The Caller

“I like you in the white T-shirt, the low cut back shows off your tan.” Changing her number had not helped. “Are you going out with Robby again tonight?” Changing her routine did not helped. “You seem nervous. “ Having Detective Harris sitting in her living room is not helping.

The caller is watching her now. The detective is signaling her to keep him on the line.

“Yes, I’m getting ready. No, I’m not nervous at all. What makes you think so?” Crystal’s voice cracks. She looks over to the detective. He mouths, “You’re doing fine.”

“You’re not alone. Is he the new man in your life?” She nervously answers his questions, “I’m alone. There is no new man.” She is positive that he’s going to catch on to what they are doing. She never “talks” to this man.

Detective Harris asks her to find out what he wants. She shoots him a look. They both know he wants her.

“What do you want?”

“I want you. All to myself. I want you to love me like you have your lover. I’ve watched you, I‘ve seen you fake orgasm after orgasm. He’ll never make you happy; I’m so much better for you.”

Crystal lets out a small cry. Her eyes search the detective’s eyes, hoping to find an answer. She sees none.

Harris tells her to end the call. Trembling, she hangs up the phone.

“Got the fucker.” He leads her to the bedroom window. With her camera, he focuses the lens on the apartment building behind her. She sees a man in the window, using a telephoto lens like hers, looking back at her. The blinds are never closed in the summer. The crab apple tree covers the entire window, but she sees him clearly.

Harris sees himself out.

Crystal hears the sirens and sees the lights from her bedroom window. It is over.

She heads to the bathroom. There is a knock and thinking its Robby, she opens the door. Slammed against the wall, a hand covers her mouth, the other on her breast. Dragged to the floor, she feels his weight on her. Crystal struggles as he pulls at her clothes but his weight holds her down. She feels something sharp against her neck. Tears stream down her face as he spreads her legs and enters her.

She feels something warm and wet running down her neck. He caresses her breasts. “I told you I can love you better than he did, I told you.“ He says each word with a thrust. “It should not have come to this Crystal; I told you how much better I can love you.”

Crystal’s last conscious thought, “Why isn’t Robby here yet?”

He is standing at the kitchen sink cleaning the knife as Harris trips over Robby’s body and storms through the door. Lying in a pool of blood, Crystal’s glassy stare no longer sees either of them.

Anna's Story

Chapter 4

When Stephen kissed her, she felt week in the knees and felt her heart race. None of her beaus had ever made her feel this way. Stephen pulled back after the second kiss and Anna wanted more. She reached her hands around behind his neck and brought him back down to her. He kissed her again. There was more passion in this kiss than the last and she found herself kissing him back. As he pulled away from her this time, she looking deep in his eyes and decided that this was her Gypsy after all. One day, he would be hers and hers alone.

Stephen asked to see her again the next day, but she had obligations. She quickly asked that he come for dinner. He agreed. She smiled, turned and went through the door, leaving him on the walk and her father scrambling to get to his chair.

"I've invited Stephen to dinner', she said walking over to her father, who sat in his favorite chair. She came up from behind him and hugged him around the neck. "Please behave!", giving him a kiss on the top of his bald head. With the arm he had left from the railroad accident a few years before, he hugged her back. Winking at his wife, he told Anna, "It will be painful mein Tochter, very painful." With that, she swats the top of his head and waltzes up the stairs to bed, prepared to dream of her future.

Spring cleaning completed and the afternoon meal started, Anna, along with her parents walk to mass. Her head fixed forward, her eyes search for Stephen. Then she spots him, with a group of young men from the neighborhood. He looks her way and she quickly moves her gaze to the doorway of the church. she feels herself turning red, the blush seems to grow from her toes. Thinking to herself, "What could he possibly see in a girl like me, blushing at the sight of him."

Stephen glances in Anna's direction and sees her flush. He pretends that he is talking to his friends but is watching Anna's every move. He finds her every move inviting.

