dona's 365

Mom called tonight to say Auntie June died. Auntie June taught me the secret to lump-free mashed potatoes. Mash the potatoes (electric mixer ok), add some butter, mash some more. Add milk when the potato mixture is smooth, never before. She had a lot of opinions, but had great advice.

Brian never seemed happy. He wrote in his journal about a monster that lived in his house and broke his toys. His mother cried when she read the entry, and told me about her once normal daughter who, after a high fever, was diagnosed with Autism. She was Brian’s monster.

With dark eyes, surrounded by long full lashes Gina was already a beauty in seventh grade. For some long-forgotten reason, Sr. Joan had it in for Gina. Each morning she'd present Gina with eye-makeup remover and a tissue and demand she wipe off her non-existent mascara. Gina always stoically complied.

Tom Cruise look-alike, smooth-talking, thirteen-year-old Diran even had the older nuns under his spell. He was nearly expelled from Catholic school for smoking in the boys’ room, but given a warning instead. He finally was kicked out when he brought a knife to the school. Not one of my successes.

When I first joined my film club, I was awed by Stan’s knowledge of the language of film. I still am, but Stan has other awesome qualities. About to retire from the government and studying to become a rabbi, his kind, soft-spoken, nature will serve him well in that capacity.

This past Friday, Karen was struck and killed by a car on her way to Temple a week before her son’s Bar Mitzvah. I hadn’t met Karen, but know her son who wrestles on my son’s team and have met her husband and daughter. Life is fragile. Hug your kids.

Each time Uncle Verne saw me after high school he’d ask, “Whatcha doing these days?” I’d reply, “I’m going to college,” and he’d say “College is a waste of time. Get a job like Bonnie .” Also the most racist person I’ve ever known; the “n-word” never far from his lips.

Dad ’s sister, Norma, though not the youngest, in the family, was the one who was coddled the most. She’d barely survived encephalitis as a child and always seemed a little too quiet. As an adult, her children regularly feuded with one-another and her ne’er-do-well husband caused quarrels with his in-laws.

One of my fellow student teachers in London, Bill’s chatter kept me in stitches most of the time. My favorite bit: “I knew not to expect the comforts of home, but I was surprised to not have heat in my room.” We both loved the Blockheads’ January 1979 hit single .

As we walked the dark path to the youth hostel, a swaying light seemed to be getting closer. It was an old man with a lantern. He was pleased to meet Americans in Ireland and shook our hands repeating, "How do you do." It reminded me of the rhyme .

Overheard when I was sixteen: “I’m living on borrowed time,” said the elderly neighbor who had the yard sale, “I should have died six months ago.” I don’t know how long she lived after that, but I bought a cookbook from her and remember her when I cook from it.

When Candy and I hitchhiked through Ireland we passed an old woman standing outside her cottage who impulsively invited us in for tea. As we made the tea and cut the bread, she sat and told us her recipe for Irish bread . I make it every single St. Patrick’s Day.

Barb yelled at other people’s kids, including me. Once she took me to feed carrots to the horse across the street. It bit me and I was afraid she’d yell at me. So I yelled, “I hate you!” to her first. Her daughter told my parents about that. They yelled.

The older waitress with whom I worked at the all-night pancake house obsessively and fastidiously scrubbed counters while complaining vociferously about the rotten job everyone else did in cleaning the workstations. Imagine my surprise then, when visiting her home with another co-worker, to see cockroaches crawling across her television screen.

Rosanne and I flipped a coin for Pat. She lost, so Pat became her teaching assistant. Pat had a mind of her own and wasn’t afraid to disregard explicit directions. Underneath it all she probably had a good heart, but we never saw it. I got her the next year.

Roy and June lived across the street from my childhood home. She was a nurse; I’m not sure what Roy was. They adopted David, Michael, Marie and Jeannie. Roy used to buy single bottles of beer from my dad when June was out of town. She disapproved of him drinking.

I have nothing but good memories of Nathan, Rosanne ’s son. He was a delight from the day I met him to the last day I saw him in his hospital room. He loved my kids and they loved him back. His death at thirteen was a blow to us all.

When I volunteered to do the web page for Cinema Art Bethesda , I didn’t realize it came with a position on the board of directors and a picky micro-managing VP. I cringed each time I saw Howard’s name in my inbox. What now? I’d wonder. Wasn’t the blue blue enough?

I didn’t know him well, but understand that Mr. Topolewksi enjoyed surprising his family. The year he asked me to be his son’s 17th birthday present somewhat proves that point. He died not long after that and I’m glad I was able to help him with one of his surprises.

I met Michael my first year in Pittsburgh. I’d walk to Mellon Park and spend afternoons reading and writing among the ruins. He’d always be there, exercising his golden retrievers. We’d spend hours talking about our lives. To this day I still think of him as The Mayor of Mellon Park.