to get one moving on the 'to do' list, including something that's been on my to do list since 2003.
One of Philly's greatest bands has been coming to Germany the past few summers, and the fates were always out of alignment and I could never go to see them.
Tickets now purchased.
Showing posts with label philly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philly. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Monday, December 10, 2007
The spirit of Christmas
H: Look what I found in the recycle bin while throwing out my newspapers. Pretty barely used wrapping paper and ribbon. It was probably for St. Nick's day. Score!
D: Do you really need to be picking out of the trash?
H: It's not the trash, it's the recycle bin. I'm going to wrap my Nana's gift in it. She'll love it.
D: How much do you love your Nana, to give her trash-picked ribbon?
H: Nana grew up during the depression and taught me everything I know about trash-picking. She'll be so proud. Besides, being green is in this year.
D: (Sigh)
D: Do you really need to be picking out of the trash?
H: It's not the trash, it's the recycle bin. I'm going to wrap my Nana's gift in it. She'll love it.
D: How much do you love your Nana, to give her trash-picked ribbon?
H: Nana grew up during the depression and taught me everything I know about trash-picking. She'll be so proud. Besides, being green is in this year.
D: (Sigh)
Friday, September 28, 2007
make your own timeline
Inspired by http://mightygirl.com/2007/09/05/42-make-your-timeline/
Maybe because of the fall weather, I am feeling school-centric...
My first decade:
Age 1: My great-grandmother from Poland passed away. She was the only US relative from the old country who was alive in my lifetime.
Age 2: My mother's father passed away two months after I turned two. I was the only grandchild at the time and predictably doted upon. My mother was always very sad that I could not remember him, and looking at all of the photos of me with him, nothing triggers any memories.
Age 3: I was enrolled in dance lessons, something that continued for 10 years.
Age 4: I had long blond hair and blue/green eyes.
Age 5: I was in pre-school with two good friends, another girl named Heather and a boy named Sean. At Sean's summer birthday party I was the only girl invited. I found out years later that both my mother and Sean's mother were worried that as the only girl it would be awkward for me as the expected activities were things like playing superheroes outside. All went just fine. If anything it should have been a dark cloud of forshadowing of my comfort in a male-centric environment, like IT.
Age 6: I graduated from kindergarten. In my Catholic school there was an award for the boy and girl with the highest grades. Joey Dickmann and I took it that year, and every year after that through 8th grade. He was wicked smart and my academic arch nemesis. We competed on every test, always. We lost touch when we went to different high schools.
Age 7: First grade was the year of Sister Roberta Ann who ordered and ruled our simple world with benevolence.
Age 8: The Eagles had one of their crappiest seasons ever, in my lifetime. We had 'Eagles Day' at school and instead of school uniforms we could wear Eagles sweatshirts and Eagles colors to school. Our school uniforms were Eagles green so this really wasn't such a special thing. As most of us were resigned to our fate of wearing that kelly green color five days a week, 9 months a year for 8 years, while we owned Eagles gear, we sure as hell did not own anything in that color green otherwise. It took me 10 years after that to own anything in that color by choice and even now I buy my Eagles gear in one of the other team colors besides that green.
Age 9: Third grade was the year of 'Pennsylvania focused history' on the curriculum. Pennsylvania history for those of you not in the know consists of highlights such as the 13 colonies, William Penn, the Indians, the Quakers, the Amish, and PA's favorite product: coal. History, with the exception of a few topics/eras, remains a weak area and low interest point for me in general, and it all started here.
Age 10: My friend Heather from pre-school, her mom died of cancer. I had the day off from school to go the funeral and it rained all day. At the end of the year I was questioned by the teacher, as to why I had missed only that one day. I was never a perfect attendance kid; I missed a small handful of days each year. At the awards ceremony at the end of the school year I got perfect attendance for the only time in my academic career. It still feels like I cheated, because I know that I was not there.
Maybe because of the fall weather, I am feeling school-centric...
