Page Thirty-Seven.
Does you kid have learning disabilities? Here's an interesting story for you.
My primary education years saw me as a less then stellar student. In junior high, I had awful report cards. In high school they got a little bit better, but that's not saying much. I always attributed my poor grades to complete disinterest, deadly procrastination and teenaged distractions. I graduated from Cleveland Heights High School in 1980 anyhow.
By the time I got to Cleveland State University the first time, '82-'83, my grades improved, however microscopically. When I went back to CSU in '86 they were quite stable in the C plus B minus range. This really bugged me 'cause I knew I was capable of better. Now, I should admit that homework wasn't my strong suit, nor was studying in general. I certainly didn't have teenaged distractions anymore, but I rarely found myself just sitting and studying. My friends tried to help. They gave me books on how to study and tried to teach me good study techniques. The problem was that every suggestion they gave me required me to sit and well... study. I just couldn't do it. Nothing worked. I really was very upset over the fact that I just couldn't magically get good grades. I was having serious issues over this.
But I kept on going. I was a psychology major the first couple of years. But as my interests are very diverse, I took many classes in art, science, english and anything else which fit into my schedule. I flunked the occasional class, too. For example, my psych major required that I take statistics. But I flunked. Then, for the general college requirement, I had to take some advanced math, which I did in the form of logic, which I flunked. In the foreign language category: well... um... first I went to Israel to learn Hebrew... flunked. Then, I came back and took Italian. Flunked. Then I took Spanish... flunked. These F's all translated to the occasional Academic Probation on my report card. I discovered though, that when I took an art or science class I could simply show up and get a decent grade. In art I rarely got lower than a B (mostly I got A's) and in science if I simply graced the doorway to the class I got a C. (And, as I didn't do homework, gracing a room and getting a C was fine with me.) So I took extra studio art and science classes whenever I needed to artificially increase my GPA to avoid being kicked out. Incidentally, I eventually switched majors from Psych to Interpersonal Communications because I couldn't pass statistics.
You see, I was good at showing up for class and remembering what happened there. But the moment outside work was required, there were problems. I was fine with projects or reports. I'd work on those. But general studying... no, no, no! For tests I rarely studied (even in science.) As the years wore on I acclimating to my low GPA, again about 2.5, but I was also getting concerned about my imminent graduation. Israel was in '89 and Italian was in '90. And I couldn't pass a stinkin' math class to save my life. In '90, as a new senior, I went to see my guidance counselor for some unrelated issue and she noticed the inconsistencies. She suggested that I might have some form of learning disabilities as my strengths and weakness appeared to be textbook cases. She said that I should get tested and perhaps the school could work with me on their requirements.
A few weeks after she said that, I started doing the hair of a new client. Jeannie was very pretty and charming. As I was doing her hair in her recently renovated, stunningly beautiful Cleveland Heights Arts and Crafts home, I asked what she did for a living. "I own and operate Penobscott Learning Centers. We tutor kids in SAT's. We also tutor kids who are having problems in school. And we test for learning disabilities."
Well at that point, I knew that the Great Spirit of the Universe was in my corner. I told her my story and she said, "Of course we can test you!" A few weeks later, I was sitting in her office and we were testing. It actually took a couple of days.
A couple of weeks after that I went to get the results. "Jeremy, let me ask you a question. the first time you walked into my house, a couple of months ago, what did I serve you for a beverage?"
"Raspberry New York Setzer."
"That's incredible."
"What?"
"Your memory for detail. According to my tests, you're hyperactive, slightly dyslexic, you have a huge problem integrating symbols and you're smarter than average. You remember what you hear, more than what you see. You have no focus and can't pay attention. And your memory for detail is off the scale. Because of the nature of your symbol problem, I'm sure you could eventually get any foreign language or mathematical concept if you just sat and studied a little bit longer than the average person. The problem is that you can't sit."
"You mean there are real reasons I can't sit?"
"Yes. You're hyperactive. If you could sit, you'd be fine. Over the years you have learned to overcompensate. That's why you remember what you hear so well. Your attendance is great because on some level you know that you're going to have to remember things for tests. And you know you won't study. So you essentially taught yourself to memorize what professors say, while they're saying them."
"So what do I do now?"
"Let me write a letter to the university. We'll see if they stick by what they said and waive some requirements."
To be continued...
Friday, February 15, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
China Gate
Page Thirty-Six.
