to do an impersonation of Trey (the lead singer) and his inflection during his story telling - which then compelled Lenny to show me a Phish show from a while back, in which Trey tells a rather lengthy and fantastical story having to do with being a child and watching hours upon hours of television in his room. As the story goes; one day, while watching the show "Lost in Space" Trey realized that the show was sending him a personal message and telling him to go to a clearing near his home (that looked like,according to Trey, the exact same clearing in the show).

Apparently he began saving scraps of food from each meal and putting them into his lunch box. Then one day when he arrived at the aforementioned clearing, he found a pentagram burned in the earth and realized what he must do; he must place each piece of food that he had saved on each corner of the star, and an "utter ball" (a bouncy ball with utters that both Trey and the characters in the show coincidentally had) - in the center of this star. As legend has it, a great wind began swirling after Trey did this, and he began to see glimpses of his future, and the faces of his future band mates. Finally, he used the fact that he saw into the future to the faces of his band mates to segway into a song.

This left me thinking....Does he really think this all happened to him? How much of this DID actually happen to him? If it did happen, certainly no one would ever believe such a thing even if it was only partly true, and he had fabricated some of it for story telling purposes.

Ultimately all my pondering about this unbelievable story got me thinking about something that happened to me a few years ago. Maybe not quite so profound, but definitely magical and special and unbelievable in itself.

I must preface this by saying that I am very spiritual. Not religious - well, not in the traditional sense anyway. I come across things that agree with my soul and mix and match what I believe in.
I am (and I am fully aware this sounds crazy, but do not care) rather magical, and strange things always happen to me - in some instances there have been people there to witness this magic for themselves, which justifies my claims and absolves me of any incredibility...because, you see, this story is not fabricated in any way - none of my stories are actually!

Well, on a sunny day in March a few years ago, I decided to go for a walk. At that time I was living at my house in Saugus - My mom grew up in that house. My Grandfather had it built in the 1960's from just a plot of empty land. I love that house. It is such a wonderful little neighborhood. My street is a cul de sac and is very quiet and quaint. At the end of the cul de sac is a small hill that leads down to the Saugus River and a nature trail that leads to "Pranker's Pond".
Pranker's Pond (which is actually more of the size of a lake) is a man made body of water that was used at the turn of the century into about the mid 1900's to cut out ice blocks for ice boxes (refrigerators) in the winter. It was also used for boating and recreation in the summer. These days people usually just use the pond for fishing or taking a scenic walk... it's also the place for high school kids to party/drink during the night.

So, here I was on this day, walking down the trail deep in thought, soaking in the nature all around me - when I saw something in the trees out of the corner of my eye. As I moved further down the trail it happened again - then I saw it - a GIANT bird flying up ahead of me. At first I thought it was a stork - but my later research revealed that it was actually a Great Blue Heron. Each time I walked closer to this elusive bird it would fly a few feet ahead of me. We continued this way until I reached the pond - at which point it decided to take a rest in the trees.

Even though I had been going to Pranker's Pond my whole life, I had never really explored the forest and trails surrounding it - and so, felt the need to do so on this gorgeous day in early spring.

I went up and down many hills and trails with lovely views of the pond or the landscape. It was a very peaceful, soul nourishing feeling and I was kind of filled with the spirit of nature - a very serene, content feeling. I remember finding a particularly beautiful spot on a rock over looking the pond (once again, think what you will of me - I don't mind) I said a little incantation to call any woodland spirits (faeries, ghosts etc) to me....only the good ones of course.
After my little "prayer" I continued to walk a ways down a trail when a beautiful black and gold butterfly started to flutter around me. I stopped and observed it's playful little dance for a minute or two. I then felt the urge to hold out my palm to the butterfly and said "Come see me!"
To my surprise it fluttered about me for a bit then LANDED on my palm for a brief moment before fluttering about again.
Now, if that was the end of my interaction with the butterfly I could say it was merely luck that it landed on my hand, and though it was certainly special - not really magical, spiritual or profound. However; the butterfly and I continued this enchanting little game for about 15 minutes. I would hold out my hand and call to it and it would flutter to me and land for a moment then fly off again. It was amazing. I knew I was part of a sacred moment. It happened so many times that I was able to actually take my phone out and wait for it to come back again to snap a picture so I could document this epoch in my life. The actual picture I took is posted above...once again proving the factualness of this story (honestly, not that it REALLY matters to me - I know it's real - but it's great to be able to back up something unbelievable so all the pessimists have no leg to stand on!)

