Mosquitos and Roach Clips

Young Rocky country cruising in one of his many very cool vehicles

When I was a kid, the star of my family was my little brother Rocky, a fearless and funny kid, with an unerring eye for the absurd. In spite of the difference in our ages, I was seven years older, we got along famously. When our adult cousin Maryanne told her toddler son Wayne to pull up his sagging pants, Wayne tugged at his pants, muttering “I are. I are,” while Rocky and I rolled on the floor laughing hysterically.

Rocky today

     Back in those days, the big kids in the family cared for the little kids while the parents worked. For many summers I was Rocky’s babysitter.  Which meant that Rocky did what I did, age appropriate or not. We lived on a lake, and spent just about every day at the dock in front of our house, swimming with neighborhood kids. One day Rocky and I decided to swim across the lake. Rocky was almost five years old. The lake was not wide, and Rocky was a great swimmer. I thought it was very cool that Rocky and I could swim across the lake and back. Wow! That night at the dinner table I proudly told my parents what Rocky and I had done that day. My mother dropped her fork. As it clattered into her plate she said “You did what with your 5-year-old brother?” I said it again, unsure this time, suddenly sensing the scene turning dark. “Rocky and I swam across the lake. And back!”  Suddenly I was in deep trouble, a sadly familiar place for Rocky and me in those days.
    One fall, in honor of football season, a gas station handed out plastic football helmets to the kids of parents who filled up their tanks with gas. Rocky got a helmet, of course, and immediately set out to test its strength. He donned his helmet, then ran, as hard and fast as he could, head down, into the side of the house. My mother heard the crash and ran outside to find Rocky, spread eagle, knocked out cold, in the autumn leaves. That helmet wasn’t so great, he said, when he regained consciousness. And I was thankful that the crash had occurred on Mom’s watch, and not mine.

Michael, Rocky and me in Nova Scotia one bright summer day

    I had a friend back then, who also lived on the lake. Janet would ask “what is Rocky up to? He’s such a funny little guy.” And I would entertain her with stories of Rocky’s latest antics. We were in a contest to see whose little brother could do the craziest thing.
   Janet’s own little brother once jumped into the washing machine, while it was going, and broke his leg. While he recovered, Janet’s mother would have us come to their house after school to play with him, as much as that was possible—it was like trying to get a kitten to stay put—as he languished for weeks on the couch in a massive cast. Rocky’s casts, and he had plenty through the years, never rendered him immobile. Even a broken leg and cast did not keep him from riding his motor bike around the yard or from hiking into the woods, on his trusty crutches.
    Today’s parents keep a much better eye on their kids. Kids don’t play outdoors, unsupervised, for hours on end, and they learn to read before they learn to swim.  They are far worldlier than we were, and suffer way fewer broken bones. But they are still funny.
    One early summer evening, my baby grandson watched as his father tilled the garden patch.

John and Will catch a fish

    “Will,” his father said, “do you remember last summer when we had a garden here and we grew cucumbers and tomatoes?”
    Yes, he did, Will said.
    “And do you remember all the other good food we raised here in our garden?”   
    Again, Will remembered.

John and Will

    “Will, what would you like to grow in our garden this year?” his father asked.
    “Cake,” Will answered.
    The same kid, now 8, went to chess camp this summer. He came home, sat down with his father to a game, and beat him in three moves. Later that night, at the dinner table, Will’s little brother John, 5, announced that when he grows up he plans to be a fireman. His parents nodded their approval and then asked Will what he wanted to be when he grows up.
    “A professional football player,” Will said. “What would you want your son to be? A big star who brings home the bacon, or a guy who gets cats out of trees?”

John & Will with their amused parents

    John, 5 now, and, like his brother Will about as smart as a little kid can be, started a new school this week. On day two of his school career John ran into trouble for talking at a time when he was supposed to be being quiet, and for not taking a rest at nap time. When his mother asked him about his misdeeds, John reasoned them away. As for talking on line—he was “only telling a couple of knock-knock jokes.” And at naptime, “the teacher wouldn’t even let me get a book.”
    My friend Stephanie, who lives up the Keys, told me this about her little boy.
    “The mosquito truck is coming by,” Stephanie said.
    “Oh Mom,” he said, with a heavy sigh, “don’t we have enough mosquitos yet?”
    A little Key West kid, around 5, whose parents shall remain unnamed, had to have stitches. The doctor patiently explained each step of the procedure, and the kid did well. A week later, he was returned to the doctor’s office for the removal of the stitches. Just like before, the doctor patiently explained to the little guy what would happen next.
    “This is what I'm going to use this to remove those stitches,” the doctor said, holding up a shiny, silver hemostat.
    “A roach clip?” the kid gasped.



