Autumn Leaves

The first rendition I ever heard of "Autumn Leaves" was by Barbra Streisand from her album "Je m'appelle Barbra" . I was just a kid - maybe 7 or 8 years old. I remember staring at the album cover and thinking how odd Streisand looked.  And, what was with those nails?!

We had a "hi-fi" that was a major piece of furniture in the living room. You'd lift the lid, look down onto the controls and place the record onto the turntable. As soon as I learned how to pick up the stylus/ arm and carefully place the needle on the groove of the LP (without scratching) I was allowed to use it. I would sit on the couch and listen to my parent's albums for hours.... staring at the album cover, flipping it to the back, and reading the sleeve for more information.

I know this scene was repeated by kids all over North America.

.

Even today I can clearly recall Herb Albert's whip cream laden babe (scandalous at the time), the Carpenters sitting side by side uncomfortably on a rock ( I couldn't figure out why Karen didn't line her dress), and a crazy calypso album (Yellow Bird was my dad's favorite song after a trip to Nassau).  After I had learned the words, I would get an uncooked piece of spaghetti, put it to my mouth like a microphone, and belt out the tunes on the records. That high fi created a sound stage for me. I really thought I could mimic Barbra perfectly on 'Free Again'. Lucky Lucky ME AGAIN!!!
Wow, the memory of that embarrasses me to this day.

When Fall comes and the leaves whip down the streets, I can't help but hear Barbra (and my 7 year old voice) in my head.

Last night, Bill and I went for a quick walk through the neighborhood. Most of our neighbors had already moved their leaves to the curb. I had not completed this task yet. Even though the weather this weekend was perfect, I just didn't have the time to rake. Yes, I have a blower that my friend Randy gave me, but I HATE the noise. It's absolutely deafening and I think a huge intrusion into the lives of my neighbors. So, I rake.
But, not this weekend.

As we approached our house, I said to Bill, "Man! Look at those leaves".
"Don't you pay someone to take care of them?" Bill queried.
I looked at him. This is a typical Bill remark. He doesn't take care of any household related items (except cooking and groceries) and is virtually blind to anything that occurs in and around the house (this includes rearranging furniture, anything in the garden, water lines, heating ducts, downspouts, flooding, major repairs.. you get the picture).
"No, Bill - I rake the leaves", I responded.
"Do you want me to do them?" he asked. "I could stay home tomorrow and go in at 10:00 a.m."
I laughed.
If you think you can rake all those leaves by 10 a.m. -  go for it!

As I backed out of the driveway this morning, I noticed that the leaves were still there.

Automatically, the record needle in my brain found the groove line where Barbra belted out "But, I miss you most of all, my darling.... when autumn leaves start to fall".

To Sir (Bill) with Love

 I remember when I was in high school I  took one of those 'career tests' - I believe it was called the Kuder Preference Test. The results indicated that I should either be a lawyer, an actor or a teacher. Being rebellious, I chose to study biology after high school.  Those four years of university may have got me slightly off track, but I firmly believe that I had to get it out of my system. It was important for me to prove that I could study the sciences and do well. 

Of course, today I am a lawyer, and I spend a  portion of my time teaching our managers - albeit over the phone using WebEx, but teaching nonetheless. Dr. Kuder was right - I really enjoy practicing law and teaching.  Not so sure about the acting part, though.

Bill has been teaching for eons - I think over 30 years in the management school at University of Buffalo and a bunch of years at UB's Law School. He's masterful. For one thing, he knows the material cold. For another he's got memory that rivals anyone I know. But, mostly it's his depth and breadth of knowledge that makes him special. And, the students can tell right away that he's 'one of a kind'.

Teaching at night presents unique problems - mostly having to do with keeping the students engaged and awake. It's important to keep the lecture lively. I started teaching a evening class to some Human Resource professionals last night at Empire State College. It's kind of involved as to why I'm teaching this, but I'm really glad that I had the opportunity.

As I drove to class, I started wrestling with self doubt. Did I make enough notes to myself; did I cover the chapter thoroughly; should I have prepared more questions?  So, as I drove down the 33 I called Bill - because I  knew he would PUMP ME UP! And he did. He gave me the necessary pep talk and made me feel better. He should probably teach other husbands how to do that. I am so lucky that he's ALWAYS in my corner. ALWAYS!

I was fairly confident about the material but I didn't have a good grasp of how long it would take me to get through it. Between my fast talking and my underestimation, we finished 40 minutes early. I don't think the class had a problem with that. 

I'm ashamed to admit that I enjoyed teaching the class. I liked being 'on stage' and I loved when I could make the students laugh.  Come to think of it, maybe Kuder was three for three.

Love across the miles

It's raining in Buffalo. I was awake at 5:30 a.m. and could feel the cool hand of depression reaching through the windows. I looked over at Bill (who was sound asleep) and cursed my overactive brain. Who needs sleep when you can lie in bed and beat yourself up with the "would've, could've, should've"  debates?

