Snapshots of Greece and Italy

The following are snapshot memories from our recent trip to Greece.

- Historic Athens surrounded by mountains, the Acropolis lit on a plateau above the city at night, graffiti covering the downtown by day.

Acropolis from our hotel

- A neo-Nazi demonstration in the central plaza across from Parliament, so quiet that only the speaker on the microphone could be heard a block away. The Greek military puffing on cigarettes in an alley around the corner, awaiting trouble.
- Volcanic cliffs of Santorini, with black beaches and towns of white perching recklessly on the outcroppings over the caldera. The caldera: a volcano that collapsed into itself under the sea.
- Olive trees, grape bushes, cacti, and occasional oleanders breaking Santorini's barren landscape that receives only two days of rain a year.
- The blades of quaint windmills jutting unproductively like a snowman's arms, now mere landscape ornaments.  Four hundred churches, each with a blue door.
- Between Santorini and another island cradling a volcano, cruise ships spewing thousands into the narrow streets of Oia and Fira to shop or have wedding photos taken against the spectacular scenery.

Oia, Santorini

- Greeks struggling to use the English they learned in elementary school so they might escape the 28% unemployment of their native country.











The following are snapshot memories from our recent trip

to Italy.

- A plate of the chef's specialty, octopus, for lunch on the island of Ischia, which nearly made me lose breakfast but proved to be delicious.

- A curly white coiffure on our driver from Rome to Anzio, whose three-piece suit and dazzling cuff links should have signaled he would drive as slowly as possible to collect an extra two hours' fee.

- The American Cemetery and Memorial in Nettuno, where 8,000 are buried following the battle of Anzio and where we found Charley's uncle's name on the marble "Missing in Action" wall.
- The Italians' love of American music, movies, "Levi's," neon or leopard or zebra-striped high-top sneakers, and tee shirts that made no sense.  Examples we saw on the shirts:

          a swollen gone-to-seed 70-yr-old man wearing "PLAYGROUND HERO"

          a rotund grandmother with a cane wearing "I HEART CURVES"

          a 12-yr-old girl featuring Marilyn Monroe with thick, injected lips emblazoned with the Italian flag

          a  fairy-like wisp of a woman with half a heart covering each minuscule breast and the word "LOVE" between them.

- The pace of life that allows a three-year lawsuit over our hotel's driveway, where the
neighbor created a narrow turn in the rock wall to stop the flow of anything bigger than golf carts. Like the stroller trashed in the bush of a private garden, the wall will remain till we visit again.

Sixty Is the New Sixty

So here I am approaching my sixty second birthday.   Sixty-two doesn’t sound so bad when you consider that I have an aunt who is approaching her one-hundred-and-second birthday.  I called my aunt on Mother’s Day. Although her hearing and eyesight aren’t what they used to be, she’s still sharp as a tack.  Before she goes to bed every night, she spends some time reflecting on her long life.  She raised two boys on her own and ran her own business.  She could play the piano and had a pretty good singing voice.  She was always tough, but she had to be.  She has outlived two husbands, all of her friends, and one of her children.  In my comparatively short sixty-two years I’ve had a chance to reflect on my own life. Choices good and bad, the best laid plans that aft gang agley, like my first marriage.  That marriage didn’t last very long and there were no children.  When I remarried, my second wife came with a pretty cool car (a vintage Stingray) and two children, a fifteen-year-old son and a ten-year-old daughter.  Now I was facing one of the toughest jobs on the planet… step parent.

Fortunately for me, their biological father was pretty much out of the picture.  That made things a little easier. At least I didn’t have to compete with anyone.

I’m not what you would call a fun guy. But I tried to be the fun dad. Take it from me, it doesn’t work. It was easier with my step daughter.  I surprised her with Riding Camp when she turned ten years old, and I built stables for her Breyer Horse collection. She wanted a fish tank; I got her a fish tank. She wanted to play the violin; I bought her a violin.  Is anyone out there interested in buying a violin? 

It was a much tougher with my step-son.  He was turning sixteen so we indulged him with a car. HUGE MISTAKE!  When he blew it up I paid for a new engine. EVEN BIGGER MISTAKE!

It was also tough on him.  He was taken away from all of his friends, his school, and his whole way of life. I was the lucky so-in-so who got him when he was at his most rebellious and fell in with the wrong crowd at school. I didn’t know how to relate to my step-son and he didn’t know how to relate to me. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how either of us made it through those years. My toughest lesson was learning how not to be the fun parent. Learning how to say NO!  That was tough.  My daughter wasn’t used to a step-dad who said no. My daughter is now twenty-four.