"Talk to you later, I have someone I have to talk to", said Stephen and he was walking toward Anna. But he doesn't talk to Anna, he begins speaking to her father, Andrew. He asks permission to court his daughter and Andrew, reluctantly gives it.

Anna and Stephen began their courtship. They spent most of their time together sitting on the porch or in the parlor with Anna's father keeping a watchful eye on the two of them. Mary knew that her daughter wanted to be alone with Stephen and did her best to distract her husband so the two could be alone.

Stephen saw Anna everyday after work. He would stop and she would have a plate ready for him. It became customary that he read the paper to Mary in her native German. He managed to capture the hearts of both of Andrew's women.

Anna's graduation and eighteenth birthday came and went. Now that Anna was eighteen, there was no need for a chaperone. She and Stephen stopped sitting on the porch and began taking long rides in the country with a blanket and a picnic basket. By summer's end, Anna and Stephen were seeing each other everyday of the week. She looked forward to his sweet kisses and was left wanting more.

Anna looked around the room at her family. She thought that maybe Steve would be proud of them, no, she knew he would be. They were all strong and happy. As she was reaching for her tea, Heidi touched her hand and smiled, "You look so happy Oma."

"And who wouldn't be with such a loving family around her."

As she watched the youngest showoff with somersaults, her mind drifted to the day Steve proposed.

Once Upon a Summer Day...

It was 1967, her cousins Jim and Bobby were in Vietnam in what was called a "police action" that looked very much like a war when she'd watch the evening news with her family. Her mom spent a lot of time crying that year, many of her friends killed or missing in action. The young girl would be protesting war in her own way in a few short years. She was in the fifth grade, the oldest of four children (that would change), and she was in love with the boy next door.

It was summer and it was a hot one. Each day hazier, hotter and more humid than the last. Each night brought heat lightening, distant thunder and the promise of rain. She now had the attic bedroom for her own. Her parents thought she wa too old to be sharing a room with her baby sister. This too would change with the arrival of her baby brother.

She woke to the smell of wet blacktop and chlorine. It rained as promised overnight and her neighbor was getting the pool ready for another day of swimming. The metal box window fan rattled and shook from the wear of summers past. It brought in cooler air that held the promise of another hot day. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling thinking of what the day may bring. Even with the heat, she was covered completely with the sheet. At the age of ten, she knew that monsters were not real; except the one waiting to grab her foot that lived under her bed. Still in her baby doll pajamas and light summer robe, she found her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. She stares at her family, counting heads and realizes the bathroom was free. Making a 180 degree turn, she marched down the hall to the bath. As she brushes her teeth and runs a comb through her long chestnut brown hair, she looked at herself in the mirror wondering for the umpteenth time if she would ever grow up. It was taking too long.

Not a morning person, she managed to sneak past her siblings in the kitchen and headed to the parlor to sit with her mom. Asked if her room was clean, she lied, telling mom that it was. The little girl ran to her room, pulled on short and a camisole and began the chores given her. Done with the chore of cleaning her room, she made a beeline for the back door and her escape. Her mom's call to stay close almost reached her as the screen door slammed shut. Cutting across the open field and the neighbors yards, she found the end of the fence and swings herself around to the other side. Nina was standing at the door of the summer kitchen of her house. Nina's family never used the kitchen, it was just an attachment to the back of the house they rented. The two girls loved to play back there. They played in that kitchen for hours, making discoveries as their baby dolls slept or they had their tea parties. This morning, Mrs. Callatty came back and joined the tea party. Nina and the girl were startled by her, she would never some back here. The girls stared at her as she began to tell them that there will be changes made in Nina's home. Mrs. Callatty is having a baby and they will be moving to a bigger house. With tears stinging her eyes, the girl ran from the summer kitchen back toward the cliff and the end of the fence.

Swinging around the fence post, she landed between two lilac bushes. Just as the girl was ready to bolt across the lawn, she saw him. The new boy next door. He had to be the cutest boy she had ever seen. And he was between her and her house. So she waited. And there he stayed. Just as she was about to turn around and walk down the stone steps to the gully, he walked toward his house. She took the cue and bolted toward her house, BAM!

