b4 tomorrow when everyone back there’s doing millie’stommy’s victory dance, thought i’d post four hometown vids friends forwarded….#2 and 3 below are for you, nana
4–https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3hN_gFvz5Y **(cute parody, but only if you’ve lived it and are home)
3–http://www.ispot.tv/ad/7XXf/godaddy-super-bowl-2015-journey-home   **(withdrawn superbowl, bud-satire commercial from marty’s folks.)
2–https://video.search.yahoo.com/…/play;_ylt=A2KIo9TdeM1UHnIA… **(real accents)
1–https://search.yahoo.com/yhs/search… **(filthy, raunchy, repugnant, and drop-dead hilarious boston film trailer)
go pats

holidays

flying cross country,

Phinnie on my lap.

doesn’t get much better than this,

‘cept

his little green sock sticking out below the blanket

matches my Celtics sweatshirt

crossover dribble teething wets em both

a sunset (or an axe murderer) is fascinating to a three month old’s eyes,

‘cept

shrieks of joy,

head bobs of glee,

eyes wide with wonder,

My God, he is made for you,

‘cept you’re not here.

looking for xmas cards Sunday, found Phyl’s stash which illustrates her humor perfectly.

yah, everyone thinks their grandchildren are beautiful, but this is Phyllis’…..cannot post stunning stills(yet), but can post Paige’s first commercial.           https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HsgMVHQejM

One of my favorite Phyllis moments would reoccur, in this form….if I were watching Jerry or Maury…..Phyl would walk by the family room and say, “Turn that off!  How can you watch that disgusting stuff?  Those people are sick!”  Two minutes later, she’d yell to me from the kitchen,  “Did she say she made love to all three of them?

She loved Regis Philbin and would often retell that morning’s story of his latest faux pas.  It’d take her five minutes to tell, because she’d be intermittently overcome to tears by hysterical laughter.  When she’d finish, I’d be staring politely, and inevitably, she’d say.”You’re no fun!“

As everyone, Phyllis had her forever-faves.  In our 41 years, she only bought Toyota Corona and its later incarnation, Camry;  lobster, no butter;  Diet Coke, no ice;  kugel, no raisins;  eggs, only drippy;  tamales, not tacos;  Kit-Kat, not Twix; mint chip or pumpkin desserts; and only Fancy Feast for the damn cats.  Stuck with the same idiot husband too.

Jody’s cat Webster was a gift from “Star Search”.  We inherited Webby when Jody moved.  Webby, a male, bullied the female cats, and Phyllis would often lecture Webby in anger.  “Leave those kitties alone. You’re the Devil with those evil eyes.   I don’t like you!”  Two minutes later, she’d feel bad, hug, and cuddle him.  “I love you, Webby the bad boy.”  Once Webby swallowed something in the night, and Phyl paid $1200 at 4 a.m. to make sure he was OK.

Phyllis nearly always fell asleep and arose before me.  She’d say, “I’m a morning person.  You’re not.”  She’d illustrate it by invoking the most notorious of our marriage moments: a moment i do not remember, but she never let me forget.  She was pregnant with our first child Jody.  She was bent over the toilet wretching.  I was in bed sleeping.   i guess i yelled, “Can’t you throw up a little quieter?”

Phyl loved to tell that one.  If you knew Phyllis, you’ve heard that story.   And there are probably a bazillion strangers in supermarket lines, doctors’ waiting rooms, airport lounges, and teacher meetings that have heard it too.

One of the more beautiful tableaux and moments I desperately ache for is bookmarking and closing the open book that was resting on the sleeping chest of the most beautiful girl in the world, and kissing her on the forehead.    Thousands of nights.

Here’s Phyllis’ Halloween dynamite-cute grandkids.  Eight month-old Paige as Pooh, One month-old Phinn as Lex Luthor.  Both pix elicit enduring moments we shared.

bookmemories1

Jen  said Phyllis would have loved Paige in this costume. She’s so right.  This picture brought back even more there’s-only-one-phyllis memories. One of the most  salient….Eeyore.

As noted before, Phyl was always a librarian; reading and sharing her reading.  As a classroom teacher, long before her Library Credential, she earned one of the first five (alphabetically the very first one) State of California Reading Specialist Credentials.