Eventually the butterfly (or whatever spirit it actually was ;)) grew tired and decided to nap on a nearby stick. I said my goodbyes to it and walked away in wonderment. I knew that I had just been part of something very special and felt blessed and humbled by it all. Moments like that in my life definitely make me feel intertwined to something so much greater - I think we absolutely are all interconnected, and we are all an energy force that exists beyond what we call "reality", which is just a little slice of something much, much bigger.

As I walked the trail back to my home, who did I see flying before me once more....The Great Blue Heron. I smiled to myself as I opened my cell phone to pull up the picture of the butterfly on my hand from just moments ago. It certainly had been an amazing day, I felt a part of something that not many people get to be a part of. And I am grateful and appreciative that I experienced...and realized that. This universe is far more mysterious and complex then we could ever understand or comprehend....and I think that's the beauty of it all.

Let go. Leave yourself open to all possibilities - who knows what could and will happen.

An old post from 2007 about my trip to a John Lennon Exhibit I originally titled; "Half of What I Say is Meaningless..."

Saturday 2/10/07

Today Jay and I went to see the art work of John Lennon on exhibit in Delray Beach, entitled "All You Need is Love".

What it was, was many different drawings and works that Lennon himself had done; limited edition lithographs and serigraphs etc... that were being sold - and about 6 ORIGINAL works from Lennon - that obviously, were not for sale.

I can't begin to express how grateful, and inspired, and privileged I felt to be able to see original (and even reproductions) of works from this man I hold in such high artistic regard... in person. It was absolutely spiritual.


As you looked at each individual picture, there was a caption off to the side with information about the artwork or the story behind the picture. Each work had so much meaning in it. That man put so much insight and hope and revelation and spirit into EVERYTHING he did to express himself...be it music or drawing, or "bagism" or a "bed in" or whatever unique way he chose to express his feelings. It was just amazing. The exhibit also had (reproductions) of original copies of his lyrics for most of the greatest songs he ever wrote.

Just to make it even more special; they had Beatles and solo (Lennon) music playing as you walked through the many "walls" of Lennon's art. I have to admit, there were certain points where looking at a particular work, and hearing that genius music did make me teary eyed... a few times. It just seems (for me at least) that there are so few people with talent and vision and strong personal beliefs, and such open, honest, raw emotion to get into these days. It just got to me.


Looking upon the actual original works that were on display, kind of made Lennon come alive to me, if even for a mere moment. It was so real, so everyday, so - you and me, jot this down on paper real. It made me feel as close as I can ever come to actually seeing or meeting him. It was just an honor to me, to be able to be so close to something this legend had created.

I left the exhibit feeling fulfilled. Peaceful. Truly happy. It really was spiritual for me, and it made my day. As I walked along with Jay I realized what a gorgeous, perfect day it was; blue skies, not too cold not too hot...just *perfect*. I saw a butterfly...in FEBRUARY!! I just felt more at peace then i have been in a long time. Since coming back home I have been inspired to do some art of my own again....something that I had not done for at least a year, maybe more.- just another reason I'm so glad I got to take part in this today.


So, that's all. I had to go on a rant for a little bit, simply because I could not keep this happy feeling to myself. (I'm sure most of you know how cynical I can be sometimes ;)) And I want to remember this feeling - because I'm sure it will be fleeting...and have it to reflect upon.
So now I'm going to bed. Satisfied. Happy, and inspired.
Great day.

Just Because it's Pretty Funny...

Here is Becky and I (Better Known as NEENANDBECK) doing our interpretation of "Paper Planes"


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gadlbUI1UzY


Good times...good times.

A Not So Brief Continuation of my Brief Autobiography

THE BEST YEARS OF MY CHILDHOOD


Ages 5, 6, & 7 were no doubt my favorite ages of my formative years. I have very clear and concise memories from these ages on. Being a child is by far the best time in life. My days were divided up between school (I started kindergarten at age 4 so I was in elementary school by the age of 5) playing with my toys, playing outside, playing inside, laying on the carpet in front of the T.V. drawing, playing with friends or watching Disney.