China Gate Restaurant recently re-opened. That's a place just a few miles east of me in Cedar Center which is a plaza on Cedar Road in South Euclid, Ohio. Cedar Center was one of the shopping district where I grew up. A May Company Department Store anchored it, and then there were a couple dozen stores which lined both sides of this very busy street. We shopped there a lot when I was a kid.
Cedar Center was built in the forties as that part of town became more residential. In fact, The May Company was built on an old golf course. According to the 1960 census, Shaker Heights, Ohio was the wealthiest suburb in America and Cedar Center catered to that population to a certain degree. According to some urban legelnd from the sixties or seventies, the five mile radius around Cedar Center had the highest level of disposable income per capita of any spot in America. I don't know if that's true or not, but it could be, and any long-time Cleveland resident knows it. That five mile radius would have included Shaker, Cleveland Heights, Beachwood, Pepper Pike and other very wealthy enclaves.
Cedar Center had a wide variety of stores: gift shops, drug stores, clothing stores - your typical mix. It also had the usual restaurants. Mawby's, Solomon's Corky & Lenny's and China Gate. There were two Mawby's, the other on Lee Road here in Cleveland Heights. I don't remember them real well but you'll still hear Mawby's brought up in conversations at cocktail parties among long-time Cleveland residents. Apparently they had the world's best burgers. Solomon's and Corky & Lenny's were both fancy deli fare. I have no memory of any difference between the two, but I don't doubt that any old Jew in Cleveland right now could be brought to fisticuffs when engaging in argument over which was better. Corky's still exists and does a bang up job in their location at Village Square in Woodmere, where they moved in the eighties.
Then there was China Gate. This was the style of Chinese food that put the 1950's on the map. Cantonese style Chop Suey, Egg Foo Young, Chicken Chow Mein, BBQ Ribs... and all with florescent red sweet 'n sour sauce on the side. It was so exotic. There were the plastic palm trees in the corners. The front windows had colorful beads as curtains. Everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY remembers the Lava Lamp on the front counter. What a Lava Lamp has to do with China, you weren't supposed to ask, but it was cool. And then there was the wooden screen which led into the dining room. Between the foyer and dining room was, well, a wooden screen which had Chinese scroll work cut into it. The screen was the entire width and height of the place and smack dab in the middle, on top, above the entryway, was the Jewish Star of David. A smarter Chinese restaurant owner never existed.
I guess China Gate originally was downtown somewhere and then moved east with the post WWII suburb explosion. They quickly became an institution. We ate there at least as often as Mawby's, Corky's or Solomon's when I was little. It was simply THE Chinese place you went to. That's it.
So, in about 2004 or 2005, the reconstruction of Cedar Center began. It was done in two parts because one side of the street is in University Heights and the other is in, again, South Euclid. The University Heights side, which was rebuilt first, got a new Whole Foods and gobs of new stores. It's very nice. So then they tear down the other side of the street, including China Gate, in '06 or '07. Whoops!!! I don't know which fell faster, those buildings or the stock market. I'm sure those few acres looked worse than downtown Kabul for the next few years. It was too depressing for words. There were stories in The Cleveland Plain Dealer and on the local news about the delays in rebuilding Cedar Center. That's how high profile this little 500 foot plaza is in Cleveland.
But all bad things must come to an end and they finally started rebuilding in '11. All the buildings have been in place for a few months now and tenants have been moving back in. Last fall I went into the new national chain family dining place; no comment (it sucked). But last August or so there was an article in the paper which said that China Gate would be re-opening sometime. Then they put the storefront sign up in December and people went bonkers. Everybody was hoping they'd be open by Christmas but apparently there were delays in getting the appliances hooked up. But about a week ago, I noticed that the "open" sign ws on. I'd heard in advance that the new place is take-out only. Oh well. I'll miss the Jewish star though. I think I'll go there for dinner tonight. Yummm!!! "1950's style sweet 'n sour chicken come to daddy."
... The line was out the door and I didn't feel like waiting. I picked up a menu and will order later in the week. There is seating inside too. Not much mind you, but enough for about ten people. They'll do a great business.
China Gate Restaurant recently re-opened. That's a place just a few miles east of me in Cedar Center which is a plaza on Cedar Road in South Euclid, Ohio. Cedar Center was one of the shopping district where I grew up. A May Company Department Store anchored it, and then there were a couple dozen stores which lined both sides of this very busy street. We shopped there a lot when I was a kid.