Then there was the problem of what to call me.  My step-son called me by my first name.  My step-daughter didn’t call me anything.  It was only through my wife that I found out she referred to me as her dad in front of friends. It took years before she called me ‘dad’ to my face, and even more years for my son to call me ‘dad,’ though he feels more comfortable calling me ‘Pops,’ which I don’t mind. I called my own father, ‘Pop.’  My son’s now twenty-nine years old and married.  We get along very well. I just wish he wouldn’t kiss me on top on my head.

The toughest thing about being a step-parent is that you never share that instant bond I’m told people feel with their biological children. It’s never there and it’s the biggest void you can experience. You’re their dad, but you’re never really Dad. You can’t be. That’s something every step-parent lives with.

So that’s what I reflect on.  What do I look forward to?   Walking my step-daughter down the aisle and maybe in the not-too-distant future, holding my first grandchild in my arms who will only know me as ‘grandpa.’

D. G. Weiss

Flirting Lessons

 

      I've learned recently that there's such a thing as flirting LESSONS.  And I thought we were supposed to know all this stuff by the time we were ten!
     I Googled "flirting lessons" and the following came up: "Lessons You Should Learn to Get Men to Chase You"; "Videos of Flirting Lessons"; "How to Flirt - Lessons for Women"; "How to Flirt with Guys" (44 videos for every conceivable situation); "Five Flirting Tips for Guys"; "How to Flirt with a Girl in High School"; "Flirting Lessons from Lesbians"; "Seventy-Seven Secrets of Love"; "Secrets of Love, Sex, and Intimacy."
     In a NY Times article on May 18,'14, John Leland described a social development coach for men who need to practice picking up women.  If the eye contact and conversation starters (4 sessions of "meditative mingling" for $1000 a month) aren't enough during practice sessions, there are always seduction seminars, $1200 weekend boot camps, web forums, workshops, and newsletters, often with money-back guarantees.
     According to a friend who actually took a flirting class for women, she received the following syllabus for discussion and practice sessions.

I.  Physical appearance to promote self-confidence

          a.  Go to the makeup counter in your local department store for free advice and a makeover.

          b.  Indulge in a new outfit with appropriate shoes while in the department store (see #2 below).

2.  Join any of the following social groups or clubs where men congregate:

          a.  Professional club
              You will need to purchase a black fitted dress that falls to the knee or
               just above the knee
              with a  jacket.  Cleavage is not acceptable.  Find 3" black heels,
              one necklace (not over-sized), matching earrings,
              and a small shoulder bag you can hang over the back of a chair.

          b.  Fitness Center
               You will need a sports bra, spandex black tights,
                new sneakers with neon laces.
                A tank top is optional.

          c.  Golf course/club
               You will need a lime green or pink golf skirt with a coordinated top,
               colorful golf shoes, and a visor from any course on the pro tour.
               The brand of the clubs doesn't matter!

          d.  A sporting event
              You will need a sweatshirt from Vegas and a baseball cap
              from your favorite team.  If  you're attending a polo match,
              it's a completely different look - think "Pretty Woman."
           
          e.  Happy hour at a sports bar
              You will need studded jeans with a camisole (amount of cleavage is
              up to you) and stilettos OR
              a zippered mini-skirt with a camisole and gladiator sandals.

3.  Invite your brother to dinner with a few of his male friends or his entire team
     and practice approaching them as a group.  If you don't have a brother,
     invite some girlfriends over for wine and get them to pretend to be men.
     Lead-off lines could be:

          a.  What's the best way to learn the rules of ________ (fill in a sport)?
   
          b.  What's the best fitness center around?

          c.  How many days a week do you work out (practice, play)?

          d.  (Golf)  What's the most beautiful course you've ever played?

          e.  Do you work in town?

          f.  Who here can cook?  Where do you get your ingredients?

          g.  Does anyone here commute internationally to work?

4.  As part of a conversation in a mixed group, spread the word you're interested
     in meeting someone.

          a.  "I like coming here, but my girlfriend isn't a big fan.
                How often do you come?"

          b.  "Do you have an available _____________ (brother - uncle- father)?"

          c.   Zero in on one candidate who looks promising and ask him questions
                about himself. If he doesn't ask you questions in return, move on!

5.  From The Guardian.com, suggestions to practice (Helen Croydon's
    "How to Flirt - Lessons for Women"):
       
          a.  In a bar scene, exude a lively, approachable vibe.  Stay animated and
              look like you're having fun. Don't sit down (it puts you out of reach).

          b.  Smile but look relaxed.  Use the surroundings as conversations starters.

          c.  Wear an accessory that invites someone's comment.

          d.  Make plenty of eye contact (hold for 5 seconds, smile or wink to see
               what happens).

          e.  Lean inward toward the person initiating a conversation with you.

          f.  Ask questions, then listen (keep the focus of the conversation on
              the other person).

         g.  Be open to new people and opportunities.