As a super imaginative child, playing was quite a production. If you were to play with me, you had to be able to keep up. I had about 5,322,514.2 “My Little Ponies” and I had a different voice for each one. There was also an ongoing storyline for each character that I kept up with on a daily basis. Think of it kind of like an on going soap opera…but with colorful plastic ponies in place of colorful plastic people. Some of this is documented on cassette…funny stuff. My family would love to spy on me as I played in my room – they got a tremendous kick out of how well I did so many different voices, as well as my intricate tapestry of stories I would continue to weave. Of course if I noticed them peeking in on me I would get terribly embarrassed and shout out “SHUT THAT!!!” in horror, and they would giggle and shut the door – I would then continue on my merry way.

If I happened to not be playing with my toys I was most likely pretending to be a horse. By this point it was well established that horses were my absolute favorite animal; if not my obsession. My grandfather owned many racehorses at Suffolk Downs and in Florida and I think his love for all animals but mainly horses was instilled in me. If you were playing horse with me you would, of course, have to be a horse too. Now…for me; pretending to be a horse did not involve merely walking around on hands and knees. I could move like friggin’ Secretariat. I would tear down the hallway in an uneven hands and feet full gallop. Reflecting back upon it now I can only imagine the sight I must have been. I also loved to “gallop” up the stairs. I loved the fact that it sounded like authentic hoofbeats.
The only time I did not pretend to be a horse was either when it was Christmas time – in which case I would pretend to be a reindeer…or when I was in the pool where naturally, I would pretend to be a dolphin (named “Rainbow” because of the rainbow-esque arc that I would make as a dolphin jumping into the pool.)

When I was not playing with horses or pretending to be a horse…I was drawing them of course! This usually occurred at night. Everyone would be in the living room watching T.V. and I would be laying on the floor along side the coffee table with my pad of drawing paper and my pen, drawing and writing out captions or short paragraphs to which my drawings would illustrate whatever story I was writing. A lot of the times it was actually unicorns and such so I could really use my imagination and delve into magical happenings within my tales. The only time I would not be drawing horses was (just like when I was playing them) when it was Christmas time. I would draw out 4 sets of reindeer and a sleigh and cut them out and paste them up on the wall. Which brings me to Christmas…


THE BEST TIME OF YEAR TO BE A KID


Hands down the most exciting time in a young (Christian) child’s life is Christmas time. When you still believe in Santa, when it’s magical and exciting and there is this wonderful buzz and glorious anxiety leading up to that final day. I think I still try every year in vain to recapture that magical feeling that I remember. I still try to get that excitement back – but it is never the same. Christmas remains my favorite holiday, and I think it is solely for that elusive feeling I want so much but can never quite attain.

I remember that the Christmas buzz would start to hit me when the lights started going up on the houses. That was one of my favorite parts of the festive season. My neighbors down at the end of the street had a specific decoration that just awed me and that I still love to this day; it was one of those plastic reindeer and sleigh decorations., but with three reindeer – and the lead one was wired with a red Christmas light bulb nose so that he looked like Rudolph – my favorite of all the reindeer. I loved it so much. They set it up on the top of their roof and I loved to imagine it was the real deal. At this point my family only had the big old fashioned Christmas lights and the plastic Santa that lit up. I loved that Santa; he would stand right outside our front door (the upstairs front door, as we had an entrance downstairs and up, he would stand at the top of the stairs that led to the front door) his cheery red glow would filter through the dappled oblong glass next to the doorway and give a beautiful ambiance to the living room.

At least a couple times during the season we would drive around as a family and look at the Christmas lights. This is another favorite tradition of mine and I feel that Saugus has some of the best houses to look at…even if they might be taken a little bit to the extreme in some cases – I actually like them all the better because of that. The Fellsway of course was one of the main destinations for light looking in the Saugus and surrounding areas, and I remember the lines of cars and onlookers that would gather as you neared "the" house – the one with more lights then any house you had ever seen. The one with more decorations than you had ever seen. The one with the decorations that twirled and moved and rotated. That sparkled and twinkled and blinked. There was even music. Every nook and cranny of the house and yard was covered – it went on and on. Even the back yard was decorated. It was a must-see for all Yuletide participants. The line would start a couple blocks away, and it would come to a slow crawl, then just about a stand still by the time you actually turned onto the street where this house stood. Either you would have got out of your car to walk around and look at this spectacle or just gawked at its grandeur from the comfort of your car. We would usually opt for the latter.

