The Canonical Penguin: Celebrating the Holidays Penguin Style - Dinner

We had a nice quiet Christmas dinner this week. One bad thing was that CollegeBoy’s girlfriend, MissNicole, was not here which made the house quieter. We missed her, the house seems emptier when she is not here, but that is a topic for another post. For this one I want to focus on the dinner traditions.

I come from an Italian family and anyone who does now knows exactly what holiday dinners are like. Mrsfabp talks about coming to my home for a holiday dinner and being shocked that there was pasta and meat and more in addition to the typical Thanksgiving turkey or Christmas ham. Well, welcome to the world of an Italian family celebrating the holidays. I can remember growing up, the sideboard groaning under the weight of the different foods, delicacies and Italian pastries and cookies. This was a celebration and it centered on the food we shared.

Some other traditions; we traded off the holidays, one at our home, the other at my uncle and aunt's home. We lived close, only a few blocks so the traveling was easy and we would spend the day smelling the smells and enjoying the company. One controversy I remember was the stuffing. My dad was from a German family so the dressing was apples and raisins and sweeter. The Italian side of the family had a much more savory stuffing with onions and celery and spices. I do regret not understanding the value of each as I grew up, partaking only the German style for many years until I got married.

Yes, we did have a kids table! When the families were all together, there could be 13 people, too many for a simple dining room, so the kitchen table was set up for 4 or 5 of the youngest, who could make all the noise they wanted without interfering with the main dining going on.

One final tradition note. Besides all the Italian pastries and cookies, there was always a selection of pies. This all by itself should answer the age old debate about pie vs. cake: when we celebrate the holidays, we serve pie – apple, pecan, pumpkin, whatever. Ever hear of a Christmas cake going over well? How about a Thanksgiving one? And don’t give me that cheese cake argument, that’s not a cake at all. Pie wins.

Nowadays, we try to do a lot of the cooking from scratch and enjoy the process. We go all out at Thanksgiving but are a bit more reserved at Christmas, but there is all the traditional foods. We don’t do the Italian pasta tradition, mainly because there is usually only 4-5 of us. We live so far away, we usually don’t get a lot of holiday dinner visitors. MissNicole really likes pasta however, perhaps we should add a small lasagna or stuffed shells with meatballs to the menu…

The Canonical Penguin: New Bikes for Christmas

When I was about 10 years old, all I wanted for Christmas was a new bike. That’s it, just a new bike. Before this I had always been the recipient of hand me down, junk yard recycled, fixed in the garage bike. And we used them a lot. Even though my mother would not let us ride off the block, we rode them every day so bikes were important.

I can remember asking for a new bike and my parents being somewhat receptive to the idea. I can remember them taking me down the street to the big kids toy store “Kiddie City” (yes, kiddie city!) to look around. They were a precursor of Toys R Us, a large department style store, in somewhat of a warehouse type setting that had many different departments. These included the hobby corner (with stamps and coins), models (cars, boats, tanks, you name it), rows and rows of games, dolls, and even some kids clothes. And in the middle of the store, near the rear entrance was two long rows of bikes. Shiny chrome, brilliant colors, real leather seats, just lined up for looking at, each with a large price card shaped price card attached to them with string.

If you read my posts regularly, you might remember this one about crashing new bikes along the bay but those were new bikes we had bought with our own money and was several years later. These Christmas bikes were the first new bikes we were to ever get. At the store my brother Mike and I “tried on” several varieties, settling on shiny black Royce Union, 3 speed beauties. Yes folks, three separate speeds. I remember being so excited, that the time to Christmas seemed to crawl. It got there however and we raced down the stairs to look under the tree on Christmas morning and…no bikes. NO BIKES! At this point we could not say anything to our parents, and it’s not like we didn’t get other presents, it was JUST NO BIKES…

After a while of striping ribbon and wrapping paper off of the usual assortment of sock, pajamas and the like, my dad told us to go down to the basement to get some cans of vegetables for that days big meal. This was a usual activity for us, to be sent down to the basement to get some cans of something that was stored on a row of shelves down there (in case of atomic bomb attack I guess), and we dutifully did as requested. When we got the cans upstairs, I can remember my parents having a strange look on their face and asking if we saw them. “Saw what?” we replied and we were sent down to the basement a second time, to look. There, right next to the cans of food, were two brand new black 3 speed bikes. How had were missed them? I guess we were too disappointed to notice and now we were too happy to care.

We took them out the basement stairs and rode them all afternoon. Thank goodness it was our turn to host Christmas dinner (more about that tradition in the next post).

About my Dad, an obituary

My dad passed away early Monday morning of complications related to dementia and congestive heart disease. My brother was with him when he died and reported that he was comfortable and pain free. I’d like to take a few minutes and tell you a little about him.

