This past weekend, although not on my "To Do" list (although maybe I should start including it), I decided to take a little time to catch up on reading. So, I grabbed the pile of newspaper articles that I've been saving to read when I have extra time (which doesn't happen often). The good news (pun intended) is that many of these articles are so old by the time I get to them, that they go straight into the recycle bin. Such as the one when Trump was still President and covered not only the pardons he had announced but also the ones that were still expected.
Anyway, I wasn't sure the subject still interested me, as obviously it was no longer relevant, but decided to give it a quick glance, which is when I saw that it mentioned how Trump had promised to "drain the swamp" when he was running for President in 2016. Before you stop reading – this post has nothing to do with politics. It's about how that phrase brought back one of my fondest memories of my Dad and a piece of paper now yellowed with age …
My dad was a consulting engineer and worked from home (which was very unusual in those days but I thought wonderful) in a room in our basement that he had converted into an office. Every day after school I'd go directly downstairs, even before running to the kitchen for a snack. I'd dump my bags, plop down (sorry, no other way of describing it) into the wooden chair in the corner, and tell him about my day. He'd turn around from his drafting table, so I could see him, and give me his undivided attention. Behind him and the drafting table was a large corkboard with assorted notes and drawings, but pinned in the far corner was a piece of paper that he'd probably put up there even before I was born.
What was on that paper always made me laugh, even though at the time I'm not sure I really understood how true it was. It was so like my dad, who had a dry but wonderful, sense of humor, sometimes silly (think Monty Python), sometimes a little sarcastic. A lot of it, though, was in his delivery – whether a story or a joke – how he'd calmly lead you into something that ended with the unexpected. Somehow, all of that came together, in what was written on that piece of paper. And although a small thing, he must have known how I'd always look at it because when it came time for me to get married and move out of the house, he gave it to me.
It has always stayed close to me, literally, in the decades since and today it's in my Red & Black binder that I use every day, especially since it's where I have my monthly calendar. And every time I look at it, I smile …
The objective of all dedicated employees should be to thoroughly analyze all situations, anticipate all problems prior to their occurrence, have answers for these problems, and move swiftly to solve these problems when called upon …. However .… when you are up to your ass in alligators it is difficult to remind yourself that your initial objective was to drain the swamp.
You may have to wait until the end of the month to celebrate Halloween, but the entire month of October is Bat Appreciation Month. So, Red can’t help but reminisce about when her oldest daughter, Natasha, first fell in love with bats. And Black? She can’t help but think of her first tattoo?!
assets.rebelmouse.io | Thanks for sending me Natasha's Austin-inspired business plan. But while I know that's her future, I can't help but think about the first time I took her to Austin. |
Black assets.rebelmouse.io | All I remember is that it was love at first sight. |
assets.rebelmouse.io | It was on our way home from taking Sawyer to camp, and I told her we were making a slight "detour". She was so excited when I pulled up to the hotel as she's always loved hotels. But that night, as we walked onto Congress Avenue Bridge and saw the thousands and thousands of bats fly out into the sunset, she was mesmerized and "in love". |
Black assets.rebelmouse.io | Although I knew about the bats (the largest urban colony of bats in the world), if it were not for Natasha, I never would have planned a trip to Austin just to see them. But having watched her watching the bats, I was not surprised, years later, when her first tattoo was a bat. |
assets.rebelmouse.io | That may not have been surprising, but I was shocked when a few weeks later you decided to get a tattoo, and it was identical to hers. I didn't know that you were such a fan of bats. |
Black assets.rebelmouse.io | It was not the bats; it was the fact it was identical to her tat. Although, I think Natasha and I should add a few more bats. And this time, do it in Austin. |
assets.rebelmouse.io | It's amazing how so many of my memories of the girls growing up are connected to Austin. |
Black assets.rebelmouse.io | Funny thing is whenever I would be there with you and the girls, and they would "drag" me to that old-time candy store at the top of Congress, I would see things I had not seen since we were little, so would be reminded of us as children. |
assets.rebelmouse.io | That's always one of the first places they'd want to go to in Austin. That and Green Mesquite BBQ. They both loved Austin, and it wasn't like going to a large city, where there are so many places to go and sites to see. They were always happy to go back to the same familiar places and enjoy simple things, like that snow cone truck or even just walking around downtown. |
Black assets.rebelmouse.io | For as long as I can remember, Austin has always been a foodie town. And, it had food trucks before they became popular around the country. Austin has a unique culture, which may be why the girls, but especially Natasha, love it. And, its " Keep Austin Weird" vibe not only makes it the perfect place for her, but has provided some great ideas for her business concept. |
assets.rebelmouse.io | I'll leave the business analysis to you. I know that she's doing that as part of her studies in the U.K., but I prefer to think about the great times we've had in Austin. And the mom in me thinks she'd be very happy to one day make Austin her home. |
Black assets.rebelmouse.io | Especially as that's where millions of her beloved Austin bats live. |
‘Tis the season for joyous celebrations – of whatever holiday you may celebrate. And fond memories. Even though Red wasn’t born when this happened, it’s still one of her holiday favorites (yes, she initially thought Black must have been on the “naughty list”) and a reminder of what the holidays are truly all about.