Decorating the house for Christmas was magic in itself. The transition was amazing. It started by going downstairs and into the garage to get the decorations. You would always feel that crisp winter time chill from the outside – I always associate going into my garage when it’s cold out to Christmas time to this day. The boxes containing the decorations were festive in and of themselves; with pictures of ginger bread men and red and green swirls all over them.
Once we had lugged the boxes upstairs, one by one we unpacked and unloaded dozens upon dozens of Yuletide knick knacks. Some of which have been in my family for generations, in particular these little reindeer ornaments that were my Mother’s that had to have been from the 50’s. Also a “Rudolph” decoration to hang on the wall from the 60’s that I still use to this day. My mother loved little decorations…ceramics…ornaments….decorative dishes, you name it – the love of all things novelty was definitely passed down to me through her. When we were finished there really wasn’t anywhere you could turn without seeing something Christmas related. I loved that. Nothing was better then that holiday feel.

Another tradition that I still love and that also gave the holidays a special feel for me, was the making of Christmas treats – especially sugar cookies. Any of you who have been around me during Christmas time have no doubt had my “famous” Christmas cookies. They are something I know I can brag about with confidence – as they are always a hit and just seem to have a special something to them nobody else’s sugar cookies do. As a child this would usually be done by my Sister, my Brother and I. I would, at those younger ages be the one who got to stamp out the many different shapes with the cookie cutters…and we certainly had many; there was a Santa, an angel, a star, a bell, a stocking, a wreath, a tree,a reindeer, a snowman and a couple others I know I’m forgetting. Decorating them was always quite fun, and was done with many different colored sugars and frosting – they almost looked to pretty to eat…almost.

Now, I love Christmas movies so much it’s ridiculous, and back then we would tape all the Christmas specials off of T.V. There there was one super awesome Christmas movie VHS we had made that had pretty much everything you’d ever want to watch on it. It started with Rudolph, I can’t quite remember the order after that but it included Frosty, Charlie Brown Christmas, Year Without a Santa Claus, The Small One (a little known Disney short that I LOVE) Mickey’s Christmas carol, my all time FAVORITE which is Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol, Christmas on Sesame St…I mean the hits just kept on going. As far as music, there was always Bing Crosby’s White Christmas to be played. I remember that I would sit in my room with a red Popsicle (because Rudolph’s nose was red) and listen to Gene Autry’s record that had “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” on it, and just revel in the Christmas time spirit of it all. THE BEST Christmas compilation ever that I listened to and still listen to now however; was “A Very Special Christmas” it came out in 1987 and it was AWESOME – here is the list of songs and performers; The Pointer Sisters - Santa Claus Is Coming to Town Eurythmics - Winter Wonderland Whitney Houston - Do You Hear What I Hear? Bruce Springsteen - Merry Christmas, Baby The Pretenders - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas John Mellencamp - I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus Sting - Gabriel's Message Run-D.M.C. - Christmas in Hollis U2 - Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) Madonna - Santa Baby Bob Seger - The Little Drummer Boy Bryan Adams - Run Rudolph Run Bon Jovi – Back Door Santa Alison Moyet - The Coventry Carol Stevie Nicks - Silent Night
I mean..COME ON! What a list! I especially enjoyed Run DMC. Still do.

So the anticipation of Christmas is almost unbearable to a kid; and it all comes to a point on Christmas Eve. I like that day better then Christmas itself. First of all; it was usually a half day of school. And nothing was more fun than getting to watch movies and pass candies and cookies around for a Christmas party at school…it definitely added to the magic of Christmas. Then you would get ready for Christmas Eve Mass. I haven’t willingly gone to Church in probably about 14 years…but I would still love to go to Christmas Eve Mass just for the feeling it gives. Going to Mass at night was weird and cool to me as a child and it added to the excitement of the holiday.The Church was decorated so beautifully with poinsettias and garlands everywhere. It would get so full that they would usually hold two Masses at the same time – One upstairs and one down, and that was kinda cool cause it was in the basement! I love holiday songs and around the age of 5-7 I LOVED Gloria (I think that’s what it’s called. NO not the Van Morrison song!)So it was always fun to be singing carols in Church.

After Mass (or maybe before I can’t remember) We would have dinner – since we were/are a very Italian/Sicilian family it usually consisted of shrimp and Lobster or some kind of fish.

The wonderful town of Saugus would have a parade with Fire Engines etc going through town and one could find out when it was coming near you by turning on channel 3. My family and I would walk down to the end of my street and await the parade. You could hear it coming a mile away, there were fire engine’s honking, sirens and Christmas music blaring, people cheering. When it finally would pass by..at least a dozen kids and some adults would be whipping candy to the crowd. It was awesome.