 A new funny kid story: Grandson John, 5, is a genius at remembering maps, states and capitals. You have to know that to understand why Michael and I were howling with laughter when this arrived from Michael's daughter Meredith. 

Meredith:  John, WHAT is that on the couch?

John:  I don't know.

Meredith: You are the only one in here. What is that on the couch?

John:  Idaho.

Mini-update & Isagenix

I guess I lied when I said I would be back soon! ;) I am back though & making some major changes in my life. For the better, of course!

First off, I have been enjoying a break from all things baby though every time I turn around, someone else is pregnant or telling me they are going to start trying. This week is hard since our first little one would be welcomed into the world. I don't know how others who have miscarried handle it but I just keep thing about how much life would have changed this week. Sweet baby will always be in our hearts!

Fitness is finally back ON! I spent the whole month of July training hard, getting in my cardio & eating well but nothing seemed to change. Enter August & I decided to try something that I'd been reading about for MONTHS!

Kevin & I are doing well. Gearing up for another Halloween adventure in Orlando. We are calling it our delayed anniversary trip ;) And yes, we will be off to Halloween Horror Nights once again! I CAN'T WAIT!! haha

Molly is becoming quite the handful too. She's almost 27 pounds now & about 4.5 months old. We are definitely in the naughty puppy phase with her & started puppy school 2 weeks ago then were off for the holiday. But she is doing well with the skills she learned just that first night. I laugh & say I would be good too if you were bribing me with food ;) Here's a picture of her favorite sleeping position. Classy, eh? lol



*enter total commercial sounding blurb*

I decided to start using Isagenix products after seeing some friends & teammates benefit from them. They are a whole foods type supplement in the form of proteins, meal replacement, vitamin paks, non-depleting cleanses, etc. I have been using them for a month now after being stuck & have dropped 9 pounds, sleeping better, recovering faster from workouts & just feeling overall better. I had a friend decide to try them by just using the shakes & after a week she felt great. She's now using what is called the Athlete's Pak & feeling better than ever.

Was I skeptical? Oh yes, just because someone says it's great doesn't always mean it will be. I actually figured I'd get my month's worth of stuff, not like it & cancel. I was wrong. I know there are folks who read this & think that I'm nuts (actually, I have had negative comments made both directly & I'm sure ones that I'm not aware of) but I can only say that you can only know if you try something for yourself. It's a little pricey for the products & what can be certified organic is (like the protein.) I am actually saving money at the grocery store by just replacing 2 meals a day (eating 5-6 times daily most days) with shakes.

The other benefit is that I'm earning some residual income now too from the company. It's actually going to be my vacation spending money then will pay for my monthly products (which was my initial goal.)

Why am I sharing this? Yes, I'm an Isagenix Consultant & yes, I am earning residual income. But my purpose in sharing is because I feel so great using this product & I want others to feel this way too.

Want to know more?
Isagenix
Isagenix Health (where you can find out how Isagenix could help your health issues)

One of the main reasons, I was comfortable using this stuff is because it is safe for breastfeeding & pregnancy (not the deep cleanse.) I have friends that utilized the products during both times & I would not use anything now that I could not use then.

This blog is not going to turn into the Isagenix blog but I wanted to share what I am doing now. Please let me know if you are interested & I can provide you additional information (either by commenting with your contact info or completing the "contact me" section on the Isa website (top right corner.)

I *hope* to get back to blogging more regularly. At least once a week is my goal. We'll see how that goes! Enjoy your weekend!!!