Dazed, she looked around to find Rusty, the boy who lived on the other side of her, on the ground in front of her. Fishing pole and worms everywhere. Rusty asked her daily to go fishing with him. She rolled her eyes at him as she had done every summer morning for the past two years. After this morning's news of Nina leaving, she knew she could talk to Rusty about it. He never would have bothered with her but he hated baiting the hook and she was willing to do it if he pretended to listen to her prattle on, it was a relationship of convenience. As he picked up the pole and worms, he watched her run to her house. Girls, he thought.

After running in and announcing she was going fishing, she grabbed the book she was reading and a handful of cookies for her and Rusty; slamming the screen door as her mom was yelling not to slam it. The second reason Rusty would ask her fishing was her mom's cookies. She grabbed the bait and handed him the cookies. As they walked behind his garage to the top of the drive that lead to the bottom of the gully, she talked about her morning. Rusty, thinking of the ball game on Saturday nodded at the right times of the conversation. It was a lesson he learned watching his dad when he talked to his mom. He was using it on his mom now too. She nagged too much. The girl was still talking about whatever it was that bugging her by the time they reached the creek.

They sat on the edge of the creek. The girl grabbed the hook from her friend's pole and dug into the coffee can for a nice fat worm. She held the worm to his face and he squirms. Laughing and chewing on her tongue, she concentrates on the job at hand. She folded the worm in half and stuck the worm through. She gave a sideway glance to Rusty, he looked gray. As she began to weave one half of the worm with the hook, she asked him why he's so afraid of creepy crawlies. Looking at the water and not the hook, he told her about the time his brother filled his bed with spiders. Thinking it was a good enough reason, she wrapped the other end of the worm around the hook. The girl knew he would never cast the line, his fear of the worm touching him if the line came back on him. She did it for him.

The girl got up and wandered around exploring. She found a trail she had never seen before. She called out to her companion and asked how far from the race track they were. Maybe a half mile was his best guess. The sun and the cicada's song told her it was time to go home for lunch. She grabbed her book, yelled after her friend that she was leaving and he waved her off without turning.

Her mom had everyone at the table and was making sandwiches. She asked the girl what she had been up to. She told her mom about Nina's mom having a baby and that they were moving. Mom made a noise that sounded like a humft. She went on to tell her about Rusty and fishing; mom smiled as she went on feeding and talking to her baby sister. It had occurred to her more than once that her mom really didn't pay much attention to her. There were too many distractions. The sandwich finished and the dish in the sink, she hangs around the house looking for something to do. Finally, she heard the words she had been waiting to hear..."go outside and play". As the screen door slammed shut, she almost heard her mom cry out not to slam it.

The girl climbed down the hill on makeshift dirt stairs until she reached the old smoke house. It was always a few degrees cooler in there and she discovered that it made a perfect place to read. Slipping in through the crack in the door, she made her way to the corner and began to read the latest book she took from the library, The Diary of Anne Frank. She stared at the page but her mind kept going back to the trail she found. The book in a hiding place, she made her way down the hill and to the trail.

Rusty was gone, either bored or he actually caught something. Most likely bored. Rusty had never caught a fish for as long as she knew him. She laughed to herself at the thought of him carrying his pole home with the fish still attached, coming to her back door asking for help. She shook her head as she smiled thinking of what a wimp he was. She found the trail and followed it until she found a pheasant nest in the field. It was huge and still had eggs in it. She looked up to find herself in front of large tree which wasn't odd but she'd never seen it before and it had a ladder leaning against it. Walking over there, she stood there looking up. A tree house!

As she climbed the ladder, she wondered how it was possible not to have seen it before. She could see the creek from up here. And the swimming hole by the bridge. It was perfect. The girl knew that it belonged to someone but there were no homes in the gully and it was overgrown with grass all around the tree. Until she was told she couldn't be there or saw a sign posted, she declared it her's. She sat there for awhile, thinking of things to bring down there that wouldn't be missed at home. At one point she thought her baby brother would make a perfect watchdog, but decided her mom would notice him missing.