Cedar Center was built in the forties as that part of town became more residential. In fact, The May Company was built on an old golf course. According to the 1960 census, Shaker Heights, Ohio was the wealthiest suburb in America and Cedar Center catered to that population to a certain degree. According to some urban legelnd from the sixties or seventies, the five mile radius around Cedar Center had the highest level of disposable income per capita of any spot in America. I don't know if that's true or not, but it could be, and any long-time Cleveland resident knows it. That five mile radius would have included Shaker, Cleveland Heights, Beachwood, Pepper Pike and other very wealthy enclaves.
Cedar Center had a wide variety of stores: gift shops, drug stores, clothing stores - your typical mix. It also had the usual restaurants. Mawby's, Solomon's Corky & Lenny's and China Gate. There were two Mawby's, the other on Lee Road here in Cleveland Heights. I don't remember them real well but you'll still hear Mawby's brought up in conversations at cocktail parties among long-time Cleveland residents. Apparently they had the world's best burgers. Solomon's and Corky & Lenny's were both fancy deli fare. I have no memory of any difference between the two, but I don't doubt that any old Jew in Cleveland right now could be brought to fisticuffs when engaging in argument over which was better. Corky's still exists and does a bang up job in their location at Village Square in Woodmere, where they moved in the eighties.
Then there was China Gate. This was the style of Chinese food that put the 1950's on the map. Cantonese style Chop Suey, Egg Foo Young, Chicken Chow Mein, BBQ Ribs... and all with florescent red sweet 'n sour sauce on the side. It was so exotic. There were the plastic palm trees in the corners. The front windows had colorful beads as curtains. Everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY remembers the Lava Lamp on the front counter. What a Lava Lamp has to do with China, you weren't supposed to ask, but it was cool. And then there was the wooden screen which led into the dining room. Between the foyer and dining room was, well, a wooden screen which had Chinese scroll work cut into it. The screen was the entire width and height of the place and smack dab in the middle, on top, above the entryway, was the Jewish Star of David. A smarter Chinese restaurant owner never existed.
I guess China Gate originally was downtown somewhere and then moved east with the post WWII suburb explosion. They quickly became an institution. We ate there at least as often as Mawby's, Corky's or Solomon's when I was little. It was simply THE Chinese place you went to. That's it.
So, in about 2004 or 2005, the reconstruction of Cedar Center began. It was done in two parts because one side of the street is in University Heights and the other is in, again, South Euclid. The University Heights side, which was rebuilt first, got a new Whole Foods and gobs of new stores. It's very nice. So then they tear down the other side of the street, including China Gate, in '06 or '07. Whoops!!! I don't know which fell faster, those buildings or the stock market. I'm sure those few acres looked worse than downtown Kabul for the next few years. It was too depressing for words. There were stories in The Cleveland Plain Dealer and on the local news about the delays in rebuilding Cedar Center. That's how high profile this little 500 foot plaza is in Cleveland.
But all bad things must come to an end and they finally started rebuilding in '11. All the buildings have been in place for a few months now and tenants have been moving back in. Last fall I went into the new national chain family dining place; no comment (it sucked). But last August or so there was an article in the paper which said that China Gate would be re-opening sometime. Then they put the storefront sign up in December and people went bonkers. Everybody was hoping they'd be open by Christmas but apparently there were delays in getting the appliances hooked up. But about a week ago, I noticed that the "open" sign ws on. I'd heard in advance that the new place is take-out only. Oh well. I'll miss the Jewish star though. I think I'll go there for dinner tonight. Yummm!!! "1950's style sweet 'n sour chicken come to daddy."
... The line was out the door and I didn't feel like waiting. I picked up a menu and will order later in the week. There is seating inside too. Not much mind you, but enough for about ten people. They'll do a great business.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Too Many Children's Haircuts
Page Thirty-Five.
One day in about '90 or '91, I had hair appointments all day long. Actually, I only had two stops but at each house I had multiple clients. One home was here in Cleveland Heights, the other was in a suburb farther east, Gates Mills. The nearby stop was first. There, I cut the oldest son: age twelve, the middle son: ten, and the youngest son: eight. In Gates Mills, I cut the oldest son: age six, son number two: four, the next son: three and the baby: eighteen months. That was it for that day. I don't mind kids, really I don't. But until the day I die, I'll never, ever forget that experience. I was so exhausted by the time I got home, I thought I would drop dead. The people who work in those salons that specialize in children should be canonized. Maybe they're masochists?