Letting Go

Dr. Siddhartha Venkatappa, Oncologist

Yesterday Key West said goodbye to our two-day-a-week oncologist, Dr. Siddhartha Venkatappa (Dr. V), who will return, full-time, to his practice in Miami. Not to worry, people. The office will stay in its same location on the Boulevard, same wonderful staff, with a new oncologist taking over. We will not be without a cancer doc.
    After all these years, actually most of my life, in quirky, come-and-go Key West, it still makes me sad when a person or a place that has become a fixture in our community, leaves. I’m sure Dr. V’s wife and children are happy that he’ll be home more often. His partners in Miami will be pleased, too, to have another doctor to share patients every day of the week. But for those of us whose relationship with Dr. V is based on the most frightening and life-altering event life can offer, a deadly cancer, the connection is strangely intimate. And thus, important.       
    Dr. V has seen me taken down by chemotherapy to a pitiful, bald scarecrow. He has seen me choking on my own tears, and kindly waited for me to regain my composure. He has told me that he has no idea of how long my remission from cancer will hold. Of course no one does, but at least Dr. V has the honesty to say it to me, out loud, and to stand by that diagnosis a whole year down the road from my last cancer treatment. I appreciate knowing that truth, brutal though it sometimes feels.
    Through the two years we’ve known each other, we’ve made a few adjustments in how we communicate during in our brief encounters. For example, the first time I went to him as a patient, Dr. V referred several times to “the man upstairs,” and I had to remind him that I was there for medical treatment, not faith healing. There has been no more talk of the man upstairs.

Brother Rocky and me, August, 2010.   Rocky told me that when he left Key West that day he believed he would never see me again. Two days later our Mom died.

    I have learned that Dr. V will carefully consider each and every question I put to him, and respond as if writing the answer to an essay question, listing information and building a case for his bottom line.  One day, after one of his patients, someone I knew,  died unexpectedly when their cancer took a sneaky and vicious turn, I asked Dr. V “Aren’t you frightened by this cruel disease of cancer?” and he replied “Absolutely not! If I was intimidated by cancer I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to become an oncologist.”    
    I have heard that many of Dr. V’s siblings back in India are lawyers and that he is the first doctor in the family. Dr. V has told me that his was an arranged marriage and that by the time he actually met his wife, they were engaged to be married. Of course the Internet has taken away much of the mystery of the arranged marriage, he said. But isn’t it nice to imagine starting out a relationship with a grown up person who, like you, is seeking marriage and a family? So neat and scientific. Like oncology. You almost envy it. It’s so hard here in America finding The One.
    Once I saw Dr. V in the airport. He was deep in conversation with another guy, but I politely requested his attention for a moment, to explain to him how baffled and frightened we were about what we’d heard was going on with a loved one. I know this is shamefully akin to asking a doctor at a cocktail party to examine a mole on your foot—but like I said, there is an intimacy between the cancer patient and the cancer doctor that, in my mind, cancels out self-consciousness. My son and I were headed to the hospital bed of his suddenly very sick father. Dr V left his seat to come to where my very distraught son was sitting and explained to Miguel and me what would probably happen. And he was right. What he told us turned out to be pretty much what happened to Miguel’s dad—who is fine today, just like Dr. V said he probably would be.

Miguel and me (in a wig), November 2010

    Yesterday I told Dr V of a dream I’d had many years ago, before I came to Key West. In it, I was told that I would have a long, happy life and then die of leukemia. Dr. V told me about Freud’s theory of dreams, which he happens to be reading currently. He says dreams are bits and pieces of events from the past few days or weeks, aligned by the imagination, and arranged into a story that makes sense to the dreamer. He suggested that dreams don't actually predict the future, or even mean that much.
      He added that if I did get leukemia due to changes in my bone marrow brought about by the chemotherapy and radiation treatments, it would happen ten to fifteen years from now. And if that happened, if I were to live that long, my treatment would be considered to be very, very successful indeed. And dying of leukemia, he added, is really not a terrible death.
    Last night I dreamed I was jogging on the beach and then couldn’t find my way home to my downtown neighborhood. As I wandered, I found myself at the (defunct) Dennis Pharmacy Luncheonette, talking to an old woman, dead and gone now, who worked there long ago. I asked her to direct me to my house on Truman Avenue, and she pointed, saying, “right over there.” But no road ever took me home. I woke up, thinking Freud was so wrong. Dreams so do mean something.