BLACK: I do not know at what age my Christmas memories began, but I do remember being very young and in awe of a very large – and very well decorated – Christmas tree in our family room. I even remember peeking down the stairs late one evening and seeing my mother standing extremely close to Santa Claus. OK, you might not find that an unusual memory, except my family is Jewish.
Apparently, my parents thought it was easier to decorate and give gifts for both Chanukah and Christmas than to try and explain why religiously they only celebrated the "smaller" holiday, although I must have sensed that. (Children usually do.)
And, I remember exactly when I came to the realization that Santa was not real. I was five years old and in the hospital with pneumonia and in the middle of the night, a Santa came by giving out Christmas gifts. I must have sensed his presence because when he arrived at the foot of my bed, I sat up and immediately told him that I could not have any Christmas gifts. He questioned why not (maybe thinking I was going to state I had not been good all year, which probably would have been an accurate statement), and I told him it was because I was Jewish.
He leaned over my bed, pulled away his fake beard, and whispered in my ear, "It's ok – so am I." And, without his beard, I immediately recognized him as one of the doctors who had checked on me several times during my stay. We smiled at each other, knowing that we had a special bond, and he left me a gift.
Now, older and wiser, I have come to the conclusion … Santa does exist. You just have to believe …
For those of you who have followed us for years, you know what’s coming … a naked turkey story. Because as soon as Black wrote it, it became a Thanksgiving tradition.
Black typically doesn’t reminisce, so her memories of a perfect turkey that made for a perfect Thanksgiving (for her) have become the perfect way for us to wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving. May your day be filled with family and friends and create memories that will last a lifetime.
Today is Thanksgiving, and I cannot help but wonder why we are online. However, everyone has their own way of celebrating. I know that Red is in the kitchen cooking – and watching a marathon of "The Godfather" movies. Which is perfect as turkeys take such a long time to cook and patience is important when you want it perfectly browned. So inviting, so appetizing, so … naked?
Growing up, our house used to be where everyone congregated for the holidays. Not because my mother was a good cook, or even liked to entertain, but because my parents bought a house on Long Island while the rest of her family continued to live in apartments in Brooklyn and the Bronx. In other words, they had the most room.
Thanksgiving was always a house full of people and everyone always gathered in the kitchen, which made food preparation a challenge. Especially as everyone loved to nibble on ingredients during the process. For the most part, Mom was a good sport about it. But, the closer we got to the turkey being ready, the more food she would move into the dining room, hoping we would follow the food.
I remember one year when the turkey cooling on the counter looked like something from a magazine – it was perfectly browned. Normally, it was splotchy, although you never knew it once my father was done carving it. (Although an engineer, he had dreamed of being a surgeon and every year as I watched him carve the turkey, I would think he missed his true calling.) Anyway, my mother was so proud of this perfectly browned turkey that she would not let anyone near it, and was delaying the inevitable carving.
However, she made the mistake of taking the balance of the side dishes into the dining room and my father must have been helping as my cousin and I snuck back into the kitchen. In a matter of seconds, we had striped that turkey naked. Enjoying the crispy skin (ok, this was well before the days we were told it was "bad" for you) and laughing until my parents returned to see what was causing the commotion.
Mom was less than pleased, while Daddy tried to hide his amusement. My cousin ran to the safety of his parents, while I stood there defiantly asking if could have a wing. To this day, I cannot see a perfectly browned turkey without remembering that Thanksgiving. And, I venture to guess it has become a favorite memory of my Mom's, as well.
So today, at the risk of being warm and fuzzy (which is Red's area of responsibility),
I want to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving … filled with memories that will last a lifetime.