Bored watching the swimmers, the little girl headed home. She stopped to pick up the pheasant's nest. When she reached the track, Rusty and his brothers were racing the go-carts and his sisters where pulling weeds from the garden. She walked passed and yelled over the sound of the go-carts to come get her when the potatoes were ripe. She loved to help harvest the potatoes; she loved to play in the dirt even at the advanced age of ten. As she climbed the side of the hill to the smoke house, she spotted the new boy on the roof of his garage. And then the splash. She sighed and went into the smokehouse to read before the light would be gone.

She heard her mom call for supper about the time Anne Frank and her family heard the soldiers below them. She headed for home and heard her name called. The girl looked over to the neighbor's home, the boy asked her to come swimming after supper. She yelled back and told him she would have to ask. The little girl walked on air the rest of the night, he knew her name.

The girl set the table and asked if she could swim after supper. Her mom thought about it for awhile and told the girl not tonight; she needed her help but next time she was invited she could go. She smiled to herself, the girl took each baby by the hand and went down the hall with them to get them washed up for supper, just as she did every night. She placed her baby brother in the booster seat and her sister in the highchair. It is her job to help feed her siblings at supper time so she sat between them. They all would say grace and began to tell each other about their day. She doesn't tell them about the tree house, or the trek to the swimming hole, or even the hours spent reading. She listened to her daddy talk of his day and her mom say that the old man across the street played his violin again most the afternoon. The girl began to drown them out with her own thoughts. She drifted back to reality by her daddy's voice as he asked if she would like to take a walk with him. The little girl looked at her mom. Mom nodded that she could go.

The little girl and her daddy walked on the shoulder of the road, there were no sidewalks. Both heads down, each stopping and stooping down to pick something up every few yards. They walked a couple miles and sat on the steps of the porch to examine their treasures. Daddy adds it all and they collected three dollars in change this time. He split the change with her and she hugged him around the neck.

The girl ran into the house and saw not only the back of the ever present Rusty, but also that of the boy next door. Both boys had their eyes locked to the television. The robot was telling Will Robinson there was danger ahead. She slowed her walk to a stop, looked at Rusty for an explanation then glanced at the other boy. He shrugged, grinned and whispered "you owe me one" and grabbed her hand as he pulled her down on the floor between them. Mom made popcorn and placed it on the floor in front of them. She gave the girl a wink.

The little girl, dressed in her baby doll pajamas crawled into her bed and covered herself with the sheet completely. Her arms folded behind her head, she stared at the ceiling. She drifted off to sleep as she thought of the boy next door. Rusty was truly her best friend.

Television and I

You might say that television and I grew up together in the 60s. Unlike today, with the hundreds of channels of nothing on, we had three. No cable. We didn't even have an antennae! Rabbit ears and tin foil wrapped at the ends. And did I mention the world then was black and white? From Ding Dong School to Walter Cronkite to Danny Thomas. My world of fantasy was in black and white. In fact, my world was projected from a 12 inch red cased Zenith television.

I remember mornings with Ding Dong School (Big Bird wasn't even close to hatching yet) and Captain Kangaroo with the Dutch boy haircut and red coat with big pockets along with Mr. Moose and Mr. Greenjeans. We had Beat the Clock, Dialing for Dollars, Meet the Millers and Strikes, Spares and Misses with Chuck Healy. Afternoons we were taken to Woodbridge to be sucked into the lives of the Ames family on Secret Storm or watched as the Bauer family was dealt with daily problems on the Guilding Light. Merv Griffin was on while mom would be making supper.

We had our favorites during the week, Gunsmoke and Bonanza, Ben Casey and Dr. Kildare. The Andy Griffith Show that was a spin off of Danny Thomas which was a spin off of I Love Lucy. I'd hear Ralph Kramden say "To the moon Alice!" more than once. I was transported to the past watching Clint Eastwood in Rawride and further back with Fred and Barney at 7:30 on Friday nights.