High in the Smokies with Valerie Hoh

Dennis and Valerie, Bryson City, N.C. August 2011

Twice lately people have sent to me photographs of bears walking in their back yards—one photo accompanied by an invitation to visit Asheville. No thanks. Why don’t you come here? I said.  So a couple of weeks ago Valerie Hoh and her husband, Dennis, came to our vacation rental house in the Smoky Mountains. We’d rented a big house there for a reunion with our kids. By Monday the kids had all left. We’d rented the house for the entire week. So we invited Valerie and Dennis over—they live in Asheville—to share in the pleasure of the Smoky Mountain air and a refrigerator full of left-behind food. We’d over-shopped, of course, and everyone had arrived with treats. There were melons and

Valerie and June feeling special in Hip-Hop Wraps

peaches and tomatoes and peppers and onions and cheese, bacon and eggs. We needed help!
    For many years Valerie and Dennis lived in Key West. An artist with a head for business as well as design, Valerie operated the store Pandemonium, on Duval Street. It featured beautiful and artistic things to wear and use and live with. In the same building she opened a gallery of work by Cindy Wynn, another truly innovative artist. Wynn creates furniture out of discarded metal and steel objects. Valerie called the store/museum Reworx.  Perhaps it was ahead of its time. Reworx didn’t seem to catch on.
    In 2005 Valerie and Dennis decided that Key West had become too challenging financially, and that Asheville would be a more manageable place to live. They sold their Key West house at the height of the real estate boom, and moved to Asheville. Valerie says she hasn’t regretted the move for a single second. Of course they do spend two months in Key West each winter and that’s gotta take the sting out of spending the other 10 months in bear country. 

Flip-Flop Hip-Hopper Miguel Perez in Valerie Hoh

    Valerie is also interested in cooking, and together, in the mountains, we fashioned several divine meals. Valerie, described by our mutual friend Jon Hynes as “a sort of life coach”, is full of great information and advice on a wide variety of subjects, from food, to fabric, to finance. She is currently involved in a movement to prevent a condominium complex from being built in her neighborhood. Valerie says she is making a name for herself in Asheville as a political activist, yet another focus of her bright light. She maintains her sparkling vitality with Tai Chi as well as a daily exercises called Somatics. Dennis does a set of yoga poses and stretches each morning. They meditate daily.
     One afternoon, as we danced together, Valerie told me that in Asheville Dennis goes to a studio where he dances to the 5Rhythms, a sort of philosophy of dance and movement by Gabrielle Roth. I downloaded some 5Rhythm music onto my iPod and dance to it at the beach. When people see me gyrating to the rhythms in my head, they stare, and I tell them: "Valerie Hoh made me do it!"

Michael Keith, in Valerie Hoh, 1987. "You should be a work of art or wear one." Oscar Wilde. I married one.

Anne, in Valerie Hoh, at our wedding, 1988.

    One day Valerie wrapped a fabulous thing around my head, wearable art by Valerie Hoh. It’s called a hip-hop wrap and she says it makes you feel special to wear it. It does! I call it my “Hoh Do-Rag.” As in “Hoh does” ... and does and does! One night she wore her hip-hop wrap and I wore mine and we took photographs—for you! 
     Last night son Miguel, producer of a brand of music he calls “flip-flop hip-hop”, expertly wrapped the Valerie Do around his head as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Then he posed for my camera.
    In February, Valerie stages a show of her incredible fashions at Key West's Gardens Hotel. There is music, food and drink, and since Valerie does everything she does with drama, wit and flair, the show is a terrific event. Her devoted Key West fans show up to socialize and have a look at what new ideas Valerie has brought to life. The pieces are for sale, too. In the meantime, check out Valerie’s stuff at HohCouture.com.  Plug in iamfurniture.com to see Cindy Wynn's wild works. 
     Wondering who else has a bear in their back yard? Our great friends Eugenie and Tad Malek in Northampton, Mass.  Eugenie is a brilliant world class pianist, who I’ve had the great pleasure of knowing since my childhood.  But that’s another blog. In the meantime, I gotta say, those art-loving bears get around!

 Check out Flip-Flop Hip-Hop featuring our son Miguel here:

A Great Funeral

Our family, being Lebowskis

A few months ago, after the passing of a friend for whom there was no plan for funeral arrangements, my husband and I had the Big Talk about how we would want things to go should one of us shuffle off this mortal coil.  Between us we've endured several bouts of cancer, a heart attack and the assorted atrocities of growing older. We've seen good friends, super specimens of vitality, succumb to illnesses and death. We've been to funerals that seemed to have nothing much to do with the departed soul as we knew them. We know what we don't want to happen. So we decided we needed a plan.
     "I want a big party with lots of laughing, dancing, and fun for my send-off," I said.
     "I would like for my kids to be together, all in one place, to celebrate my life," Michael said.