One day in about '90 or '91, I had hair appointments all day long. Actually, I only had two stops but at each house I had multiple clients. One home was here in Cleveland Heights, the other was in a suburb farther east, Gates Mills. The nearby stop was first. There, I cut the oldest son: age twelve, the middle son: ten, and the youngest son: eight. In Gates Mills, I cut the oldest son: age six, son number two: four, the next son: three and the baby: eighteen months. That was it for that day. I don't mind kids, really I don't. But until the day I die, I'll never, ever forget that experience. I was so exhausted by the time I got home, I thought I would drop dead. The people who work in those salons that specialize in children should be canonized. Maybe they're masochists?
Friday, February 8, 2013
High Tea
Page Thirty-Four.
On page thirty-three, I spoke of the fashion shows at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home. Today, I'll talk of the High Teas.
They started simply enough. I began realizing relatively early on in my employ there that nursing home residents don't get to eat "special food" very often, if at all. By special food I mean: party food, exotic food, unhealthy but scrumptious food, food they've never tried before, food you'd have at a new restaurant... anything out of the ordinary. This was in no way a judgement call on the dietary department, it's simply not possible to realistically give the residents mini quiches, spinach-filled phylo dough or tiramisu on their lunch trays. It cannot be done.
So sometime in my first year there, I asked my boss to approve a plan whereby I'd go out and by lots of frozen exotica (read: large budget) and then on one of my scheduled Sundays, the afternoon activity would be High Tea. I'd make all the food myself, brew up the tea and serve it. We'd then just enjoy good food together. This activity would be for the highest functioning residents of the home. She approved it and I did it.
Well, the residents LOVED it. And I did again a few months later and this time a few family members attended. It was more work than you can imagine but everybody, all three dozen attendees, had such a good time it was worth my poor fingers dripping off my bones. Front office had some problems though. They felt it was too exclusive and that I was segregating the residents. If I wanted to do a whole house affair, then fine - do one. But to have an affair such as this but limited to only the highest functioning in the house, well they felt it just reeked of red velvet rope.
Soooooo, I opened it up to the whole house, all one hundred and fifty residents. Have you ever made heavy hors d'oeuvres for one fifty? I still get nightmares. Actually, I never saw more than about half the house come, but many brought loved ones with them. So, again, back to about one fifty or so. The problem here is that I've never catered in my life. I simply didn't know how to cook for those numbers. I'm sure Martha could do it with both arms tied behind her back and blindfolded. In my case, it was nothing short of miraculous that I got the thing on at all.
People did help. I didn't know that I was allowed to delegate, but people absolutely helped. Co-workers, residents' family members and volunteers all helped out. Also, I eventually learned that dietary was more than happy to aid. In fact, I ended up putting a certain amount of the food ordering through dietary because they were able to rationalize the budget better than activities. They really surprised me with the diversity they were able to provide.They couldn't necessarily illustrate their capabilities on a daily basis, but on occasions like this they supplemented what I did beautifully. They also would always cook a lighter dinner that night knowing full well that half the house would be full.
Once these things really reached their peak I hired musicians to play nice music and often there would be themes. I always covered Mother's Day; my co-workers in activities appreciated that. (It's nice to have big Mother's Day extravaganzas in any nursing home. With me doing high tea it freed my boss up from having to come up with something.) I always decorated the community room and put out the fine linen for the events. I used the nice silver trays and the ladies eventually got into the habit of dressing up a little. The ten or so that I did were sort of a fancy affairs. Our own little Ascot Races, if you will.
Let me tell you something, putting on events like this requires the cooperation of every single department. I worked so closely with everybody, it was just ridiculous. Making sure the community room is properly cleaned and prepped; making sure the tables and chairs are set out; getting the linens, plates and flatware in place, consulting dietary/menu planning/ordering food; decorating; PR/advertising; arranging transport for the residents; not one single department is exempt. (And I'm doing all these while simultaneously doing my regular job coordinating activities on the two dementia units.) But those residents loved it. They got to be fifty years old again and going to fancy evening affairs. I was so exhausted I wanted to collapse. But it was worth it.
On page thirty-three, I spoke of the fashion shows at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home. Today, I'll talk of the High Teas.