And I watched in horror as did millions the assassination of John F. Kennedy by Lee Harvey Oswald followed by a week of a grief stricken nation mourn the loss of their beloved President. In April of 1968, James Earl Ray, in Memphis, Tennessee, shoots and kills civil rights leader, Martin Luther King. Two months later in June, Sirhan Sirhan put three bullets into Bobby Kennedy and again a nation mourns. Then on July 20, 1969, along with the same millions that mourned together the previous year, I rejoiced along with them as the Eagle, carrying Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, landed in the Sea of Tranquility. Armstrong's words ringing in my ears still "One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind." The words of my grandfather are also ringing in my ears, "What! They aren't supposed to be on the moon today! Tomorrow!" Guess who's birthday was the 21st of July.

World news was brought into our home by Walter Cronkite. In 1964, he told us that Nelson Mandela was give life in prison and South Africa was banned from the Olympics. The President's Commission on the Assassination of John F. Kennedy issued the Warren Report concluding Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. Jack Ruby was convicted of murdering Oswald. The Cardinals won the World Series and Toronto the Stanley Cup. He told us the British were invading again but this time in the form of the Beatles on the stage of Ed Sullivan. I was seven and in love with George. Herbert Hoover, Douglas MacArthur and Harpo Marx died in 1964. The Best Picture Award went to Tom Jones and Ranger VII took pictures of the moon.

And in 1964, the color TV set is introduced and most of the NBC programs were filmed in color. This was an invitation to my grandfather to buy a console 27" color television set. It was also a way for my parents to get Jim and I to mind. Weekends usually meant a trip to my mother's parents in South Dayton. In 1964, South Dayton was a very small village. In 2010, South Dayton is still a very small village. And like any small town or village, everyone knew everyone else's business. Grandpa sold cars and Grandma was a homemaker. And they were one of the firsts to own a color TV.

It was customary for us to leave in the mid afternoon on Sundays. Dad had to work in the morning and I had school. My parents also liked to get us settled for the night and would sit, watching Wagon Train and The Ed Sullivan Show. But on rare occasions, Jim and I were told that if we napped, Dad would agree to staying and watching Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color. Jim and I would not hesitate to climb the stairs to your bedroom.

Holiday specials were always a reason to stay. Disney would always show holiday cartoons. Halloween with Ichabod and Donald Duck with his nephews, Huey, Louey and Duey. Christmas brought Mickey's Christmas Tree with Pluto, Chip and Dale. Professor Ludwig Von Drake helped me with my science and math. There was Daniel Boone and nature stories. We saw everything from bears to beavers were shown in their natural habitats. And the best were movies. Because Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color was only an hour long, if the week we stayed was a movie, I knew we would be coming for a visit the following weekend.

The following year, my parents finally purchased a color television set. We may not have been the first to get a color set but one of our neighbors didn't own a set and their children soon became friends just to watch. Dad was the typical male that knew all there was to know regarding the color set. Rule of thumb, once the reds are correct, the color will be perfect. Mom always adjusted the color during the news using the colors of the newscast. Dad on the other hand...think about it, how much color is there when you are watching golf. "I know what I'm doing, the grass is green!" Too bad the anchorman was purple!

I began watching television in its infancy. To Andy Taylor holding hands with his date as being the raciest screen on television to teen pregnancy on MTV's 16 and Pregnant. Yes, television has changed, commercials and programming are no longer live, censors are have let more and more slide by. Today we are missing some great family entertainment. Carol Burnett and Lucille Ball. The Partridge Family and The Brady Bunch. The only sex on television was implied with Dean Martin and Laugh-in. Marshal Dillon always got his man, Marcus Welby's patient was cured and The Waltons always took too long to say goodnight.