The Dude (Michael), Susan (my co-conspiritor) and Walter (Rocky)

     Then, we thought: What are we waiting for? Let's do this thing now. Let's celebrate our lives with the people who mean the very most to us. Let's do it now, while we still have our dancing feet in gear. And so the Smoky Mountain family retreat was conceived.
     We decided on a rental house in Bryson City, North Carolina, a place special to Michael and me. When he was a child Michael's family vacationed in the Smoky Mountains. We'd gone there for our honeymoon. It was much easier for our kids to access Bryson City than Key West. Through VRBO (vacation rental by owner) we found a big house, on the side of a mountain, and after much investigation, found it to be the perfect setting for our party.

We love the Dude!!

     Michael's birthday is in August, and so the kids and I decided to stage a party for that, and for him. His favorite movie is The Big Lebowski. Oldest daughter Susan and I decided on a Big Lebowski-themed party, which set off weeks of hushed telephone planning sessions, and many visits to thrift shops for plaid shorts and baggy bathrobes with hanging belts. Youngest daughter Meredith created "In and Out Burger" wrappers for the hamburgers we would serve at the party. Miguel, our son, downloaded the entire musical score of the film on my I-Pod. On our way out the door I grabbed The Big Lebowski DVD and threw it into my suitcase. Everyone, from the Dude himself (Michael) to our 5-year-old grandson arrived packing a robe and plaid shorts. Everyone had been instructed to watch The Big Lebowski and be ready for speaking in nothing but quotes from the film.

The Dude abides

     A few days before leaving Key West for the mountains, Michael, the guy who would rather have a root canal than endure a surprise birthday party, said: "You're up to something."
   "What could we possibly be up to?" I said. "Do you imagine we would set up "Michael Keith—This is Your Life" in the heart of the Smoky Mountains?? Shut the F--- up, Donnie!" (It's a line from the movie.)

Costume for the Big Lebowski party

     By the weekend, we had assembled in that house on the mountain all four of our kids, my brother Rocky (our fifth kid), all four grandkids, and a plan for a Saturday night cook-out featuring In and Out Burgers, and music from The Big Lebowski. While Michael sat outside, innocently communing with nature, we all slipped into our Lebowski costumes. Then we hit the button on the I-Pod player and called Michael into the house and handed him a White Russian, the Dude's favorite drink. We got him. He was surprised. But since our guests were all family, he was not horrified, but rather, very amused. We had a ball eating, dancing, and trying to not say the F word, so integral to The Big Lebowski script, in front of the kids. Sometime in the middle of that night, while we Lebowski fans slept, some creature came onto the porch, knocked over a trash can, pawed through our greasy In and Out Burger wrappers, and apparently attempted to eat a football. The ball, which my son-in-law said was made of finest pigskin, was punctured and deflated. Wow!

Partying at our own funeral

     Now we're back home, remembering our nine days in the mountains. Many times we've gone over again and again the many events, days and nights, and funny moments we experienced on that special vacation. We've marveled at the miracle of somehow assembling each and every one of our kids and their kids together.  Michael says it was one of the best times he ever had with his kids.
     "It really was a great funeral, wasn't it?" he says.



Next week:  "Let Me Tell You About My Grandkids" and the week after that:  "Cooking at High Altitudes With Valerie Hoh."

Hi!

Be back real soon. Lots of stuff going on, life is better & I will catch everyone up soon. But in the meantime, look who came home a couple months ago ;)

The Way To A Key Wester's Heart

Come on in! The doors are open!