DO NOT

Chew gum!

Wear more than two gold chains, a Rolex, a wedding band, or diamonds!

Wear makeup that cakes in your wrinkles!

Wear heels that make you walk as though you're drunk!

Good luck.

           
 
           

A Busy Time

My hairdresser in Florida, Jill, has two girls, ages sixteen and thirteen.  Summer, the older, pitches for her high school softball team, which recently competed in its regional semi-finals.

The tournament was in Homestead, Florida, between Miami and the Keys.  It's where Hurricane Andrew hit in 1992 and a good ninety minutes from their home in Delray Beach.  Also about as far away as you can get from Tallahassee, where the family was supposed to attend Jill's step-daughter's graduation from Florida State the day after the tournament.

"I just got off the phone with Summer's coach AND the division president," Jill's husband, Mike, said.  "I thought they could reschedule the game for the previous night, but the division president won't allow it."

"Did you really think they'd change a tournament for one player?  Why don't you go up to Tallahassee for the family dinner on Friday night?  I'll take the girls to the tournament in Homestead.  The three of us will drive straight through to Tallahassee after it's over, and the girls can sleep in the car. At least we'll be there to get good seats for the graduation," Jill said.

"But I can't drive the truck all the way up to Tallahassee," her husband said.

"You take our car and I'll rent one for me and the girls."

Halfway to Homestead that Friday Jill's rental died. They waited for AAA and got back on the road an hour later, arriving at the tournament as the national anthem blared through the p.a. system.  Summer pitched five innings and her team won. The state finals would be the following weekend.

They woke Mike up in his hotel in Tallahassee at 1 a.m. and arose at 6 a.m. for the graduation.  Parking was impossible, but they found a spot for their SUV ten blocks away.  Jill wore new orange heels to go with her sundress.  Two blocks before the stadium, one of her heels caught in a crack and tore away from the sole. "At least the blood goes with my red and orange dress," she said, as her husband helped her up off the sidewalk and offered his handkerchief.  Jill completed the walk in bare feet.

That afternoon, after spending time with the graduate, Mike, Jill, and the girls drove to Ocala, where their friend, Al, owned some cabins.  "I haven't seen this place, but how bad could it be?  We're only going to stay one night. Besides, they're treating us to dinner at their restaurant," Mike said.

Al greeted them warmly and led them to their cabin.  "We'll see you at the restaurant in about an hour," Mike said.  He plopped his carry-on bag and Jill's onto their bed.  Dust rose up in a cloud.  Jill pulled the bedspread back.  The blanket looked like Swiss cheese.

"There's no signal here," Summer announced.  "No cell phone and no internet.  Great!!"

"I know.  We couldn't use the GPS either," Mike said.

They rallied to eat.  The menu consisted of fried everything - catfish, shrimp, and scallops, to name a few. Jill and her daughters pushed the heavy food around their plates, but Mike dug in  The bill arrived for $60.  "I thought we were Al's guests," Jill whispered to Mike.

"So did I."  The family was on the road by 6 a.m. the following morning.

Summer's state championship game would be played the following weekend in - you guessed it - Tallahassee.  "Try to find a teammate whose parents are going," Mike said.

A Dental Visit

I've honestly never minded going to the dentist, probably because I have a high tolerance for pain. Two natural childbirths within sixteen months with one shot of Demerol between them proved that.

Twice a year I visit the periodontist who put in my implants.  I've never minded those appointments, either.  The implants were nothing compared to a root canal I had once.

"Open, please," Stacy, the hygienist, said during my last visit.

I did as I was told.  She began poking and prodding with the metal hook, but I was used to her touch. I wasn't worried.

With each poke she made a notation about the amount my gums had receded.  Fortunately, they hadn't gone very far.

"Your implants look really good and I'm sure you floss regularly," she said.  "There are no cavities so far."

I didn't respond.  I just sat there with my mouth open until she finished my uppers and downers.

A whining began behind my left ear.  "Open again, please."

Stacy adjusted the lamp to hit the back right portion of my teeth.  She brought a shiny metal arm toward my mouth.  It didn't look like a drill.

Oh lord, what's that? my eyebrows asked her, furrowing together in dread.

"This is a new laser cleaning system," she said, reading my thought.  "Just relax.  It's pretty gentle."  She guided the whining metal claw into my mouth.