We now have hundreds of channels and sadly not much to watch. Family hour seems to be a thing of the past to be placed next to Archie's chair at the Smithsonian. When I see kids walking the streets, bored, high, pregnant or all of the above, I think maybe The Waltons was a corny program and The Partridge Family lame but we were a family together. I can count the hours that I have watched our 52 inch screen television on one hand...zero. In my youth, I sat watching television for hours, afraid I would miss something. As an aging (and gracefully I might add) woman I find I'm not missing a thing.

Should the likes of Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color return to the small screen, I will surely know I have died and gone to heaven.

The Hood

I live in the city of Buffalo, New York. In South Buffalo to be exact. It's a small, close knit community. Sometimes too close, but that's fine. It reminds me of small towns or villages in movies, in nearby South Dayton where my grandparents lived while I was growing up or East Aurora. A trip to Vidler's five and dime store with lunch at the diner. Oh my, drifting but those are stories for another time.

It's a warm spring day, sitting on my porch, I watch the neighbors going about their business (and mine I'm sure).

Across the street, a couple of doors to my left, the little girl that lives upstairs has just told her father that she is a big sister now and to stop calling her his baby. Now there is a crushed Daddy. Downstairs, I see their landlady laughing at the conversation going on above her.

Next door to those neighbors lives who I call the cat lady. She has only one cat but gives me the impression that she could easily become the owner of 20 more. She is the owner of the house and in the years that I have lived here, she hasn't kept a tenant longer than ten months. She tries to control the tenants lives...strange they don't like that.

Directly across the street there was an elderly woman. No, not what you think. She's still with us but now lives in the middle of the block with that con of a grandson. Poor thing doesn't realize that she's being used. Now her landlady is a wonder. She, her son and two huge dogs (no idea what they are except BIG) live upstairs. She has lived her all of her life and knows everything about every neighbor on this street.

The couple that lives on the left of her are a sad pair in my mind. He's a bully and she puts up with him. In the dead of winter I can hear him yelling at her. In contrast, downstairs is a young couple that have the sweetest little girls on the block. The youngest is a daily reminder of my sister and the reason for this little ditty. Her name is Marie but I call her Sarah. She has long dark hair that she flips because she can and dances to the music in her head that only she can here. She is the neighborhood's little drama queen. I first became aware of her when she was in her yard and wanted to get back in the house. I heard her yelling...."Won't someone let me in? Why is this happening to me?" She sounded exactly like my sister. She stands on the hood of her dad's car and sings her heart out to anyone that will listen and has every little boy on the street at her feet doing her bidding. All this and she is only five...better keep an eye on her dad!

We have a few doors down a gentleman that I call "Idaho man". He moved here from Idaho a year or so ago and has been, up until now, the most annoying person I have ever had the pleasure of having as a neighbor. He and his family have invaded the street. They multiply like rabbits and are everywhere!

And that brings me to LaRue. LaRue is my elderly neighbor who now spends her winters in the Carolinas and Texas. She has to be the most lovable woman I have ever met. She is in her late 70s, and still very active. She knits lap robes for nursing homes and bonnets for preemies. She watches her grandson on the island almost full time and still manages to deliver for meals on wheels. I have spend many summer afternoons on her front porch just gossiping about the rest of the neighbors. It amazes me that she knows so much about her neighbors just by sitting on her porch...but then so do I.

The Smells of Life

smell n 1 the ability to sense things with the nose. 2 an odour. 3 an act of smelling. v 1 sense the smell of 2 give off a smell. SYNS n ODOUR, scent, aroma, perfume, fragrance, bouquet, stink, stench, reek; v 1 SCENT, sniff 2 STINK, reek *from the Oxford Dictionary and Thesaurus*