They started simply enough. I began realizing relatively early on in my employ there that nursing home residents don't get to eat "special food" very often, if at all. By special food I mean: party food, exotic food, unhealthy but scrumptious food, food they've never tried before, food you'd have at a new restaurant... anything out of the ordinary. This was in no way a judgement call on the dietary department, it's simply not possible to realistically give the residents mini quiches, spinach-filled phylo dough or tiramisu on their lunch trays. It cannot be done.
So sometime in my first year there, I asked my boss to approve a plan whereby I'd go out and by lots of frozen exotica (read: large budget) and then on one of my scheduled Sundays, the afternoon activity would be High Tea. I'd make all the food myself, brew up the tea and serve it. We'd then just enjoy good food together. This activity would be for the highest functioning residents of the home. She approved it and I did it.
Well, the residents LOVED it. And I did again a few months later and this time a few family members attended. It was more work than you can imagine but everybody, all three dozen attendees, had such a good time it was worth my poor fingers dripping off my bones. Front office had some problems though. They felt it was too exclusive and that I was segregating the residents. If I wanted to do a whole house affair, then fine - do one. But to have an affair such as this but limited to only the highest functioning in the house, well they felt it just reeked of red velvet rope.
Soooooo, I opened it up to the whole house, all one hundred and fifty residents. Have you ever made heavy hors d'oeuvres for one fifty? I still get nightmares. Actually, I never saw more than about half the house come, but many brought loved ones with them. So, again, back to about one fifty or so. The problem here is that I've never catered in my life. I simply didn't know how to cook for those numbers. I'm sure Martha could do it with both arms tied behind her back and blindfolded. In my case, it was nothing short of miraculous that I got the thing on at all.
People did help. I didn't know that I was allowed to delegate, but people absolutely helped. Co-workers, residents' family members and volunteers all helped out. Also, I eventually learned that dietary was more than happy to aid. In fact, I ended up putting a certain amount of the food ordering through dietary because they were able to rationalize the budget better than activities. They really surprised me with the diversity they were able to provide.They couldn't necessarily illustrate their capabilities on a daily basis, but on occasions like this they supplemented what I did beautifully. They also would always cook a lighter dinner that night knowing full well that half the house would be full.
Once these things really reached their peak I hired musicians to play nice music and often there would be themes. I always covered Mother's Day; my co-workers in activities appreciated that. (It's nice to have big Mother's Day extravaganzas in any nursing home. With me doing high tea it freed my boss up from having to come up with something.) I always decorated the community room and put out the fine linen for the events. I used the nice silver trays and the ladies eventually got into the habit of dressing up a little. The ten or so that I did were sort of a fancy affairs. Our own little Ascot Races, if you will.
Let me tell you something, putting on events like this requires the cooperation of every single department. I worked so closely with everybody, it was just ridiculous. Making sure the community room is properly cleaned and prepped; making sure the tables and chairs are set out; getting the linens, plates and flatware in place, consulting dietary/menu planning/ordering food; decorating; PR/advertising; arranging transport for the residents; not one single department is exempt. (And I'm doing all these while simultaneously doing my regular job coordinating activities on the two dementia units.) But those residents loved it. They got to be fifty years old again and going to fancy evening affairs. I was so exhausted I wanted to collapse. But it was worth it.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Nursing Home Fashion Shows
Page Thirty-Three.
While working at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home, from spring of '03 until autumn of '06, I ended up making a name for myself on a couple different fronts. I was technically in charge of activities for the two dementia units. But, I also started some new whole house activities; created some unusual Christmas decorating and established a vintage hat collection. Concerning the whole house activities: I started a series of fashion shows and I established a series of high teas. Today, I'm going to talk about the fashion shows.
I actually discovered the concept of nursing home fashion shows while working at University Hospitals, my previous job. U.H. had an association with one of the local private girl's schools whereby the students came in once a year and strutted around in their finery. Where that tradition began, I'm not sure, but I then ran with it.
At Fancy-Shmancy, I was bored one day and told my boss about these shows and suggested that we do them. "Sure, Jeremy. Wonderful idea! Get right on it."
"Who me? That's way too much work for MY delicate system."
"Yes, you."
So I called around and got in touch with the headmaster of a local girl's school, explained my need and he put me in touch with the student council president. She simply LOVED the idea. I forget if this was spring or autumn so I can't tell you if the initial offerings were prom or homecoming fashions but either way the girls and the old ladies all had a "simply marvelous" afternoon. I have a theory: all teenaged girls love to show off their clothing and all old ladies love to look at pretty teenaged girls who are dressed beautifully. If you disagree with my theory, that's okay. It's just a theory.