"Yikes, that hurt," I gurgled while the tube in my mouth continued its sucking sound.  There was nothing gentle about zapping a nerve!

Stacy drew the shiny claw backward. I counted to five before she approached my right wisdom teeth again.

What had I done to deserve this?  Couldn't she just scrape the plaque off like she'd always done?  One more shot to the nerve and I'd be out of this chair!

That did it!!  I sat upright, pulling at the "J"  tube that dribbled water down my bib.  "Stacy, you're going to have to scrape the plaque like you used to."

"Well, most of my patients can tolerate this new cleaning system, but for those who can't, I'm happy to scrape."

Was something wrong with this picture?  I was actually going to be happy to have my teeth scraped with a thin crochet hook!  I opened my mouth before Stacy even asked.

I held it open for twenty minutes and after the scraping I held it open while the rotating brush deposited its gummy brightening paste.  When we were done, there was just one problem.

I couldn't close my mouth.  My jaw had locked.  And it was painful.  I think I would have preferred the pain from the claw.

Dr. Pechter massaged my jaw until it unlocked.  Six months later I was diagnosed with TMJ - Temporomandibular Joint Disorder.  My instructions were to open my mouth only partway, eat soft foods, and do jaw exercises.  Oh yes, and close my mouth every five minutes in the dentist's chair to give my jaw a rest.  Charley thought that last one was a good idea for home, too.

Rules Are Meant To Be Broken (When Grandchildren Visit)

.....No dessert till you finish your meal (here, have some of my ice cream)

.....Clean up your toys before we leave (don't worry, I'll help you)

.....Hold hands when we get to the street or parking lot (or you can ride on Papa's shoulders - I have some Aleve for his back)

.....No running in the house or at the pool (I've run out of Band-Aids for your boo-boos)

.....Don't play with Grandma's knickknacks or in her storage trunks (what gets blood out of the carpet?)

.....Keep your napkin in your lap while you eat (we'll get a new one - the one you threw on the floor is dirty)

.....Don't jump on Grandma and Papa's bed  (if you jump on your own, don't let me catch you!)

.....Don't hit each other or there WILL be time-outs (and I don't want to know who started it)

......Put your dishes next to the sink when you finish eating (I know you got mixed up and dumped them in the sink and broke the dishes in there - you didn't mean it)

.....No whining or sulking in Florida (ha ha)

.....Don't touch the coral in the ocean (but come this way and step on the ledge to walk in)

.....Wash your hands before you eat and after the toilet (are you sure that's water on them or is it something else?)

.....Don't hurt any living thing (hurry up, Charley, and kill that gigantic thing crawling on the floor!)

.....You don't have to pee four times in a restaurant (OK, I'll go with you again)

.....Don't cheat when we play Candyland (but I'll let you jump three spaces this one time)

.....Bedtime is 8 p.m. (OK, you can watch a video and stay up till it's over)

.....Each of you pick one book for story time (Grandma has lozenges if you really want her to read all those)

A Ladies' Tennis Match

I am contemplating using this title for my next book:  A Survival Guide for Women's Tennis Teams.  I invite stories from all of my present and past teammates!

An article that appeared in local Florida papers in the last few days
convinced me I would have endless material.  Here's a recap.

The headline:  "Punches Fly at Tennis Match"                        

The story:

Melanie Carter, age 47, wife of Hall of Fame wide receiver Cris Carter (formerly of the Minnesota Vikings and Miami Dolphins), was in the middle of a heated women's doubles match for her team at a private club in Boca Raton, Florida.

The match was so heated, in fact, that the four women needed a lines person to settle disputed calls.
Lines people during inter-match play are usually volunteers, one from each team that is playing, if possible.  They stand midway at opposite ends of the court on the outside of the service line.
South Palm Beach County Women's Tennis Association rules state that a lines person can only make a call if asked to do so by the women playing the match.

A line call was in dispute (again).  The four women asked the lines person to make a ruling.
Kimberly Ann Fox, age 43, did so.  She ruled that the point should be played over.

According to the police report, Melanie didn't like the decision.  She moved toward Kimberly, arguing the ruling. "Are you going to hit me?" Kimberly asked.

You guessed it!  Melanie punched her.  According to Melanie, Kimberly head-butted her in return.  Kimberly denies doing any such thing!

The women fought sprawled on the clay court for several seconds before others separated them.  Boca Raton Fire Rescue paramedics treated Melanie for a cut on her face and knee and Kimberly for rib bruises.  Two staples now hold a small cut together on the back of Kimberly's head.

No arrests were made because of conflicting witness stories and a lack of video.

Melanie has been banned from the League.