Now I bet you are wondering "What the devil is she talking about?" Well, I'll tell you. The other day I was rummaging through the refrigerator for something for lunch. The sliced turkey was calling me (I swear it was). And what goes good with turkey? Right, crispy bacon (my readers are brilliant). As I was frying the bacon, a memory of my childhood that was so strong, it almost knocked me over. I stood there and was transported to my Grandma Zaky's home. I loved the cottage she lived in. The first floor as you walked in was a mud room where Grandma would hang clothes in the winter and was basic storage. To the right was the kitchen...and to a little girl, huge. In the back of the kitchen to the left was the bath with the laundry beyond that. The stairs to the two bedrooms were in the back of the kitchen. And on the left was the parlor. During the winter months, Grandma would shut off the upstairs and sleep on the futon she had in the parlor and used as her sofa. She did this because the cottage was heated by a Moore heater in the parlor and the gas on gas stove in the kitchen (what I wouldn't give for that stove). We, meaning Jim and I, could only stay with her on during the warmer months. Oops, off the beaten path here. Back to bacon.

I was taken to the bedroom at the top of the stairs, the morning sun shining through the window. Grandma would never wake me, I was allowed to sleep as long as I like. However, even though she never woke me in the conventional way, she would wake me. I would be laying there, between the aired to dry sheets, smelling of sunshine when another smell would waft into the room...bacon, crisp fried bacon. This smell always reminds me of Sunday mornings with Grandma. I would stumble down the stairs (no morning person here) and plop onto the chair at my place at the table. Hair hanging in my face, head hung low and then there they came, two slices of bacon, along with eggs and toast. Then, dressed in our Sunday best, we would walk to St. Martin's for Mass. Now you have to understand, Grandma was a Roman Catholic, I'm a United Methodist. Two different worlds. And I loved to go with her. Please keep in mind that this was before Vatican II when Mass was still said in Latin. How I loved Mass in Latin. True, I didn't understand a word but it was elegant in the mind of a ten year old. Hell, it's still elegant in the mind of this 52 year old.

I love the smell of tobacco, cherry pipe tobacco, mmmm, I love the smell. Grandpa Jake smoked both cigarettes and a pipe. As a child I might be running through my grandparents home from the kitchen to the parlor by way of the dining room, coming to a screeching halt in front of the humidor. Opening the small door, I'd stick my face in there and inhale deep. Even though most states have laws now banning smoking in public places, ever now and again on a walk or bike ride in the neighborhood, some gentleman will be smoking a pipe filed with cherry tobacco. I have been known to turn and look for Grandpa.

Let's talk spring and lilacs. White ones, pinks ones, light and dark purple ones. A favorite of mine, my mom's and now my daughter, the smell of a lilacs brings floods of memories. It reminds me of Switzer's back property line. Warm spring days, under the fragrant bushes, sharing secrets with Laurie, my best friend. Memories of going to the railroad tracks on Leydecker Road to get lilacs for Mother's day with Dad in the spring and then for elderberries in the fall (hmmm, another story there). Shawn, Lenora's boyfriend, bringing me lilacs every other day just because she told him they were my favorites. Planting the lilac trees in the back yard of our first home and having them bloom in the fall after Mom passed, thanks for watching over me Mom.

All smells bring about some kind of memory, but not all the smells are pleasant. For example, the smell of a skunk. The smell of a skunk no longer bothers me, having grown up on a main street, which was heavily traveled by not only cars but large trucks as well, our street was hell on pets and small animals. A common summer night oder would be the pungent smell of skunk that filled the air. The smell was no longer pleasant after Ginger, our little terrier mix, decided to tangle with that little black and white kitty that made it's was to our back yard. She only understood that she was defending her family.

I did a little survey of friends to get their favorite smells...Randi loves the smell of men in Polo (so hoping she means the cologne and not the other polo) and the smell of bacon. Bleach is a favorite smell of Corky's, this may explain why she has become a treasured friend(I think we both have inhaled more bleach than we should). Darren is in love with the smell of bacon and strong black coffee brewing. In the time I have been friends with Darren, these scents are not a surprise to me. He has mentioned both in many a status. The sea is the favorite smell of Joj. Ted's claims his is "girls...girls...girls". Elvis has possessed him or my first thought is correct and I do not want to go there. Rexieman loves the smells of bacon (beginning to get hungry here) and fresh cut hay.

