11. Latch-key kids and dumpsters…being your own guru

I recently saw the quote, “I was a latch-key kid and I turned out just fine” and it brought back many memories from my childhood.  When I turned nine, my older sister went away to college in upstate New York and was no longer around to watch me after school.

At the end of each school day, I would head to the candy store across from my elementary school and buy one of my favorites–either Whoppers, Razzles, or Goldberg Peanut Chews.  The crossing guard would then help me safely across the busy street (Rockaway Parkway) that my school was located on and I would walk the remaining four blocks to my home.

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Once safely inside my house, I would tear into the day’s candy bag while watching my favorite shows, Dukes of Hazzard and Little House on the Prairie. I never felt unsafe or abandoned by my mother and father, who both worked 9-5 to help our family of four stay afloat.

Among my close friends, I was the only latch-key kid.  All my girlfriends had stay-at-home moms that greeted them each afternoon with a special snack, hug, and help with their homework.  I learned to make my own snack, was satisfied with the furry hug and wet slobber of my German Shepard-Collie mix, and worked out each math problem all by myself.

None of this really bothered me.  In fact, many of my friends enjoyed coming to MY house after school where we could do homework and play without a meddling parent around. So each day, alone or with a friend, I was without an adult until my mother arrived home between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m.

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It was only during the summer months that I resented the fact that both my parents worked.  It was during these months that I wanted to be like everyone else and have my mother around to take me to the town pool or beach where I could meet up with friends and family and enjoy beach picnics and treats from the ice cream man.  Instead, I was shipped off, like a boarding school kid, to a day camp located nearly an hour from my house.

At first I was quite resistant to going away to camp mainly, because I wanted to spend the summer with my friends.  My mother assured me I would make new friends–special “camp friends” that I would get to see every summer when I returned to camp.  Returned?!?! I couldn’t believe my mother expected me to go back again the following year!!

As usual, my mother was right.  I did make wonderfully special “camp friends” that first year.  I enjoyed many activities such as swimming, hiking, art, canoeing, and so much more.  I even helped lead my camp group to a first place win in the talent show by choreographing the moves to our “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” musical skit.

In addition to making new friends, I also discovered a side of myself that had yet to emerge—that of a leader. Among my school friends back home, I had always been more of a follower than a leader.  As one of the tallest girls in my grade who also went through quite the ‘awkward stage’ in my pre-teen years, I enjoyed blending in with the pack, rather than standing out.  But in camp, my wallflower tendencies melted away in the hot, summer sun.  I was not shy and was unafraid to stand out in the crowd…in fact, I kind of liked it!

On the last day of camp, we all boarded the bus to go to the movies together.  The new comedy, Airplane was playing and we were all excited to see it!  As we exited the bus, we eagerly chatted about who would sit next to who, what snacks we would buy at the concession stand, and how happy we were that we would be seeing each other the following summer.

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We walked single file through the parking lot toward the theater’s entrance.  As we approached a big dumpster in the parking lot, I watched as each student walked dangerously close to the dumpster and when arriving at the long metal arm used for lifting, they ducked under the metal piece as if they were doing the dumpster limbo!  One by one, each student ducked in time, safely passing under the metal arm.  Each time a student passed under, I thought to myself, “That was close…I’m not sure I want to do this.”

Soon, it was my turn and I had to decide whether I would step safely around the dumpster or follow all the campers before me and duck under the arm.  At the last second, I made the decision and like all the others before me, I followed their lead and began to duck under the dumpster’s arm.  Unfortunately, I did not account for my height and I misjudged my ducking, slamming my forehead into the metal arm with ample force.

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Within minutes, the bump on my head swelled to the size of an orange!  My counselors gave me an ice pack and had me sit in the theater’s lobby, not far from the tasty popcorn and snacks I would no longer be enjoying.  All my friends headed into the theater while I waited for my mother to make the long journey to pick me up and take me home.  I could hear the sounds of laughter coming from the theater and sat there quietly sobbing from the pain of my injury and the sadness of missing out on our end of camp excursion.

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So, what have I learned from my nine-year old self? Well, as a latch-key kid, I learned independence, something that is not given freely or at least early in today’s age of helicopter parenting.  I have tried to be less coddling with my daughter and have seen her maturity and independence grow in leaps and bounds because of it.

In that moment when I had to decide whether to step around the dumpster or follow the other campers under the metal arm, I had the opportunity to not only be smart, but bold and step around the path of ‘followers.’ I could have lead others behind me to do the same but instead, resorted to my follower mentality. For that, life rewarded me with a figurative and literal whack on the head!

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As I stepped up to that dumpster and prepared to duck under its metal arm, I ignored my inner voice, my personal guru, telling me what action I should take.