My first decade:
Age 1: My great-grandmother from Poland passed away. She was the only US relative from the old country who was alive in my lifetime.
Age 2: My mother's father passed away two months after I turned two. I was the only grandchild at the time and predictably doted upon. My mother was always very sad that I could not remember him, and looking at all of the photos of me with him, nothing triggers any memories.
Age 3: I was enrolled in dance lessons, something that continued for 10 years.
Age 4: I had long blond hair and blue/green eyes.
Age 5: I was in pre-school with two good friends, another girl named Heather and a boy named Sean. At Sean's summer birthday party I was the only girl invited. I found out years later that both my mother and Sean's mother were worried that as the only girl it would be awkward for me as the expected activities were things like playing superheroes outside. All went just fine. If anything it should have been a dark cloud of forshadowing of my comfort in a male-centric environment, like IT.
Age 6: I graduated from kindergarten. In my Catholic school there was an award for the boy and girl with the highest grades. Joey Dickmann and I took it that year, and every year after that through 8th grade. He was wicked smart and my academic arch nemesis. We competed on every test, always. We lost touch when we went to different high schools.
Age 7: First grade was the year of Sister Roberta Ann who ordered and ruled our simple world with benevolence.
Age 8: The Eagles had one of their crappiest seasons ever, in my lifetime. We had 'Eagles Day' at school and instead of school uniforms we could wear Eagles sweatshirts and Eagles colors to school. Our school uniforms were Eagles green so this really wasn't such a special thing. As most of us were resigned to our fate of wearing that kelly green color five days a week, 9 months a year for 8 years, while we owned Eagles gear, we sure as hell did not own anything in that color green otherwise. It took me 10 years after that to own anything in that color by choice and even now I buy my Eagles gear in one of the other team colors besides that green.
Age 9: Third grade was the year of 'Pennsylvania focused history' on the curriculum. Pennsylvania history for those of you not in the know consists of highlights such as the 13 colonies, William Penn, the Indians, the Quakers, the Amish, and PA's favorite product: coal. History, with the exception of a few topics/eras, remains a weak area and low interest point for me in general, and it all started here.
Age 10: My friend Heather from pre-school, her mom died of cancer. I had the day off from school to go the funeral and it rained all day. At the end of the year I was questioned by the teacher, as to why I had missed only that one day. I was never a perfect attendance kid; I missed a small handful of days each year. At the awards ceremony at the end of the school year I got perfect attendance for the only time in my academic career. It still feels like I cheated, because I know that I was not there.
Friday, July 27, 2007
the evil eye
Growing up as a product of the Philadelphia Catholic school system from ages 5 to 22, I learned early about the power of the evil eye. It started with Sister Roberta Ann in the first grade. She was 4'11" perhaps which meant she still towered among us first graders, although she was of a hearty rather than petite nature, a true Philadelphia Italian. She could have backhanded unruly children to the moon if desired and she would occasionally whack the wooden pointer on the wooden desk when excitement overtook the room, such as during a sudden snowfall or during the handing out of Halloween candy.
However, that was rarely needed as she had the evil eye. Nuns who were teachers had this perfected. In those days, classrooms had 40-50 children, so it was a necessary skill. (My how things have changed as I have been reading about requirements for small classes of no more than 20 in public school teacher contracts.) However, at that time, Sr Roberta would have the roaming or roving eyes, all day long in the classroom, out at recess, and everywhere in between.
The roving eye was like a gentle ocean wave. If all was going well and you were behaving, the eye roamed over you and on to the next child. God help the one who was not honoring the holy family with his behavior, however. Sister's eyes would alight on him, and it was almost like she could read his naughty thoughts in a bubble over his head. The evil eye was strong enough to melt glass or even steel.
If Johnnie had his hand poised to pull Susie's braid, he would suddenly feel the evil eye from across the room resting upon him. If he was smart he would re-direct immediately his efforts and the raised hand would instead tap Susie on the should to ask if he could borrow her eraser. The evil eye, pleased that a sin was averted, would return to its watch.