My shows were always on Sunday afternoons and had light refreshments accompanying. Also, to elongate the afternoon's entertainment, I created a series of slides. I would then supplement the live models with a slide show which illustrated more fashion: current, old Hollywood or ridiculously high-end - anything fun and exciting.
I was always the host and commentator but the girls wrote out my cheat sheets in advance so I didn't have to work too terribly hard. Occasionally, I had help hosting. I had a co-worker who, in a previous career, worked in high-end fashion retail and she helped me comment on at least one occasion and maybe more. As a team we were great. For another show, I phoned around and got a well-known fashion expert who used to own one of Shaker Heights' finer dress shops to come on in and comment.
It got to the point where I printed up flyers and advertised, letting family members know about the shows. A lot of family showed up too. People had a great time. All in all, these shows, for all the work they took, were original and entertaining and the old ladies loved them. They were also low budget, always a plus in a nursing home.
While working at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home, from spring of '03 until autumn of '06, I ended up making a name for myself on a couple different fronts. I was technically in charge of activities for the two dementia units. But, I also started some new whole house activities; created some unusual Christmas decorating and established a vintage hat collection. Concerning the whole house activities: I started a series of fashion shows and I established a series of high teas. Today, I'm going to talk about the fashion shows.
I actually discovered the concept of nursing home fashion shows while working at University Hospitals, my previous job. U.H. had an association with one of the local private girl's schools whereby the students came in once a year and strutted around in their finery. Where that tradition began, I'm not sure, but I then ran with it.
At Fancy-Shmancy, I was bored one day and told my boss about these shows and suggested that we do them. "Sure, Jeremy. Wonderful idea! Get right on it."
"Who me? That's way too much work for MY delicate system."
"Yes, you."
So I called around and got in touch with the headmaster of a local girl's school, explained my need and he put me in touch with the student council president. She simply LOVED the idea. I forget if this was spring or autumn so I can't tell you if the initial offerings were prom or homecoming fashions but either way the girls and the old ladies all had a "simply marvelous" afternoon. I have a theory: all teenaged girls love to show off their clothing and all old ladies love to look at pretty teenaged girls who are dressed beautifully. If you disagree with my theory, that's okay. It's just a theory.
My shows were always on Sunday afternoons and had light refreshments accompanying. Also, to elongate the afternoon's entertainment, I created a series of slides. I would then supplement the live models with a slide show which illustrated more fashion: current, old Hollywood or ridiculously high-end - anything fun and exciting.
I was always the host and commentator but the girls wrote out my cheat sheets in advance so I didn't have to work too terribly hard. Occasionally, I had help hosting. I had a co-worker who, in a previous career, worked in high-end fashion retail and she helped me comment on at least one occasion and maybe more. As a team we were great. For another show, I phoned around and got a well-known fashion expert who used to own one of Shaker Heights' finer dress shops to come on in and comment.
It got to the point where I printed up flyers and advertised, letting family members know about the shows. A lot of family showed up too. People had a great time. All in all, these shows, for all the work they took, were original and entertaining and the old ladies loved them. They were also low budget, always a plus in a nursing home.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Tea With Brini
Page Thirty-Two.
Around '90, I received a phone call from a woman named Brini. She'd gotten my name and info through word of mouth and was interested in having me do her hair. She lived sort of far out, in South Russell actually. S.R. is about thirty minutes east of me but a pretty drive and I was taking new clients at that time so I went out and met her. By the time someone greeted me in person for the first time, they already knew the story: I came to them and did their hair in the kitchen, or wherever. Considering the service, I was dirt cheap but I didn't care 'cause I was in college and was just trying to make some money 'till graduation.
Brini's husband worked with some of my other clients so that was the connection. He was Vice President in charge of public relations and advertising of a large national company. Their home illustrated his worldly success, it was sheer glamor, as was she. She had to have been in her sixties and quite beautiful. In fact, I once told her that she looked a lot like Myna Loy. She took that as a compliment, as it was intended. We took to each other instantly and I would go out and cut her hair every third Friday afternoon for six or seven years.
My long-lasting memories of her are absolutely dominated by the tea that we would sit and drink prior to cutting. Most visits would see the two of us simply sit together, drink hot tea and chat for up to an hour, before any scissors were picked up. We would talk about anything: my classes, her daughter, her mother, the Shapiro boys, etc. I now know that we talked about what people talk about when they sit and have tea together.