We all look for answers in our lives…answers that will help guide us to make the best decisions in our personal lives, careers, finances, etc. Many of us have our go-to advisers, those people we look to when we face difficult choices.  It’s important to have these people in our lives to give us an outside perspective that we may not see ourselves.  However, after listening to this advice, it’s important to keep in mind that—“you are the expert on you” and know what the best choice is deep within your core.

“I am serious” when I tell you that…

         You are today, and will always continue to be, “your own best guru!”

So, trust that voice and follow your own path and please, “don’t call me Shirley!!!” 🤣🤣🤣

guru2 I had almost forgotten this story until recently, when discussing the movie, Airplane with the man I’m seeing, J.  We were quoting lines from the movie, a game we like to play to see if we can stump the other…a game I usually lose.  All of a sudden, I was transported back to that theater and saw my nine-year-old self sitting pitifully in the lobby, with a huge knot on my forehead.  I shared the story with J and he suggested it would be a great topic for my next blog post. So, here is my shout out to him for helping me recall this memory and encouraging me to share it with my small, but hopefully growing, group of followers. 😘😘

Peace ☺ and love♥

6. Seeing red…through Barney’s Purple Dinosaur head

This week’s theme is something I am quite familiar with…embarrassing moments.  We’ve all had our share but some of us, me in particular, have had a larger share than most.  I used to think these moments came to me frequently because of bad luck or terrible timing but as I grew older, I realized that some embarrassing moments can actually be blessings in ‘disguise.’  It just so happens that in this story, I was WEARING a disguise—that of Barney, the Purple Dinosaur.

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I know what you’re thinking…you HATE Barney.  I couldn’t agree more.  I despised him before I was a mother, during my daughter’s toddler years, and even up until this day. His voice and his songs are like nails on a chalkboard.  When he begins to skip around singing, “I love you and you love me…” I have the strong urge to hurl…hurl something at the television and even hurl my lunch.  So now that we are on the same page about how strongly we all detest Barney, I can explain just how I wound up being him for a period of two weeks!

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During my freshman year of college in Boston, my father fell on hard times. He had spiraled downward after my mother’s death and soon after, he lost his job and my childhood home.  The university I was attending was an expensive one, and even with scholarship and financial aid, I could not afford to stay there.  I moved back to Long Island before freshman year ended and moved into an apartment with my sister.  My plan was to attend Nassau Community College at night and work during the day to earn enough money to return to my beloved Boston.  I got a job working as an assistant to the Box Office Manager at Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, which was the perfect location since it was directly across the street from the community college I was attending.

For an eighteen year old girl, it was a dream job.  I loved my coworkers, many of them around my age, and all the perks that went along with the job.  I could see concerts, Islander games, and any other event there for free.  Another huge perk was that I got to meet and even befriend many athletes, musicians, and other interesting people.  There was even opportunity to make extra money.

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Nassau Coliseum concourse (as it appeared in the early 90’s)

For two weeks each summer, the Coliseum hosted a big outdoor fair with rides, games, and entertainment.  They offered the staff the opportunity to work certain jobs, such as manning the ticket or information booths, but there were only several positions available so you had to act fast.  Unfortunately, I had waited too long to tell the big boss that I was interested in working the fair.

“I’m sorry but there are no more positions available,” the general manager told me.

“There has to be something I could do,” I pleaded.

It was at that moment, that my friend, Rich, who worked in marketing, interjected, “What about Barney?”

They both looked at me with mischievous smiles on their faces.  It was as if the trap had been set and I had found my way directly into their 6-foot purple snare. Desperate, I agreed to take the position, one I was assured was a “piece of cake.” For future reference, anytime anyone describes something as a “piece of cake,” be leery because they are most likely lying to you.

Wearing the costume was extremely uncomfortable and smelled as if hundreds before me had spent many hours sweating in it, which of course, they had. It was a massive costume made up of two parts-a big furry body and a huge dinosaur head.  The nostrils in the dinosaur’s snout were the only openings and provided an obstructed view of my surroundings.  For this reason, I had a young girl accompany me around the fair.  She guided me as best she could around people, over the many wires of food trucks and carnival rides, and stopped me frequently to meet and greet my many fans.  Kids and adults of all ages hugged, kissed, and high-fived me throughout the night.

In the summer heat, it was not long before I was overheated and begging to get out of the costume. But I had a schedule to follow and was not allowed to end my shift until 8 p.m. each night. Another rule was that I could not talk nor could I remove any part of the costume in the presence of fans. My favorite part of each night was when I finally made it into the building’s concourse, waved at my adoring young fans through the glass windows one last time, and entered the privacy of the elevator that would take me back to my office.  Once inside the elevator, the massive head came off and I could see and breathe once again!!