My dad was a depression baby, spending his early years in a close knit German neighborhood in College Point, Queens. The area was called “Five Corners” because 5 different roads met at the intersection that his family’s house sat near. Ironically, some 50 years after this I went to work for my future brother in law, in a wood shop less than 100 feet from this spot. My dad grew up in a small cottage that barely seemed to be able to hold the whole family that included 11 children, one whom died soon after birth and one who passed at the age of ten.

Three images stand out from my dad’s stories about his childhood. That he would chase after the coal delivery truck to pick up coal that fell off, that his first paying job was setting pins by hand in a local bowling alley for a nickel a game, and that he would bring a small lunch pail to the local tavern each night to get beer for his dad.

(My mom and dad)

After my dad finished high school, a feat for him, he enlisted in the armed services and served his country and then returned to Queens to marry my mother and raise a family. I was the first born of 5 children. My mother passed away suddenly when I was 15 and I remember my dad sheltering us as best as possible from all the commotion. One image I have in my mind from this time was about a year later, walking in the hallway upstairs past his bedroom and seeing him lying on his bed looking at a picture of my mother. That is an image of him I will never forget.

A few years later my dad started a relationship with a woman who lived in a nearby town. They seemed very happy together, seemed to enjoy each other’s support and company. They did not get married because they both had younger children and did not want to have them deal with the issues of blended families. She got cancer and died after a long illness. The thought of his losing two people in his life like this was more than anyone should have to handle, but he did.

Later, he started a relationship with another woman from the neighborhood. They were great together, having lots of fun, traveling, enjoying each other’s company. After they had been together for several years he was trying to reach her by phone but there was no answer and he went over to her apartment to find that she had died. At her funeral, I hugged my dad and told him I was so sorry for all of his losses but these words seemed so insufficient then and even more so now.

My dad worked for 25 years for the city in the Department of Sanitation, retired and then worked for 10 more for the federal government delivering mail in NYC. He worked hard every single day of his life until the dementia forced him to give up his home and move to an assisted living home on Long Island. After all those years of independence, this was a most disagreeable thing for him but he could not be trusted to take care of himself and needed more attention.

(my dad and sister)

When he retired he continued to keep busy, working with his hands. My dad enjoyed making things and repairing things. He worked on cars and bicycles and remodeled rooms and fixed things all the time. He was with me when we bought our first home and spend hours and hours helping me make repairs – putting in new windows on the porch, removing a door, painting the entire outside, wallpapering the inside, remodeling the bathroom. We lived 3 hours away but he would come to visit, enjoy playing with his new granddaughter and work on the house with me. This joy too was robbed from him in the end.

It seems so hollow to say he is in a better place now, but it is true. The last few years have been difficult as the dementia invaded and took over his life. He was always a happy and energetic soul and this was taken from him. He easily made friends and this was taken from him. He always had a story to tell but this was taken from him. Now he is taken from us. The last time he recognized me was almost 4 years ago at Easter time at a dinner at my sister’s house. He was having a good day and was enjoying himself and the attention he got. But as the day grew longer he had more and more trouble and he slipped away from us that day. At Christmas that year I saw him again and he was at the point that he no longer recognized any of us. It was difficult for him to be in a strange place, my brothers house, that he had spend hours and hours at doing repairs and visiting in the years before because he no longer recognized it. I was difficult for me to see him this way, because he was slipping away, was no longer the person I knew. I really needed to remember him as the strong, energetic man who was my father, not as the person dementia was making him. I missed him, even when I was with him. He is in a better place now. I chose to remember him that way.

(Dad and my sister at his 80th birthday)

One final note. There is no way that I can ever repay or thank my siblings enough for all the caring that they did for my dad. All of them, my brother Michael and his wife Joanne and my sisters Annette, Johanna and my brother Anthony. I lived so far from where my dad was yet they always kept me updated about how he was doing and what was going on for him. Michael especially was so strong throughout this whole ordeal. They were the one who told my dad he had to leave his home and move to the assisted living home, they helped him look at places, they cleared out his home and moved his belongings, they sold his house, they took him to his doctor appointments, they looked out for him and they were there when he died. There are not enough words that I can say in gratitude to them. They made sure he was comfortable and taken care of right to the end. They are all blessed and I am honored to say thank you deeply for all they have done.

The Canonical Penguin: Celebrating the Holidays, Trimming the Tree

In a previous post I talked about some of the holiday traditions of my own childhood and of our time in New England. So in this post, I want to focus on the decoration of the tree.