She was of the generation and station that invited visitors to sit and enjoy a refreshment prior to any business being taken care of. I was on the receiving end of that twentieth century, upper class hospitality for those years. Brini would have had great similarities to Brooke Astor or Jackie Kennedy in that regard.
It was quite entertaining for me and I think for her too. She got a kick out of me and told me so. During the eighties and nineties I was sort of punky/grungy/tacky/trashy looking; very different than my personality; which was then inconsistent with my living position (male live-in nanny). This disconnect really mystified people and kept many mouths babbling endlessly like beautiful Vermont brooks. Brini told me that she liked talking with me 'cause I wasn't boring, like so many people in her circle.
So tea with Brini was just one more of those pleasant memories that I look back on and think, "how did I get here? Just luck I guess".
Eventually Brini got a new colorist who insisted on cutting and styling as a condition to coloring. So we had to part. That was okay. I understood. Some years ago I heard that she had pretty bad dementia. Then a few months ago I saw where her husband died. I wanted to go to the funeral but couldn't make it.
We meet so many people in our lives. We know some for only five minutes, others we know for decades. We're blessed when people who aren't with us for a very long time have a long-lasting and positive effect.
Around '90, I received a phone call from a woman named Brini. She'd gotten my name and info through word of mouth and was interested in having me do her hair. She lived sort of far out, in South Russell actually. S.R. is about thirty minutes east of me but a pretty drive and I was taking new clients at that time so I went out and met her. By the time someone greeted me in person for the first time, they already knew the story: I came to them and did their hair in the kitchen, or wherever. Considering the service, I was dirt cheap but I didn't care 'cause I was in college and was just trying to make some money 'till graduation.
Brini's husband worked with some of my other clients so that was the connection. He was Vice President in charge of public relations and advertising of a large national company. Their home illustrated his worldly success, it was sheer glamor, as was she. She had to have been in her sixties and quite beautiful. In fact, I once told her that she looked a lot like Myna Loy. She took that as a compliment, as it was intended. We took to each other instantly and I would go out and cut her hair every third Friday afternoon for six or seven years.
My long-lasting memories of her are absolutely dominated by the tea that we would sit and drink prior to cutting. Most visits would see the two of us simply sit together, drink hot tea and chat for up to an hour, before any scissors were picked up. We would talk about anything: my classes, her daughter, her mother, the Shapiro boys, etc. I now know that we talked about what people talk about when they sit and have tea together.
She was of the generation and station that invited visitors to sit and enjoy a refreshment prior to any business being taken care of. I was on the receiving end of that twentieth century, upper class hospitality for those years. Brini would have had great similarities to Brooke Astor or Jackie Kennedy in that regard.
It was quite entertaining for me and I think for her too. She got a kick out of me and told me so. During the eighties and nineties I was sort of punky/grungy/tacky/trashy looking; very different than my personality; which was then inconsistent with my living position (male live-in nanny). This disconnect really mystified people and kept many mouths babbling endlessly like beautiful Vermont brooks. Brini told me that she liked talking with me 'cause I wasn't boring, like so many people in her circle.
So tea with Brini was just one more of those pleasant memories that I look back on and think, "how did I get here? Just luck I guess".
Eventually Brini got a new colorist who insisted on cutting and styling as a condition to coloring. So we had to part. That was okay. I understood. Some years ago I heard that she had pretty bad dementia. Then a few months ago I saw where her husband died. I wanted to go to the funeral but couldn't make it.
We meet so many people in our lives. We know some for only five minutes, others we know for decades. We're blessed when people who aren't with us for a very long time have a long-lasting and positive effect.
Friday, February 1, 2013
My Valentine's Day Cards
Page Thirty-One.
I'm technically not an artist. When all is said and done, concerning my secondary education, I ended up taking so much studio art that I was only two classes shy of a B.F.A. in 3-D art, (think: arts & crafts); this, on top of my first two majors: Interpersonal Communications and Art History. But I eventually got tired of going to school so I stopped. Guess that makes me an art-school drop out. So, I'm not a real artist, 'cause I don't have a degree in it. What am I then? Good question. I'll let you know when I find out.