 Key Westers are accustomed to mourning change.  Conversation about what’s gone, what’s not as good as it used to be, what’s happening in a way we don’t appreciate, is about as common as chickens on this island. It is not often that something absolutely wonderful happens, something that pulls us together in a communal spirit of renewal and joy. But here it is, just in time for the summer doldrums: the Deli is back to rescue us all from cooking our own breakfast, lunch and dinner. The Deli is back with old-school cooking, flowery vinyl tablecloths, and prices on a par with buying the food at the grocery store and cooking it yourself. Best of all, some familiar faces are back, too. Waitress Kim, of the sky blue eyes, is on duty again and so is Rhonda, who appears on Wednesday nights. Essy, who says all she knows how to do is waitress (my kind of server!) is new, bringing to the mix a splash of Latin flavor.  We’re waiting for Rebecca to reappear. We know you’re still on the island, Rebecca . . .

Richard Watherwax photo:  Bobby Bernreuter with super-servers Kim (left) and Essy

   The Deli has been in its present location, according to their brochure, since the year of my birth, and that’s a long, long time. I’ve been eating there since my son was a baby in a stroller. We breakfasted there often. While I sipped my coffee, slightly hungover as often as not, and perused the Miami Herald (the Citizen arrived in the afternoon back then) Miguel sat in his baby seat, eating his pancakes, content and quiet, watching the world go by. My son has consumed many, many meals at the Deli restaurant, just as everyone in my family has at one time or another.  Less than two blocks from our house, it has been a staple in our mealtime agenda for years. Anyone from the mainland who has visited us in Key West has eaten at the Deli. If you lined up all of the French fries served there, end to end, the chain would surely stretch around the world three times. If you lined up French fries consumed only by me, the chain would go around only once.

Dewan Islam, former cook, current partner

    My husband Michael’s favorite dish is the fried chicken, which takes longer to prepare than most other offerings at the Deli. Long ago he began calling ahead to the kitchen, asking the cook to “drop him a chicken” so it would be hot and ready by the time we arrived. It gives him an insider’s kind of pride to be able to do that. Now, he can do it again because the phone number hasn’t changed and neither has the fried chicken! We had some the other night. I had the patty melt, which was a real patty melt with onions on rye bread, the way a patty melt is supposed to be.
    Yesterday, a half-order of the sausage biscuit for breakfast was more than I could eat. The coffee is good enough to drink black. Oh happiness! Oh joy!
   I don’t know why the Deli closed its seahorse doors five years back, but I do remember that we and many of our friends and neighbors were shattered by the loss. We missed the diner-style food and we missed seeing Bob Bernreuter and his family. His parents, John and Joan, who have since passed, were often around. Bob’s kids were there, too. Bob’s daughter Patty made the pies and cakes.

Breakfast at the Deli. It's tradition . . . again

Bob’s wife Iris was our son’s beloved fifth grade teacher and we called her (behind her back, of course) Mrs. Bird-eater. Once Bob went to San Francisco and donated a kidney to his uncle. I see Bob on his bicycle from time to time and he appears to be doing just fine with his remaining kidney. Bob has turned over the running of the Deli, which has been renamed “Bangla Deli” to a younger crew, led by Dewan Islam, a native of Bangladesh who worked in the Deli kitchen for 18 years prior to its closing. Dewan’s partner is Kazi, who promises to add to the selection of Indian dishes. Right now you can order chicken or beef curry as well as a number of other dishes. We don’t know anything about Indian food. Yet.

Margaret Russell and her Goddaughter Deanne celebrate Russell's first social security check and the re-opening of the Deli

    Another of the Deli’s most ardent fans, and frequent diners, is photographer Richard Watherwax. When I phoned to ask him for permission to use his photo of Essy, Kim and Bob, he said, “Why haven’t I seen you at the Deli? It’s been open for five days now!”
    Richard says the waitresses have described to him the hugely positive, and often sentimental, reactions locals are having at finding themselves dining at the Deli again.  It’s something wonderful from the past, once gone, now back: a resurrection.
   “They practically cry with joy,” Richard says. “This place has apparently been very important to a lot of people.”

Laura Butler with her grands

Our friend Laura Butler came to Key West for the first time in December, 1979. She and a girlfriend, desperate to escape the bitter northern cold, drove for as far as they could drive and found themselves at the Deli early one morning. The place was packed. They turned to leave. But John Bernreuter stopped them. A man sat alone, at a table for four. Laura, a New York City girl, watched in amazement as John politely asked the man if he would mind sharing his table.  Of course he didn't mind, the man said. Charmed, Laura vowed to herself then and there: I'm never leaving this place again. And for 25 years, she didn't.