The evil eye was always watchful and ever vigilant. That is the only way that a nun could keep control of so many energetic children. I never recall hearing a nun yell. Why should they, no reason to if the evil eye was functioning properly.
Why am I telling you all this? Fast forward 20 some years from first grade in Phillyland and I am now in Germany. Yesterday was 'put out big items or whatever you want and we'll take them away for free' day on my street. Since getting rid of anything bigger than a used tea bag requires so much effort here, you can imagine how much stuff is stacked immediately in front of the house for the garbagemen.
In Germany, many people live for such days, as this culture has no problem with trashpicking and it's almost like Christmas, free gifts on every street! In the US trashpicking tends to be done quickly and under the cover of darkness, whereas here there is no stigma attached. Take your time and dig through the pile of items. They very carefully and neatly stack things up again when finished, at least as nice if not nicer than before. They may even put something in front of the pile that is nice, but not needed by them. I personally have no problems with what they do, recycling something is better than having it end up in the landfill.
Yesterday two children, perhaps 5 and 8 were picking through the pile in front of my apartment. Standing on my balconey, I could see them, but they didn't notice me. Everything is fine and good, until they started to pick things out of the pile, breaking the things, and then throwing them onto the street. I live on a tiny street that ends in the apartment driveway, so it's little used, but still people must drive on it. Nor is there reason to break something that someone could perhaps find in the pile and use.
I watched two or three throws each, and I must have out of reflex turned on the evil eye, in particular on the 8 year old who is certainly old enough to know better. He feels it and turns to see me watching him. He immediately drops his hands to his sides and drops what he was about to throw onto the trash pile. The little girl, however, chose to throw something a split second later. He starts to shout at her in that typical German way, loud shouting. She looks at him surprised at the sudden change. He then must have said more quietly that I was up there, as she turns and looks, like a deer in the headlights.
I now had the evil eye trained on both of them. He shouts at her, quick, we need to clean up the mess and the two of them scurry around the road picking up what they had thrown and putting it into a nearby trash can. They then hightailed it to their bicycles to hurry away.
The evil eye, I haven't forgotten it, and apparently I have the international version of it.
Final note: while I was writing this, I wondered what Sister Roberta was up to and if she was still teaching, as I do have nothing but fond memories of the first grade with her. A few years after I completed first grade, the sisters were called to a different school that needed them more, and we instead had non-religious vocation (Lay) teachers and lost track of 'our' nuns. However, through the power of google, I see Sister is still alive and well and serving religion. Click here and scroll down to see her.
However, that was rarely needed as she had the evil eye. Nuns who were teachers had this perfected. In those days, classrooms had 40-50 children, so it was a necessary skill. (My how things have changed as I have been reading about requirements for small classes of no more than 20 in public school teacher contracts.) However, at that time, Sr Roberta would have the roaming or roving eyes, all day long in the classroom, out at recess, and everywhere in between.
The roving eye was like a gentle ocean wave. If all was going well and you were behaving, the eye roamed over you and on to the next child. God help the one who was not honoring the holy family with his behavior, however. Sister's eyes would alight on him, and it was almost like she could read his naughty thoughts in a bubble over his head. The evil eye was strong enough to melt glass or even steel.
If Johnnie had his hand poised to pull Susie's braid, he would suddenly feel the evil eye from across the room resting upon him. If he was smart he would re-direct immediately his efforts and the raised hand would instead tap Susie on the should to ask if he could borrow her eraser. The evil eye, pleased that a sin was averted, would return to its watch.
The evil eye was always watchful and ever vigilant. That is the only way that a nun could keep control of so many energetic children. I never recall hearing a nun yell. Why should they, no reason to if the evil eye was functioning properly.
Why am I telling you all this? Fast forward 20 some years from first grade in Phillyland and I am now in Germany. Yesterday was 'put out big items or whatever you want and we'll take them away for free' day on my street. Since getting rid of anything bigger than a used tea bag requires so much effort here, you can imagine how much stuff is stacked immediately in front of the house for the garbagemen.