On the last night of my stint as the big purple guy, there was a concert going on inside the Coliseum. Thousands of Lynyrd Skyryrd fans had packed the Coliseum to see the great Southern hard-rock band play.  As in the nights before this night, I happily made my way with my escort’s help to the door leading into the Coliseum’s concourse at 8:00 p.m. sharp.  My young fans followed me and pressed their faces against the glass, calling, “Barney!! Bye Barney,” waving as they sadly watched me head toward the elevator.

It was at this precise moment that the opening band for Lynyrd Skynard had finished their set and masses of fans spilled into the concourse for MORE refreshments.  I say more, because it soon became clear that these fans had already partaken in MANY alcoholic refreshments prior to this time.  Soon the young voices sadly saying “Bye Barney” were drowned out by the deep voices of many men shouting loudly, “Barney…hey Barney!”  Within seconds, I smelled the stench of beer. Through the nostril holes, I could make out the burly, tattooed forearms of these men as they surrounded me and began to jostle me back and forth like a human, or rather prehistoric, ping-pong ball.

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Soon, the screams from the children outside were heard as they looked on with horror as their precious Barney was being attacked. The situation was becoming more frightening as the seconds passed and I lost sight of my escort.  I was about to take my head off and scream, “I’m not Barney!  There’s a girl in here that you are attacking!!” but I didn’t want to traumatize the young fans any more than they already had been.  I pushed with all my might to get through the crowd but each time I did, I was pushed back again.  Luckily, a security guard showed up and got me safely to the elevator.

Once inside, I ripped off the dinosaur head and tried desperately to calm myself.  My face was bright red, flushed from heat, fear, and anger as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. The security guard that rescued me helped me remove the rest of the costume and gave me some water to drink. Once it was clear that I was okay, we broke out into a fit of laughter that lasted the rest of the evening.

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That security guard wound up becoming one of my closest friends and we spent many a night reminiscing about the embarrassing (and frightening) moment when I was attacked by Lynyrd Skynyrd fans while wearing a Barney costume. It was our story…one that bound our friendship. Because I could laugh about it (or rather because I survived TO laugh about it), I was able to turn a negative event into a positive one.

So, when you find yourself in an embarrassing or awkward situation, one that you think you may never recover from…remember my story.  As the saying goes, you may not be able to control what happens to you, but you can control how you deal with it.  In most cases, your best option is to just laugh out loud and with luck, you may be blessed with someone wonderful to laugh along with you!

Peace ☺ and love ♥

4. Sock, sock, shoe, shoe…what about you?

As I mentioned in my last post, this week’s theme is:  The Quirks of Daily Routine.  I say quirks here because what is normal for some, may seem absolutely crazy to others.  From the moment you wake up until the moment you rest your head on the pillow each night, you follow certain patterns or routines. I had never really given the subject much thought until this past week when a friend and neighbor posted a question on Facebook about whether there were others out there, like herself, who put socks and shoes on in the order-sock, shoe, sock, shoe.

allinthefamily**Click the picture above for the link to the video clip!

This post soon blew up, mostly with comments calling my friend and her routine insane.  Time and again, she stood her ‘one socked and shoed’ ground, deflecting all the negative comments with humor and many smiley emojis ☺☺.

Even when a friend challenged her by discussing the dangers of her routine, she did not falter.  The question was posed, “If a fire or other emergency were to occur in the middle of your one-at-a-time foot-dressing, wouldn’t it be dangerous if only one of your feet were protected from the cold and dirty ground when you ran outside to safety?”

A valid point, I thought.  But my friend adeptly dealt with this scenario stating that because her one foot was so well protected with both sock AND shoe, she could stand on that foot, like a flamingo and hop to safety. She further argued that at least she would have one dressed and protected foot whereas everyone else would soon have two cold feet in their single sock layer!

After reading her comments, I was intrigued by this sock-shoe dilemma so I turned to the one source that is always there for me when I am faced with life’s big questions…Google!  It turns out this very debate was first exposed in an episode of the 1970’s hit comedy, All in the Family. In the episode titled, Gloria Sings the Blues, Archie Bunker tries to correct his son-in-law, Michael (Meathead), who puts his sock and then shoe on one foot. Like my friend, Meathead is left defending his routine up until the time Archie storms out of the room ordering him to start doing it the “right way.”

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Which leads me to the bigger question here…who decides what the right and wrong way is to put on your socks and shoes?  Or the direction you load the toilet paper?  Or the way you live your life?

At the end of the day, the only person that can decide the right way is YOU.  People may not like your choices or decisions.  They may call you crazy and criticize your ways. But you keep doing you and face that criticism with humor and lots of smiley emojis ☺☺

And if the negative energy the nay-sayers send your way start to bring you down, you just hop, like a flamingo, as far away from them as you can. Your one strong, protected foot will carry you further in life because you are not afraid to do things YOUR way,