Reindeer in the Sky

Reindeer in the Sky

The Schumanns were all there; lined up on the stairway between our apartments like bowling pins.  Grandma Rose stood her ground as the head pin. Grandpa Robbie who looked like movie gangster George Raft and their firstborn, Bert positioned themselves respectfully behind her. Remaining above was Uncle Herby; the most sweet-natured of the five siblings. My Aunt Evie, only fourteen years older than I and my favorite used her fingers as a comb to untangle Aunt Sandy’s curly hair. Sandy, who up until that moment was the baby of the family, rarely hid her disdain for me, making our encounters mostly unpleasant and sometimes a little scary. Even Spotty, the street dog that returned each night to sleep on the tiled floors between the two apartments, stayed in that morning sensing another scrap-source was arriving.

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It Takes A Mother

It Takes A Mother

I’m the happy product of the baby-boomer generation that afforded me a dad who worked long hours at his job and mom who worked longer hours at home.  My mother’s parenting began in the early morning hours, as she put together my three course breakfast before tiptoeing into my room to wake me.  For those of you born too late to be privy to 1950’s breakfast delights—here’s a sample:  fresh squeezed orange juice, or a grapefruit half, scrambled eggs, cold sugary cereal with whole milk and buttered toast with raspberry jam.  And that was only school-days fare—on weekends she served up multi-course feasts.

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