I mentioned that in my family the tree was put up by Santa on Christmas Eve. I remember that it had large bulb lights, and that flashing ones were present occasionally. There also was a set of bubbler lights, colorful base with pencil thin tube of water that bubbled due to the heat of the bulb. These were always my favorites. They must have been a German tradition because I saw them on my dad’s family trees but not any on the Italian side of the family. Later on my dad went through a matching decoration phase, simultaneously with his artificial tree phase. First we went to all white lights (which I like) and all matching silk balls (which I hated). He did this because he was the ultimate bargain shopper and right after Christmas, went to the stores to stock up on the next years decorations. This gave us an almost department store look. One time I remember my dad tried angel hair on the tree, but he scratched for days after so no more angel hair EVA! Finally our tree had tinsel, put on one or two strands at a time for the proper effect.

On the New England front, our tree traditions kind of make me feel all Norman Rockwell inside. We would go out and cut our own tree, up until I had my BKA and can’t get around as well as I used to. We still pick out a real tree every year. We go smaller now but that is ok too. The decorations are ones we have made or bought ourselves over the years, many representative of a place or time or event. There are also a few old ones from our growing up families and some mindful of the ones we had as kids. No tinsel either – we use wooden cranberry strings and strands of little kid toys for the garland. Every year, after the decorating is done, we step back and say that it’s a great tree, one of the best ever and enjoy the real tree smell for days. We don’t decorate as much as we did in the past but we have come to realize that the family feelings come from each other not some plastic elf or window candle.

As for putting the tree up, we never got into putting it up too early. Now we wait for CollegeBoy to get home from school to go get it and put it up. I know lots of people get so very stressed during the holidays but we seem to have been able to just enjoy it for the good family feelings that spring from it.

(Not our baby Jesus but an incredible...)

One tradition we have, that has also caused its fair amount of tears is the placement of the Baby Jesus. This was one of my wife’s family traditions, where the youngest member of the household places a Baby Jesus on the boughs of the tree. Our first Christmas together I got to do it as I am younger than Mrsfabp (and I never let her forget that). But after that MillieJupiter got to place it 4 years in a row. Then CollegeBoy was born and it was his deal. Needless to say, MJ had a bit of trouble with this continuing interference of the new kid on the block. Sometimes I am surprised we didn’t find CB stuffed in a closet or something after another slight felt by MJ. But we got through it and now continue to do this each year. This year, MissNicole, CB’s girlfriend, who is really a member of the family will put it on the tree. Hopefully our kids will continue the tradition. Like reading the bible story of Jesus’ birth, it is a way of remembering values when most people are trying to decide iPad or iPod.

This weekend, we will go get a tree and put it up. We’ll untangle the lights, look through the boxes of ornaments for our favorites to put on the tree. I’ll find the little wool cap ornament, the penguins on ice ones, the glass light covers, the snow blower and all the rest. We’ll string the garland and then step back and say that it is one of the best trees ever. We’ll sip hot cocoa or egg nog and eat some cheese and crackers and bask in the glow of our Christmas.

A Little Bit of Excitement

CollegeBoy turned me onto Google reader and the wonderful world of RSS feeds a couple of years ago. He is always coming up with websites and blogs for me to look at. One of those sites was a blog called “Seth Curry Saves Duke”> Written by someone not named Seth Curry, it is a fans blog about mostly three teams – NY Yankees baseball, occasionally NY Giants football and Duke University College Sports, most specifically Duke basketball. This happens to be some of my very favorite teams and after reading a couple of entries I was hooked. It is a fan’s fan account of the goings on in the sports world, told with the fanaticism only a college student could muster. And it was funny. So for the last year or more, I have been a SCSD fan.

A few months ago the writer, mentioned doing a contest called “Pick Six” where six teams pick six sports winners for six weeks with the top two advancing to the next round with four new challengers. I enthusiastically sent in an email asking to be a part but alas, they were already full. However CollegeBoy independently had made contact and was working his way into the third round. Being his father, “I am your father!” I wormed my way onto his “team” to make a go of this. We recently heard that we are IN! The second round finished this past weekend and then the next round begins this week.

CollegeBoy and I collaborated on an opening statement to tell the millions of SCSD readers who we are and give them a taste of what they are about to experience. Following is the write up we did. I will provide links to the website whenever we are mentioned and also provide some insight to the picking and writing process that we engage in. Wish us luck!

Our SCSD introduction to the blogging world…
Our statement is about 2/3 down the page under the heading Dylan and Patrick...

On the Eve of Depression

This post is about my job and all the feelings I am experiencing right now. I generally do not talk about it too much, it’s my job but recent events and the overall plan at the place has me slipping downward and I am hopeful writing about it will help put it into a perspective.


(Monson State Hospital for Epileptics, 1911)

I am a social worker at a state facility for people who are developmentally challenged and have epilepsy. Historically the facility is over 130 years old, having started as a poor farm for the indigent from Boston but developing over the years as a state hospital and then Developmental Center for this current population. I started working here in 1983, just beginning my 28th year a couple of weeks ago. When I began here there were about 700 residents in some 15 buildings and about 1600 staff. In December 2009 we were informed that the state was going to close 4 of the 5 facilities for this general population over the coming three years. Now, with 19 months left we are down to 90 people and 300 staff. Just 2 buildings. If all goes according to plans, in the next 3 months, an additional 18 people will be moved, along with about 50 of the staff. This means our population will be down under 75.


