Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

ALL MY LIFE'S A CIRCLE

wonderbread. it's not possible to feel ambivalent about wonderbread. the haters even go so far as to deny that it is, indeed, bread. i am not a hater. even today, wonderbread is amazing stuff. a fresh loaf of wonderbread - nothing compares. when your mom brought that fresh loaf out of the bag (the loaf maintains the loaf shape much better when packaged upright in a paper grocery bag. the plastic bags destroy a good loaf of wonderbread, rendering it useless for most culinary delights other than wonderballs), you HAD to have a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk. with the bread (one slice only) folded over - NEVER CUT. never. if you worked the milk and sandwich right, you might be able to avoid having to scrape most of the sandwich off the roof of your mouth with a spoon.

the next best thing to the peanut butter sandwich was two slices of american cheese in between two slices of bread. again, the milk was mandatory. the bread stayed fresh for four or five days at least (i'm not going to ruin my memories by researching the ingredients and the reasons for this). after that, it was toast or grilled cheese sandwiches with campbell's tomato soup.

it's funny how a sound or a smell or a taste brings you right back to another time and place. wonderbread brings me back to brooklyn acres. a housing project in cleveland (brooklyn) administered by the veterans administration to provide low-cost housing for veterans of world war II and their families. i don't know exactly how long we lived there; i was born there, and we stayed until the family fell apart when i was about 6. i think my family lived there for about 10 to 12 years.

my father was a veteran of the navy, having enlisted at 17, serving in the pacific, and earning a purple heart. i don't know the details. he was a hero to us for a while.

there were four girls and my mother and father living in that tiny house. i remember the back "porch" -- really just a couple steps leading up to the back door. the overhang over the door made it a porch to us. the porch from which we hung blankets from the overhang to serve as our stage curtains when we put on our "shows." i have no idea what these "shows" were about. all i remember is that i always insisted that i be the one to wear the deep red corduroy skating skirt with the pink satin lining (go ask your mother what i'm talking about).

the summers were the best. the v.a. building across the street was where we paid our rent, got our shots and medical checkups, and played in the playground while our parents were taking care of business inside. it was also where the v.a. staff sponsored and held children's fairs, contests, parades, and anything else they could think of to do with us to entertain us. i remember bubble blowing contests, bike parades, coloring contests, races, and LOTS of parties. i remember standing in line for our polio shots for hours, while the staff handed out balloons and coloring books and crayons.

the grownups were like mysterious giants to me. we weren't really very well taken care of by my parents. we pretty much took care of ourselves. i remember being left alone when i was 4. well not really alone - if you count my 3-year-old sister. the neighbors were always around for us if we needed them. they fed us and took care of our needs a lot. when i was 5, i attended afternoon kindergarten. i got ready (by myself) and began my mile and a half walk to school by crossing the busy street that ran along the back of our house. i ran and fell on the curb. the car that passed by me stopped to help. i was very badly scraped. i had fallen face first onto the curb, and my face was a bloody mess. mrs.o'malley came out and picked me up and nursed me all afternoon until my older sisters came home from school. and my dad came home from wherever he was. probably a bar or the race track. my mom always worked as a bar maid, she must have been bartending a day job then.

i loved the o'malley family. 10 kids, a mom who didn't work, a loving, always-employed dad, and walter, my best friend. when i wasn't with my sisters, i was with walter. we lived on one corner. the o'malleys were catty-corner to us. the schneiders (their dad was a DOCTOR! and the kids weren't allowed to play with ANYBODY in the projects) were across the street from us on one corner, and paul and paulette's family (i can't remember their last name - just that i had a HUGE crush on paul who looked like paul anka to me) lived on the fourth corner.

every once in a while my parents would host a party. probably 30 more adults crowded into this little house, only possible because there would be a bunch of the men outside smoking, drinking beer, and telling stories. there would be DANCING in the house. yes, DANCING. adults all danced back in those "olden" days. the women would be wearing tight, slim skirts, high heels, and pearls. the men in their suits! and they'd dance. the cha cha. the samba. and slow dancing. in our tiny living room. we four girls would be sneaking out of bed all night long to watch until we were caught. and then we'd sneak back again.

i guess we were poor. i don't really know. i know my parents were always behind with the cheap rent. i know they somehow had enough money to pay for their alcohol. i know my godfather helped. he sent money a lot. that was when mommy grocery shopped. and brought home wonderbread, peanut butter, and american cheese, along with the beer. she'd buy bologna (baloney), too.

wonder balls. formed by taking a fresh piece of wonderbread, eating off the crusts, and forming the soft, soft interior into a ball with your hands. you'd either eat the ball right away or have a wonder ball fight. then you'd eat it. it wasn't gross to us back then.

baloney. ahh. baloney. lunchmeat of the gods. and entertaining, too. kitchen ceilings in 1940's and 1950's houses were different back then. they were smooth. and shiny. they'd be painted with high-gloss white enamel paint so they could be washed. [have you EVER washed a ceiling?] we'd take a slice of baloney, hold it flat in the palm of our hands, and throw it straight up to the ceiling. it would stick. until the weight of the slice of baloney pulled it down enough to release the vacuum and allow it to fall. it was great. except for the round grease marks left on the ceiling that we never thought to clean up on our own. mommy would walk into the kitchen and IMMEDIATELY notice that we had been "throwing baloney at the ceiling again" and THEN we'd clean it up. and be in beeeeg trouble.

the smallest things in your life make an imprint, and you don't have any idea what will come back to you. i love thinking that this date may be a pre-anniversary of great importance to me some day. maybe my first grandchild will be born on this date. something awesome. i look for clues in old date books, year books, newsletters on what those past days may have portended for me/us. i like to think about how people we meet today may someday play vital parts in our lives.

bill and i were FINALLY allowed to go and watch jax play at open mic jam night at mccarthy's pub last night. i've heard jax play. but not with a band. jesus christ, he's good. i mean really good. he played some stevie ray vaughn, some hendrix, and the ubiquitous band song from my day, deep purple's "smoke on the water." i started off with my mouth hanging open in awe, bill said i kept turning around saying "holy fuck!" i don't remember that. i remember turning around to bill during the hendrix song and saying " we made that!" and then i started thinking during "smoke on the water" about the thousands of times we heard that song when we were kids and how crazy it is / blessed we are to be able to sit here and hear it again. like this. so many years - and "moments" - later.

life is sweet.

Posted by Stacey at September 29, 2004 12:32 PM