A collection of anecdotes all of which contain only 800 words.
It’s mid-March and another winter storm is expected to hit us. We had a foot just a week ago, since melted due to the warm, sunny days. The same is expected to follow this next storm. Wash, rinse, repeat. Each cycle creating a mini mud season with the road turning to muck.
I don’t mind the process of removing — or more accurately, moving — the snow when it falls. However, I still get nervous each time I mount the plow to the front of the truck and sit at the top of our steep hill, before inching the vehicle forward over the edge. Each time recalling the worst experience I had plowing my own driveway.
On the occasion of the 20th anniversary of my marriage to my best friend, I thought it would be nice to share our engagement story.
In a previous post I mentioned that my grandmother was quite a character. She had what people refer to as street smarts. She knew how to get what she wanted. She knew when to fight and also when to play the victim.
The summers and holidays I spent in western Pennsylvania were always a blast. Being around one’s people, but only doing so for brief periods at a time, is the best. My aunt’s and uncles showered me with affection. My cousins and I played and made memories. I also got to spend time with my Nana. Sometimes she was sweet, and other times she was swinging a wooden spoon at my culo.
My Italian grandmother was a real character. Everyone in my family has numerous Nana anecdotes, and whenever we get together the stories flow. She’s been gone for over 35 years, but we share these stories over and over again, and we never tire of them.
I plan to tell a few of these stories here, but the first one I want to share is all mine because I was the only one with her at the time.
This is a story that probably shouldn’t be written down. I promised nearly 30 years ago to keep it on the low-down. I don’t think there is any risk in sharing it here, but I will change names to protect reputations. No, this isn’t about sex.
In 1993 a group of my friends and I decided to drive from Los Angeles to Las Vegas to see the Grateful Dead play at the Silver Bowl. We booked a single room at the Circus Circus and shared the cost amongst us. Some of the friends came along for the adventure, but my buddy Dan* and I planned to attend two of the concerts.