I dragged myself out of bed and decided today I would dress in black (OK - that's pretty normal - I have a lot of black clothes).

Getting into the car to make my short trip to work I spied a  CD that Bill had found and left on the passenger seat.

I had forgotten about this home made CD. Will had burned it for me when he was still in high school. It contains a lot of current upbeat music that he was listening to at the time, as well as some David Bowie and Queen.


OK - one look at the disc and my mood elevated - not so much for the music it contained, but for the fact that Will had made it for me. You can actually feel the enthusiasm in the writing on the face of the disc. (PS - I'm "MamS" to Will).

Will. He is one of a kind. LOVE HIM TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH.

Although he is miles away he lifted my spirits and my heart! THANKS, WILL.

Let me know if you're free...

Do you feel over-scheduled? Given that we are approaching the 'holiday season' I'm guessing that question is rhetorical for most.  

Lately, my outlook calendar is running my life. I have to check it before I commit to ANYTHING. And, God help me if I haven't "synced" my phone with my laptop calendar - I'll end up double booking something using my phone calendar. Which reminds me... I should do that sync thing. Pause.

OK , that process took way longer than I thought. Apparently, I also had to update my phone (for 20 minutes) to software version 5. WHATEVER.

Anyway, the problems multiply when Bill updates me about his schedule and merely TELLS me rather than emailing me the date(s) and having me accept it into my calendar. I cannot tell you the number of times he has told me about his (1) overnight business trips (2) gigs (3) after hours meetings (4) changes to his workout routine (4) golfing outings etc. and I've completely blanked. When I innocently ask him where he's been ...the look he gives me is withering.

I've been blaming my poor memory on those biological changes that inevitably sap some women of their capabilities. But, you know what? I'm sick of that excuse. However, I refuse to just succumb to admitting my brain is mushy. I need a real answer.

Perhaps the reason I can't keep track of my schedule is because I'm just too damn busy. I cannot juggle my calendar with my husband's AND keep track of what's going on in my mother's, daughter's and son's life, too. And truthfully, I barely keep track of those three.

Perhaps I should stop comparing my memory powers to Bill's superhuman ability. To those of you who know Bill, you understand that it's just not a fair fight. He's been playing memory games since he was an infant. That section of his brain that harbors all those dates/names/historical facts is a finely tuned muscle. And, his short term memory is just as well developed.

Scarier still is the possibility that my computer has usurped my abilities to keep track of my life and that by relegating this duty to some software I've effectively stopped using my 'calendar muscle' in my brain. I think that muscle must be drinking martinis in the hippocampus. I have created my own small HAL in my outlook calendar.

If any of you out there in cyber world can help me get control back, please write me your comments. Better yet, if you sympathize, I probably would rather hear that!

Getting to know your cashier

Bill and I have been having WILD luck with checkout cashiers lately.

He was excited to tell me that Kohl's now will give him some huge percentage off just for being 60 years old. He has never shopped at Kohl's but, was excited nevertheless. Yesterday he explained how his double coupons, Tops Bonus Card and buy one/get ones ("bogos") at Tops Market added up to AN INSANE amount of savings. And, the checkout guy gave him some extra type of doubling points on some pasta. The transaction he described was so complicated, I stopped listening. But, he was really wound up and went searching for the receipt for proof. He told me that if you make friends with the cashiers, they will often do you a good turn.

He's right. When I was shopping at Publix last weekend for my mum in Florida, the checkout lady and I exchanged some pleasantries and smiles. She stopped scanning my items at one point and said:

"Oops - you're buying the organic salad - I've got a $2.00 coupon you'll want". And, she waved her scanning wand over the coupon hiding behind her cash register. She winked at me while she did it.

I like to engage checkout people in conversation. Usually, I can gauge whether the person scanning my newly purchased items wants to be bothered trading bon mots with me. I don't press it if they are distracted or clearly cannot do two things at once. However, yesterday  I ran into a young woman who appreciated the value of small talk.

I didn't realize at first that she was "in training". Then,  I noticed her manager was leaning over the cash register as we commenced our (complicated) transaction. The "manager" couldn't have been more than 18 months older than the trainee. In fact, there was no indication that the trainee was a trainee, other than the lurking presence of this other employee.

Anyway, it was a complicated transaction because (1)  I was at DSW where the sheer number of shoes is overwhelming; (2)  I was returning some shoes; (3) I was using a gift card - thanks Jax; and (4) I also had a coupon. OH! and Emma was with me. She was the reason I was returning those shoes. She told me they were ugly and that she wouldn't be seen with me if I ever put them on my feet. I was explaining this as my reason for the return with the young trainee. I could tell right away that she was 'with it'. She got my jokes and knew that I was a bit of a kidder. Emma and I had a running dialogue about shoes and money and fashion while the trainee was examining the wear on the shoe (there wasn't any) and making sure they were both the same size (they were).