Phyllis read more than anyone i’ve met.   She always had that pile of books-to-read beside our bed.  Always.  It was 10-15 books when we met and 10-15 books when we lost her.

In-between, she had two unusual only-Phyllis habits.  1–If it were a mystery, she would read the end first.  Only Myphyllis.  2–How many ever books the author had written, she would try to read them all, before tackling the next set.   The gifts from me she most appreciated (and didn’t return) were the authors’ rare books she hadn’t read.  i remember how excited she was when i’d find one of Agatha Christie’s pseudonym Mary Westmacott‘s or finally bought her the first edition of Theodore Geisel’s Gerald McBoing Boing.

In bed at night, i’d be doing schoolwork or watching tv, and she’d be beside me, reading.  Often, because i’m an idiot, the only time i’d take notice is when she’d laugh.  And Phyllis laughed with her whole being.   It began far within and ended with her fervently rocking back and forth, crying in joy.  The unquestionably number one progenitor of that joy was Eeyore. Eeyore is A.A. Milne’s dumb, droll donkey in Pooh Bear, the only books i remember her reading and rereading.  Like Huck Finn, Honey Bunch, Norton, and Stephanie Plum, Eeyore was one of her absolute favorite characters.  Certainly her funniest.  So many times, she’d be suddenly be (in her Boston terms, going mental) hysterically laughing and seesawing in bed, excitedly repeating whichever of Eeyore’s lines had just set her off the deep end.

Indelible.  Precious.  Phyllis.

next: superman

One of our classic who-knows-better’s was the Acorn vacation pix.  We have a small, local, weekly newspaper called the Acorn or Agoura Acorn.  Each summer, they’d publish a few pictures of locals reading the Acorn in vacation spots.  Phyl had always wanted to send in a  picture that was chosen.

Of her favorite authors, Phyl knew Ray Bradbury, and met Garrison Keillior, Sue Grafton, Elie Wiesel. and Peter Gethers. Though she’s probably with him now, she couldn’t meet her very favorite, the author of Huckleberry Finn, Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain, for obvious reasons.  So she read books about him, attended plays about him, and we visited his home and resting place.

Phyllis sat in his rocking chair (pic #1) and wanted me to send in her literary Acorn pic (#2).

i. on the other hand, thought, if we sent in something more clever, they’d have to pick us.  So Adam read the Acorn to Mark Twain (pic #3), and, from the grave, Mark Twain read it himself. (pics # 4,5,6).  And those were the ones I sent in.

Of course, Phyl was, as always, right.  The Acorn ingrates chose not to choose my clever photos, “because it’s a family newspaper.”

(As my dad often said, “de gustibus non disputandum est”.  After 4 wasted years of Latin, I  learned that meant “no accounting for taste” or “to each his own”, which, in turn, accounts for 4 wasted years of Latin, pix #3-6, and our 41 years of who-knows-better’s)

Back in the realm of who-knows-better, Phyl had Kris take the Acorn pic when they went to Alaska.  I was not around.  It was published, of course.

Phyllis read.  I found a second grade composition wherein her ‘favorite thing’ was to sit on the Winthrop Library floor, amidst the stacks, reading.  That never changed.

Anyone in 1972 New England, knew THE ticket was Bobby Orr and the Big Bad Bruins. I was in line for 12 hours just to get ‘em.  While everyone in Boston Garden was standing, jumping up and down, going absolutely nuts, Phyllis would sit, quietly reading her Agatha Christies.  It’s Boston, so both friends and strangers would remark on it.  But it was funny, because she was so stunningly beautiful, it was always versions of  “We’d say why do you waste a ticket on her, but we see why.”

Every night there was a pile of ‘to-read’ books aside our bed.  She taught English, ESL, and Reading, but was happiest as a librarian, sharing her love of books, especially her favorites;  Agatha Christie, Richard Peck, Shirley Jackson, Ray Bradbury, Elie Wiesel, Peter Getthers, Ernest Hemingway, Theodore Geisel, Sue Grafton, Garrison Keillior.  At the very top was Samuel Clemens, aka Mark Twain. And her favorite book to share was Huckleberry Finn.  Tracy and Jody chose that name to honor Phyl.