Myself and my family all share in the tradition of opening ONE gift on Christmas Eve, I loved that and still practice it! So, after opening our one present we would sit around and talk or watch a movie or something…leave the cookies by the fireplace and…this was my favorite of all…My Sister, Brother and I would all sleep in her (my sister’s) room. THAT was cool. It only happened once a year. I would listen for Santa and they would indulge my beliefs. I don’t know how I slept. I would wake up at around 4am and of course wake my siblings up. We would sneak out to the living room…only to see if Santa had filled the Stockings and ate the cookies….HE DID! Then I would wait in agony until a decent time to get up and open the contents of the stocking.
When my parents got up we could do the real presents. I was quite spoiled at Christmas. My Grandfather “Ho-Ho” would see to that. My Mom was great at knowing what I wanted in addition to whatever I put on my list, and I always had a mountain of presents.
However, it seems that all of the presents that I waited for were not nearly as enjoyable as the whole experience of the season. I still feel that way. I get much more excited about the traditions and the spirit of it all than the actual gifts. I love to give gifts more than anything – but find that the actual Christmas day is rather anti-climactic. Christmas Eve is still the favorite. Maybe one day..if/when I have children, I will be able to recapture that old feeling again. Or at least enjoy watching my child get to experience it. That would be wonderful

A Somewhat Brief Autobiography - Pt 1 Continued

Well...the age of three must have been of no consequence because the next memories I have don't surface until the age of four. That age gives me the only real memory I have of my Grandmother. ..who passed on shortly after. It's quick but it's treasured. All I can remember is being at my Grandparents house around Christmas time; Laying on the floor, right on the seam where the brown shag-carpeting stopped and the linoleum tiled kitchen began. They (my Grandparents) had bought a little battery operated Santa that played electronic Christmas tunes. He had little rollers on his feet that made him appear to be shuffling along in an awkward little way and every so often he would stop his journey to ring a little bell that was in his hand with feverish conviction. This novelty apparently delighted me and I was having a whore of a time watching him scuffle along inch by inch across the kitchen floor. My Grandmother, sitting at the far end of the room at the kitchen table seat closest to the off - the - kitchen pantry, got a kick out of watching me getting a kick out of this silly mini Santa. I remember her laughing and clapping and just having a wonderful warmth about her, a genuine warmth. I remember her smile. It's a great memory I hold very dear. I'm glad it has stayed with me.


DISNEY WORLD; HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH...FOR MOST.

Whether or not the next memory was before or after the previous one is again very hard to calculate. All I know for sure is that it was a milestone in my life - as I'm sure it would be in any child's life.

My trip to Disney World.

That trip ran the gamut from wonderful and delightful, to horrific and terrifying. Indeed.
I remember contemplating how my first plane ride would go. I practiced the whole scenario the night before..sitting on the couch and then leaning way back - simulating, of course, what the airplane would be doing. If I practiced this enough I would be an old pro at this whole flying thing by time of the actual flight. Sit up, lean back for take off. Repeat. Repeat again....and again. This will be a piece of cake.

It was. The plane ride went off without a hitch. My brother, sister and I played card games to pass the time..not like poker or anything, but I think I got the concept of the game "war" at that age - being a relatively simple game in it's objectives.

In no time we were in the happiest place on earth. Walt Disney World. Not only that....but we were fortunate enough to be staying at the splendorous, state of the art "Contemporary Hotel and Resort" in which the one and only monorail sailed right through the middle of the complex itself! This was luxury, that was certain. The future had arrived.

I remember going to breakfast with all my favorite Disney characters and having them sign my little autograph book. I remember the Magic Castle in all it's fairy tale glory, emblazoned against the bright blue Orlando sky. The Electric Light Parade at night, the Small World ride, The Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki, Tiki room....but, most of all...I remember the Dumbo ride. The terrible, terrible, damned, sadistic, hellish torture chamber that is the Dumbo ride.

I did not perceive it as such upon first sight, I was quite excited about it. I loved Dumbo...at home I would curl up on the couch with my can of peanuts, (Dumbo, you understand... as all elephants naturally do; loved peanuts and I always felt I had to identify with the characters I was watching) and proceed to watch the movie over and over. So this looked like it was right up my alley. Upon careful observation of the mechanics of this ride; I concluded that seemingly, you pressed a button, and the flying Dumbo would move up and down...well that's pretty neat, I can do that! I got in line with my family, I couldn't wait to try this out. This was going to be great.