In about '89, I received a cute little envelope in the mail from my friend, Filomena, on Valentine's Day. It was a charming construction paper valentine reminiscent of the the third grade. I called her and inquired and she explained that she simply felt like sending out cards that year. She made these retro cards and sent them to her close friends. I was thrilled and stunned. It was just too cool and I loved it. So the next year I did the same thing. My closer friends, clients, nieces, nephews, Shapiro kids and various stragglers all got home-made construction paper cards. They loved it and so did I. That had to have been about '90.
The next year I got a little more elaborate with my materials: lace, felt, silk flowers, etc. and I started including chocolate. Within a couple of years the things took on a life of their own. Every year since, it's a completely different design, using a totally new medium. There's always a heart shape involved somewhere. And there's always chocolate. A few years ago, I painted all the canvases in one of four colors. Then I glued on plastic jewels in a variety of shapes and colors, outlining the heart. Each canvas was completely different.
Some years ago, I went to a metal shop and commissioned then to cut small, rectangular shiny metal plates. I then made a heart-shaped template and placed the template over each metal plate. I proceeded to spray on glue and pour over shiny, tiny, red and silver glass beads. So the whole things had the feel of a child's typical glitter card, but on steroids, what with no glitter, instead glass on metal. Every year it's something completely over the top.
At some point in the '90's I also began including a child's store bought card in the package. Scooby-Doo, Superman, Barbie, Sponge Bob, Mickey Mouse etc. have all been included in the bag of chocolate at different times and they've contained the personal greeting as there's no place on the card itself.
Ever year, I insist that "this year's is the most frustrating". But I keep on doing 'em. I send out an average of four to five dozen per year, with the list always changing to reflect who's in my life presently. These are really my yearly greeting card, but in February, not December. (This year's edition involves hand-painted, hand-cut rigid plastic hearts which are then given a Christo treatment.) Every January and early February I insist that I won't survive 'till the fourteenth, but I always do. I don't know how.
The adults let me know how much they appreciate them, in no uncertain terms. But, my nieces and nephews and any children probably enjoy them the most. I'm perfectly okay with that.
I'm technically not an artist. When all is said and done, concerning my secondary education, I ended up taking so much studio art that I was only two classes shy of a B.F.A. in 3-D art, (think: arts & crafts); this, on top of my first two majors: Interpersonal Communications and Art History. But I eventually got tired of going to school so I stopped. Guess that makes me an art-school drop out. So, I'm not a real artist, 'cause I don't have a degree in it. What am I then? Good question. I'll let you know when I find out.
In about '89, I received a cute little envelope in the mail from my friend, Filomena, on Valentine's Day. It was a charming construction paper valentine reminiscent of the the third grade. I called her and inquired and she explained that she simply felt like sending out cards that year. She made these retro cards and sent them to her close friends. I was thrilled and stunned. It was just too cool and I loved it. So the next year I did the same thing. My closer friends, clients, nieces, nephews, Shapiro kids and various stragglers all got home-made construction paper cards. They loved it and so did I. That had to have been about '90.
The next year I got a little more elaborate with my materials: lace, felt, silk flowers, etc. and I started including chocolate. Within a couple of years the things took on a life of their own. Every year since, it's a completely different design, using a totally new medium. There's always a heart shape involved somewhere. And there's always chocolate. A few years ago, I painted all the canvases in one of four colors. Then I glued on plastic jewels in a variety of shapes and colors, outlining the heart. Each canvas was completely different.
Some years ago, I went to a metal shop and commissioned then to cut small, rectangular shiny metal plates. I then made a heart-shaped template and placed the template over each metal plate. I proceeded to spray on glue and pour over shiny, tiny, red and silver glass beads. So the whole things had the feel of a child's typical glitter card, but on steroids, what with no glitter, instead glass on metal. Every year it's something completely over the top.
At some point in the '90's I also began including a child's store bought card in the package. Scooby-Doo, Superman, Barbie, Sponge Bob, Mickey Mouse etc. have all been included in the bag of chocolate at different times and they've contained the personal greeting as there's no place on the card itself.
Ever year, I insist that "this year's is the most frustrating". But I keep on doing 'em. I send out an average of four to five dozen per year, with the list always changing to reflect who's in my life presently. These are really my yearly greeting card, but in February, not December. (This year's edition involves hand-painted, hand-cut rigid plastic hearts which are then given a Christo treatment.) Every January and early February I insist that I won't survive 'till the fourteenth, but I always do. I don't know how.
The adults let me know how much they appreciate them, in no uncertain terms. But, my nieces and nephews and any children probably enjoy them the most. I'm perfectly okay with that.
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