Every so often the trainee would interject a comment indicating that she was following our conversation. When she scanned the replacement shoes she told me they were "much cuter" and that I was not making a mistake.

When she did the final total, she started to complain that she couldn't see the amount of change she owed. (I was, for once, using CASH!). For a micro second, I sensed she was trying to do the calculation in her head.

So, I said in a joking manner:
"You don't need the computer to do the calculation since you're a math major."

She stopped in her tracks.
She looked up at me quizzically. "How did you know I was a math major".

I immediately formed a V with my index and middle finger pointed towards my eyes and then to hers. "I'm psychic, I KNOW you".

She completed the rest of  the transaction in silence.

As I gathered my bags, I leaned in and asked her:
"Are you really a math major?"  (I wasn't really sure. It WAS possible that she was goofing on ME!)
She nodded her head.  "How did you know?"
"I didn't. I just knew you were smart".

As she put my purchases in the bag she smiled and said:
"ENJOY YOUR CUTE NEW SHOES"  At the same time, her manager mumbled :
"Strangest transaction of the day"

Next time I go to DSW I will look for that trainee and line up in her line. Chances are, she'll be managing the place!

Come fly with me

I listen to JazzFM on my car radio. Since WBFO screwed up the format, my number one, "go-to" station is JazzFM 91.1.  It's a great jazz station broadcasted out of Toronto. Not only do I get international news (courtesy BBC radio) from a woman with a clipped  British accent at 8 a.m., I also get the weather report for Toronto AND Buffalo. The radio station has figured out that a number of us in Buffalo have left BFO because of the lack of jazz content. The hosts always do a shout out to Buffalonians. Also, the traffic report makes me feel closer to our Emma (who is living in Toronto). Luckily, she rarely has to deal with the Gardiner Expressway jams or the 401 headaches or the Don Vally shut downs on her morning commute. But, I enjoy visualizing those roadways as I fly down Main Street to work ... getting from door to door in 15 minutes.

Anyway, there is always a good chance that during my drive time, the morning host on JazzFM will play a Frank Sinatra song.  And today, he did not disappoint. The classic Come Fly with Me was played at 8:10.  Far Bombay, Peru, Acapulco Bay- I was there! What a great way to start the day. My fingers were clicking as I sang along with Frank. Totally changed my mood!

Coincidentally, Bill was on his way to the airport this morning. Just a quick trip in and out of NYC - nothing as romantic as "llama land". Kind of a coincidence. I think of Bill every time I hear Frank sing. He loves Frank as much as I do. 

But, it was not always so.

Years ago, when we were first married, Frank came to Western New York. Bill got tickets and excitedly told me we were going. I looked at him like he was crazy. I was 27 years old . Frank was a hack! Washed up! For OLD people. I laughed at him.

He took my mother.

WHAT A MORON I was!  I'm still kicking myself. But, I don't kick hard because at least my mother had the benefit of great seats and the company of a fellow Frank aficionado. She ADORED  it. Maybe that was the start of her appreciation for Bill. And, he didn't even have to feed her.

Counting Crows

There's a crow dying in my backyard.

I saw him yesterday standing for a really long time in the waterfall of our small pond. His back was to me and he was clearly not "on alert" as crows usually are. He didn't make a sound. But he did take a few sips of water.

Later, I saw him sitting on the grass by the fading Rose of Sharon. He sat very, very still. I had been in the back garden all day yesterday. The sun was glorious and mum and I decided to read outside. I took the NY Times outside and piled it under my lawnchair. I had to go inside mid afternoon to start Sunday dinner. Yes, I cooked! During football season, I make Sunday dinner because Bill is at the Bill's game.

When I came back outside, the pages had scattered across the lawn. I was afraid to go and pick them up because the crow was sitting close by (the travel section). Tentatively, I tip-toed towards the newspaper and picked up the pieces that were a 'safe' distance from the crow. He didn't flinch.

Crows are fascinating. Fascinating and creepy at the same time. You can feel their intelligence when they look right at you. And, I remember from Biology class that they are considered to be one of the more advanced creatures - brain wise. Particularly because they have a complex social system.

Where I work, there is a line of deciduous and evergreen trees that separates the parking lot from the backyard of a Oakland Street neighbor. At dusk, the crows in the neighborhood all congregate in those trees and have a large conference. I think about them a lot. I see them converge just before I pack up my things to go home and hear them talking when I get into my car. Whatever they're saying to each other, I'm sure it's very important because this conference is repeated night after night.

Anyway, the old, dying crow in my backyard is probably really smart. I think he picked my backyard for his demise because of the new plants I just put in. It's colorful, cheery and  inviting  -  clearly a lovely place to take your last breaths.

I hope he's still there when I get home tonight.