(Simon Building, my first office space in 1983, picture about 1970)

Along the way it has been hard to say goodbye to the individuals and their families, some of which I have worked with for more that 25 years. But it is more than that because people have left before – moved or died. Even changes in caseload meant that families I have had a relationship with changes on a regular basis. But this is different as there is a sense of finality to it.

It first became noticeable soon after the closure announcement. People were down, worried about their jobs, worried about the people who lived here. How would they handle the change after living here so long? Many of the individuals on my caseload have been institutionalized for 60 years or more. They have severe physical and developmental handicaps. How would their families handle this? They have felt a sense of security about the health and safety of their family members for all those years. I spent hours on the telephone speaking with dozens of family members, reassuring them, crying with them, helping them plan and look at options. Helping them make one of the most difficult decisions they might ever make about their loved one. This has been a difficult time for all involved, including me.

More recently two things have happened that have hammered home these points. The first was in early October, our annual Family Day. We have had about 13 of them and I had gone to all but one, which I missed when I lost my leg. It has always been a time of connecting and happiness, often being the only time I might see a person that I talked to regularly on the phone. They always went well. I did not attend this year, I was at a wedding on Long Island and had to miss it. When I talked to staff and family members afterward, everyone commented on the fact that it seemed subdued, that there was little joy there. There was much sadness over speculation that this might be the last one we have. By next October, our population could be about 50 residents or less. Not much for a party.


(Closed Building, current picture)

The other event was more staff-centric. This week we had the annual Employee Christmas Buffet. In my 28 years there have been 27, one being cancelled due to budgetary issues about 10 years ago. I remember when the line for the buffet went out the door and outside of the auditorium where it is held. On this day there were no lines, plenty of empty tables and no waiting. No spirit either. There was a sense of doom and gloom about. There was plenty of speculation that this could be the last one. For the record, the vegetable lasagna was good and the pie, very good. A good time was not had by all.

The Canonical Penguin: Celebrating the Holidays, Penguin style

As we wind down the time we live in Massachusetts and excitedly anticipate life in New Mexico, I find myself contemplating all sorts of memories. The memories of my own kids growing up, triggers other memories - my own growing up in NYC and seeing how life has changed. Holidays go a long way to triggering this memory cascade and since Christmas is the most “holiday” of holidays, it accomplishes this in even more glorious fashion.


(Not our tree but an incredible simulation)

When I was growing up, Santa put up the tree on Christmas Eve, after all the kids went to bed. That night, nothing was there. It mysteriously appeared on Christmas morning, fully decorated with wrapped presents surrounding it. And with 5 kids, there was a lot of surrounding. It still amazes me that we did not have a Christmas Eve tradition and that my parents put the tree up, decorated it and wrapped the presents all in the evening after we went to bed. One very nice thing that Mrsfabp has brought to holiday tradition is some Christmas Eve festivities. We now read the Night Before Christmas and the Birth of Jesus from the Bible and while listening to some holiday music and sipping some egg-nog or warm cider and open a small gift that night. Our kids have really enjoyed this and it is something that we continue to this day. As we are all sitting around that night it just gives me the warmest feeling to know that this is a tradition that will continue on.

As for the tree, I was shocked when we moved to New England and saw how early people put up their tress. Coming from a house where the tree went up so late, by choice, it was a eye opener to see the trees going up right after Thanksgiving. In Mrsfabp’s family I believe the tree went up a bit before Christmas but not weeks and weeks before. I can remember one year going to my uncle’s house the year they got an artificial tree, a real beauty from Macy’s, and he was putting it up several days before Christmas Day, and I was positively scandalized by it going up early.

Now, about the tree itself. We always had a real tree. We had neighbors who were in landscaping and they would always give my dad a deal on a tree. One year they let us sell trees one night when they had some other things to attend to. One year we ran some extension cords for them for extra lights and got the tree for free. Then my uncle got a fake tree and the next year it seems we had one. This was not a keeping up with the Jones’ type thing. I think my parents saw the ease that the fake tree went up and came down without the “vacuuming of the needles” tradition. This went on for several years until one year my sister Jo, demanded we get a real tree again. I was away at college but remember walking into the house the first time with the real tree again and smelling the balsam. Thank you Jo for getting us back on the right track.


(Not our tree farm but an incredible simulation)

In our house we have always had a real tree and when the kids were younger, we cut it down our selves. We would go to a local place and tramp through the woods to find the perfect tree. I can remember several episodes of tears when a particular favorite was not chosen but I think that there are no real bad memories on MillieJupiter’s part about this, Right?

(next up, decorating the tree traditions…)