Other comfort smells for me are onions frying, burning paint, charcoal burning and leaves in the fall. When I smell Old Spice, Tabu or White Shoulders, I'm getting a hug from a loved one that is gone but most certainly not forgotten.

Next time you smell a fragrance, whether it's a rose, a turkey dinner or the smell of a newborn infant, embrace that scent and dive into the memory it brings you.

Memories of Moms

Mother's Day was a day I always took for granted when I was young. And now, that most of the "moms" in my life are gone I wish I hadn't.

Old Grandma Barren passed when I was about 4 or 5 years old. My memory of her is so strong it's like it was yesterday that I lost her instead of 50 years ago. Mary Barren was a woman small in stature but to me as large as life itself. My fondest memory of her fixing a small desert plate for herself, always on a diet, yet she would reach over and pick food off your plate. In later years I found out that Old Grandpa loved her enough to bring her to America, not once but twice, having taken her home of Austria because she was homesick. According to Mom, when Old Grandma passed, she came to me told me she had, that she'd be with me always and has been my guardian angel since...I've kept her busy.

Grandma Zaky was my favorite, or so I thought, because she spoiled me. I have hundreds of fond memories of this woman. She taught me to knit, crochet, bake and what it was to spend time with one you love. On any weekend stay with her, I would wake to the smell of bacon and fresh baked bread. We would walk to the bus stop and head downtown to shop at AM&A's then lunch at the Woolworth counter. And as an extra gift from her, I look like her.

Being with Grandma Jake was like being with Mom, who would have known I would have missed her so much. I remember watching her sewing doll clothes for extra money and working her crossword puzzles. But what impressed me most was her love and devotion to her husband. I have never known anyone with that kind of love, including myself. After Grandpa died, she died everyday until they finally pronounced her two years later.

And then, there is my godmother. My mother's sister, Pat. She was called Patsy when she was young, until the day she found out what a "patsy" was...from that day on, she was no one's Patsy. She does not let anyone walk over her and I find as I grow older, she has passed this on to me. Not to the degree she has mastered it but I'm a willing student always learning. My fondest memory of her is not one that I experienced with her but a story that was told by my mom. At one time, my grandparents owned a rabbit farm in West Seneca, at the mouth of what is now the entrance to the 400. They were getting prepared for a move back to Silver Creek and still had some rabbits left. Now one of those rabbits was a three legged little think that the girls (Mom and Aunt Pat) named "Peg Leg". Grandma made stew and used all the rabbits, including Peg Leg. Little Patsy, too young to count very high, never knew that there was an odd number of legs in the stew and assumed that little Peg Leg was given a good home. Very touching story. I wasn't until decades later, after her father died that Aunt Pat learned the truth about the pet. As she sat there in tears at the age of 32, her mother and sister, showing their sympathy, laughed like hell. It amazes me to this day that I knew of Peg Leg's demise before she did.

Evelyn Switzer was not my biological mother but the mom of my childhood best friend. Mrs. Switzer, the mother of seven, had a great sense of humor and was great to have around. She would play board games with us and later go drinking and camping with us. Thinking back on it now, she was probably in her 60s when she would go to the bars with Laurie and I. Bless her she could drink but what alway impressed me more was no matter how much she drink, that woman never had to pee! Looking back, she taught me that just because you become a mom doesn't mean you're life is over.

And then there is my Mom. She was my nurse (and had the cap to prove it), my maid, laundress, tailor, taxi driver, bank, cook and friend. I'm the mom I am today because of her. I have a lifetime of memories of this woman but among them, her dancing in the kitchen singing "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof. The look on her face when she realized I was there was a real Kodak moment.

Because of all these women I am proud to say that I am spoiled, I'm crafty, I can cook and bake, I'm feisty. I play hard. I love harder. I would love more than anything that in 50 years, there will be someone that says "and this is was I got from Lynda."