In Germany, many people live for such days, as this culture has no problem with trashpicking and it's almost like Christmas, free gifts on every street! In the US trashpicking tends to be done quickly and under the cover of darkness, whereas here there is no stigma attached. Take your time and dig through the pile of items. They very carefully and neatly stack things up again when finished, at least as nice if not nicer than before. They may even put something in front of the pile that is nice, but not needed by them. I personally have no problems with what they do, recycling something is better than having it end up in the landfill.
Yesterday two children, perhaps 5 and 8 were picking through the pile in front of my apartment. Standing on my balconey, I could see them, but they didn't notice me. Everything is fine and good, until they started to pick things out of the pile, breaking the things, and then throwing them onto the street. I live on a tiny street that ends in the apartment driveway, so it's little used, but still people must drive on it. Nor is there reason to break something that someone could perhaps find in the pile and use.
I watched two or three throws each, and I must have out of reflex turned on the evil eye, in particular on the 8 year old who is certainly old enough to know better. He feels it and turns to see me watching him. He immediately drops his hands to his sides and drops what he was about to throw onto the trash pile. The little girl, however, chose to throw something a split second later. He starts to shout at her in that typical German way, loud shouting. She looks at him surprised at the sudden change. He then must have said more quietly that I was up there, as she turns and looks, like a deer in the headlights.
I now had the evil eye trained on both of them. He shouts at her, quick, we need to clean up the mess and the two of them scurry around the road picking up what they had thrown and putting it into a nearby trash can. They then hightailed it to their bicycles to hurry away.
The evil eye, I haven't forgotten it, and apparently I have the international version of it.
Final note: while I was writing this, I wondered what Sister Roberta was up to and if she was still teaching, as I do have nothing but fond memories of the first grade with her. A few years after I completed first grade, the sisters were called to a different school that needed them more, and we instead had non-religious vocation (Lay) teachers and lost track of 'our' nuns. However, through the power of google, I see Sister is still alive and well and serving religion. Click here and scroll down to see her.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Dreidel, spin, spin, spin
Here is a photo from the Philadelphia International Airport and my trip home:
Only in Philly would we have giant dreidels adorning the baggage claim areas. It was equal holiday opportunity; the general stack of presents that you also see here in the photo represented the non-religious sect, and there were plenty of Xmas trees all around so all items balanced each other out, rather than the foolishness that occurred at Sea-Tac.
Did you know that the Yiddish word "dreidel" comes from the German word "drehen" (to turn)? Children play a game whereby they put something such as candy or tokens into a pot and then they take turns spinning the dreidel and depending on what side the dreidel lands facing upward then they win or lose the round until ultimately one child wins the entire pot.
In case you're curious, the side facing us is the 'Gimel', meaning all. If you get that side facing up then you win the entire pot. However, here then the side facing up for this round is the 'Nun' which means nothing, and if you get this one you neither gain nor lose, and the turn moves on to the next player.
Is it only me who sees the irony that the non-spinning dreidel here is surrounded by a spinning baggage belt?
Only in Philly would we have giant dreidels adorning the baggage claim areas. It was equal holiday opportunity; the general stack of presents that you also see here in the photo represented the non-religious sect, and there were plenty of Xmas trees all around so all items balanced each other out, rather than the foolishness that occurred at Sea-Tac.Did you know that the Yiddish word "dreidel" comes from the German word "drehen" (to turn)? Children play a game whereby they put something such as candy or tokens into a pot and then they take turns spinning the dreidel and depending on what side the dreidel lands facing upward then they win or lose the round until ultimately one child wins the entire pot.
In case you're curious, the side facing us is the 'Gimel', meaning all. If you get that side facing up then you win the entire pot. However, here then the side facing up for this round is the 'Nun' which means nothing, and if you get this one you neither gain nor lose, and the turn moves on to the next player.
Is it only me who sees the irony that the non-spinning dreidel here is surrounded by a spinning baggage belt?
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