Clarence and Columbo

Over the past few weeks we lost two fabulous men who made a huge impact on many of us who lived through the 70s.  These guys didn’t fit any stereotype and maybe that’s part of the reason we loved them so much.

On June 18, Clarence Clemons died from complications from a stroke.   Springsteen was unlike anything we ever heard, but Clarence added a depth and a beauty with his saxophone that stunned our senses.  Bruce and “The Big Man” forged a friendship that inspired the world and their pairing seemed like poetic destiny. 

Five days later on June 23, Peter Falk, aka Columbo, passed away.  I’ll never forget loving the disheveled detective whose rumpled appearance belied his shrewd observations. His tattered raincoat and old Peugeot only made him all the more charming when mentally sparring with high-powered, self-assured suspects.

Godspeed, guys. You made the 70s fun.

“Make It Do or Do Without” – the Practical Advice of Uncle John

My good friend Jeanne has an uncle in Louisiana who just won a Father Knows Best contest in Baton Rouge. His daughter, Janelle, nominated him for his great advice over the years, including the winning phrase:  “USE IT UP, WEAR IT OUT, MAKE IT DO, OR DO WITHOUT.”

Uncle John is part of a generation who valued what they had and took great care not to waste anything.   Janelle laughs that her dad is the only person who took delight in his house being “rolled” so that he could save the toilet paper.

And what did he get for all his nuggets of wisdom as the Father Knows Best winner?  A La-Z-Boy recliner, of course.

Cat of the Amalfi Coast

I wonder if this cat appreciates the view she has.  She’s got her own sunny ledge atop a gorgeous restaurant on the Amalfi coast.  At Capo D’Orso, she watches over the Mediterranean Sea and is spoiled by the staff. I can only imagine the gourmet leftovers she takes for granted.

If she’s smart, she’ll spend all her nine lives here.

I Left My Sunglasses (and a little bit of my heart) in Ravello

            When Mamma (the owner of Cumpa Cosimo Ristorante) saw me forking over a heaping serving of my Alfredo alla Bolognese to my husband, she would have none of that.  “He's a still hungry; get him another plate," she ordered our waiter.  She also insisted on giving us lemon cake – the best I ever had – and another liter of wine.

            Mamma is definitely what you call a hands-on owner.  She brought out the lemon cake to a table full of diners celebrating a birthday. She told them stories and posed for many a picture.  That’s when she caught me from the corner of her eye sharing my pasta. 

            So blame it on the wine that I forgot my sunglasses.  I can only hope that mamma was dancing around with my Michael Kors shades entertaining another table.  I don’t think I’ll make it the 7 kilometers up that hill to Ravello to retrieve them, so go ahead Mamma.  Have a little UV protection on me. Ciao, Bella.  

Like Grandfather, Like Grandson

Back in 1954, Rich Hofmann (now affectionately known as Poppy), scored Haddon Heights’ winning goal with six seconds remaining to cinch a victory against Audubon and bring home basketball’s coveted SJ Crown.

Fast-forward 57 years.  Poppy’s grandson, Reed, scored a late goal that lifted his lacrosse team to victory over Old Bridge with just 32 seconds left in the game.

Maybe nail-biting victories run in the family.

Funny how the reporters in both articles spelled the name wrong. Some things never change.

Trading Camels for Lice

Here’s another page from my dad’s World War II journal:

When our ship arrived in North Africa the day before Christmas, we were several miles south of the city of Oran.  We marched into the city with full packs and with whatever equipment was necessary and were herded into what was once a livery stable and told to bed down for the night. As there was only a cobble stone floor to sleep on, I knew this was going to be a rough night, so I nosed around and spotted the Arab caretaker who had a little room off to the side of the stable, which contained a flimsy bed with a straw mattress.  My Buddy, Kenny, and I proceeded to negotiate and finally arrived at the bargaining point of a pack of Camel Cigarettes in exchange for the bed for the night. I was awakened several times during the night by an itching sensation, but I was so tired, I paid little attention to it and went back to sleep.

 When I awoke in the morning, both Kenny and I were covered with red blotches all over our bodies. We, of course, made fast tracks to our Unit Doctor, who as soon as he saw us, began to laugh and said “you guys thought you were so smart; now you have body lice, so I’ll have to send you to the Delousing Clinic.”  If anyone has had the experience of a Delousing Clinic, they will understand the uncomfortable and miserable couple of hours that are spent in this tent-like enclosure, and I think for a month, my whole body felt like it was on fire. Of course my buddy Kenny blamed me for making the deal, but you can bet we never again tried to talk someone out of his bed.

Aunt Dottie

I wish I could share my Aunt Dottie with the world. She was so full of life and fun and genuinely cared about what you thought. When Aunt Dottie died a few years ago, a strange thing happened.  My son, who was in a high rise at Boston University, called and told me that a huge black bird was outside his window, circling around. He’d never seen a bird like that so high up and it was as though it was trying to communicate. That’s when I told him that Aunt Dottie had just passed away. 

Aunt Dottie always loved my son and she really encouraged everyone to get a good education. I guess it made perfect sense that she’d stop by on her way out.  She told us she was donating her body to a university hospital because she “always wanted to go to medical school.”  She had a beautiful way to look at and appreciate everything about life. In her own words, she had “reverse paranoia,” she thought everybody liked her.  And everybody did.