However everything was about to change for the worse, and life as I knew it would never quite be the same again. I went into the Dumbo ride an innocent four year old. I came out a jaded, terrified child, scarred for life, changed forever. I was under the assumption that my Brother or Sister would be accompanying me on my fantastic escapade, which really isn't that far fetched seeing that I was all of FOUR years old. But come zero hour I was made to understand that I was to go on this flying death trap alone. Me. By myself. No one else. Alone. Hurtling into the great wide open at dizzying speeds, uncontrollably spinning off into the universe never to be heard from again.... Good bye cruel world. I will never make it out of this one alive....Surely I was gonna press the button and the Dumbo would get stuck, suspended high above the Magic Kingdom for the duration of my life. Or maybe just whirling around forever. Never getting out. No, not a chance of that. They would have to send a helicopter to bring me my meals, if I was lucky.
I would be left to fend for myself at night. Just hanging there forever. Nobody would ever be able to rescue me. No way. Or maybe, I would just fall to my death...no scenario ended in a good way.

In a frenzied, desperate attempt I begged for My brother to please come on the ride with me.
"Jeanine, you're old enough to go on this by yourself!" he replied.
Seriously? The way he said it you would have thought that four year olds were applying for jobs and driving cars, starting families.
Four years old and Jesus! You are that immature that you can't go on a giant ride the likes of which you have never seen before in your life that may potentially trap you in mid-air forever by yourself? Wow, what a baby.

My attempts at recruiting either my brother or sister were futile, and the next thing I knew I was sitting in this giant Dumbo....trembling....scared for my life...thinking this is where it all ended. In the bowels of a fiber-glass elephant. The next two minutes were the most terrifying of my young life. All of which I spent howling at the top of my lungs, not even thinking for one second there was any chance in hell of me pressing that button that could potentially send me plummeting to my death. I circled round and round in a nightmarish daze - holding on for dear life...surely this is the scariest ride ever made in the history of all human engineering. Thankfully, however, it did end...and I was still in tact - in the physical sense. Mentally I would never be the same again. This ride had altered me for the rest of my days. I still hold firmly to the belief that this experience was one (the other to be explained later) of the things that prohibited me from getting my drivers license until I was 22. Also why I wouldn't ever dare go near those damned old fashioned cars that you can drive, even though they are on a rail, at Canobie Lake Park in N.H. - or anything like it that involved mechanisms that you had to be in control of for that matter.

I have been back to Disney World twice since that first fateful trip. Needless to say I never ventured near that hateful, demonic ride again. I steered quite clear of it as a matter of fact. I shudder at the sight of it. Space Mountain...Splash mountain..the Tea cups...Journey into the Imagination with Figment....Tower of Terror... Test Track...the People Mover in Tomorrow Land.... Mr Toad's Wild Ride....sign me up. I'll ride those rides till I puke. Just don't ever try to force me on that fucking Dumbo monstrosity, cause it aint gonna happen.

A PEN AND SOME PAPER....


Well, the last thing to come out of the fourth year of my life was was the beginning of my relationship with drawing. Art. Expression. As soon as I had the coordination to hold a writing utensil confidently, I utilized it to every extent. Though obviously crude and abstract - my earliest drawings are not all that bad. My love of animals, specifically horses or dogs or birds already established, pretty much since I came out of the womb, is clearly evident in my work as most everything that came off of my pen or crayon and onto canvas was from the animal kingdom. I didn't like pencils, I do not know why. I actually still prefer a pen to draw with if given the choice....it's funny how these little quirks stay with you.

I was always a child that was very self sufficient. Self reliant. I guess I've always been a loner Dotty, a rebel. I did not need others to entertain me, my imagination was vivid and creative enough that I could be left by myself, lost in my own labyrinth of thought for hours, playing alone...or drawing. As it were, I much would much rather be left to play by myself, to draw by myself...all I needed was Kiss 108 fm on the radio in the back round...I think that can be chalked up to my A.D.D. - always needing things humming around in the back round...I still can't work on anything in complete silence, even as I type this I have the television chattering away and my playlist going - to keep me sane. Some things never really change.

My drawings would soon take a literary twist....illustrations with captions I guess would be more accurate, but that didn't come till a bit later.