About Me

And Then I Was Born…

Four Months' Report

As the first born, my mom went all out to document my every moment. (My younger sisters enjoyed more anonymity.) Here's her first six months' report.

My Baby Book

That my mom put so much minutiae regarding my infancy into my Baby Book, and hung on to it for some six decades, for me to recieve…well, it just seems like there's so reason to preserve what she wrote indefinitely. (Internet, don't fail me now!)

My First Sibling

That Time We Moved To Garfield

The White Dream

Sometime before my third year, something happened that I remember, though out of context. That is, it happened, and I remember it too clearly to be a dream; but I have no lead-in memory and no lead-out memory.

Visiting Aunt Gene

My dad's youngest sister, Gene McGirr, lived in Towaco, New Jersey. When my sister was about six months old, we went to visit. It was pretty cold, but I had my snowsuit.

My Dad, The Bowler

Bowling was Dad's sport. He belonged to a league and was very proud of his "unofficial" perfect game. (That's where one gets a score of 300. It was unofficial because it didn't happen during league play.)

Louise Is Born

Grandma Johnson

After the birth of my sister, Louise, a person known as Grandma Johnson came into our lives. She was a woman from "the old country" (Sweden) whose daughter-in-law had thrown her out of the house for some inadequately-explored reason. My dad, with the soft heart I've inherited, took her into our home with the idea that she could help my mother care for their growing brood of children.

Dorothy Gene Is Born

The McGraws Visit

My dad's youngest sister, Gene McGirr, had an adult daughter with a husband and a child of their own, my cousin Mike. (Since I was very young, I pronounced that "co'n Mike", which my mom continued to call him even after I was grown and had kids of my own.

The Toy Box

My father had given me an antique sailor's trunk, with the year 1911 carved into it, to use as a toy box. I had it in my room and it was pretty well packed with Lincoln Logs, model train pieces, stuffed animals, and the like.

A Death In The Family

The Gift Of Music

My father loved music, and one of the first things he got me was a wind-up, "portable" phonograph. That was followed by an electric combination record player and radio, and then an RCA player for the new 45-RPM records.

Blizzard

Now, I had done this before. Forbidden to cross the street, no one had told me I couldn't go all the way around the block. One by one, I had knocked on the neighbors' doors and asked them if they had a record player and, if so, could I see it? Most had invited me in, given me cookies and milk, and allowed me to choose a record to listen to. In this way, I had discovered there were such things as automatic record changers, and long-playing records that rotated incredibly slowly but played beautifully.

Mysterious Visitor

It was weeks later, and I had been put to bed on a normal, uneventful, night. However, I awoke in terror to find my room lit by a strange, blue light that glowed from the living room visible through my open door. Between the door and my bed, clearly silhouetted in the doorway, was a tall, angular figure, hooded and gray. To me, it looked like a statue; so I thought the Blessed Virgin was in my bedroom…and it did not belong there. I was terrified, and tried to scream for Mom—only to discover I was also paralyzed.

Mommy's Little Helper

I put the four items into the sink—I had to stand on a chair to reach it—but what I really wanted to do was mix cleaning products. So I got the egg beater and pitcher, half-filled it with warm water, and started adding every thing I could find: Surf, Spic 'n Span, hand soap; I even poured in a little shampoo from the bathroom. I then used the egg beater to blend it all to a nice, frothy, consistency.

That Time I Ran Away

My father took me for a walk, one day, and we reached the top of a hill just as the sun was setting. I had asked where Disneyland was, and my father pointed in the direction of the setting sun. Of course, he meant "west" but I thought he meant, just over the next hill.

Meet The Galluchios

By midsummer 1956, I was starting to get sophisticated, in that I felt I understood the world I lived in. I had toys that I used in specific ways (for example, taking apart and reassembling my record player), I had friends. I was looking forward to starting kindergarten in the fall, though I didn't really know what fall was or, for that matter, kindergarten.

Kindergarten

Christmas, 1956

As the year drew to an end it grew cold and snow fell on the ground. When we wanted to go out Mommy bundled us up in garments called "snowsuits" that were basically full body armor filled with down. They were supposed to keep the cold out; I believe they would have stopped an AK-47 slug as well. When they were on, every part of our bodies was covered, even our mouths, thanks to the woolen scarf that had been wrapped around us prior to the enveloping by the suit. Then came mittens (which prevented us from using our fingers) and rubber boots (which just about prevented us from walking). Once we'd been safely insulated, Mommy would open the door and allow us to go outside.

First Grade

That Time We Moved To Vermont

My folks waited until school was out for the summer, then packed us into the Studebaker, and headed North to a century-old house in Victory, Vermont. At 7, I had no idea where Vermont was or even what it was, much less why we were going. All questions were answered with, "You'll see."

Hunting For The Spring

Before Dad put the water tank in my room, every now and then the water from the hillside spring would inexplicably stop flowing into the basement cistern. And with Dad at work all week, Mom and I would then have to get it going again.

Second Grade

Farewell, My Father

For the past year, Dad had spent a lot of time resting on the sofa. Thing is, I was just seven and didn't realize this was a change for him. And Mom said it was because he was tired from working so hard. We had no idea Dad was carrying a brain tumor.

Memories of Dad

This past Christmas, my daughter, Jenny, gave me as a gift, a thing called My Life In A Book Platform. It's a chance for us older folk to pass on our life stories in the form of a book that can be printed and treasured by our kids and grandkids. Of course, I've kind of been doing this with this website. Will a physical book be more permanent? The jury is still out on that one. But the platform does do something that has proven helpful: It asks questions, once a week, and most of these questions, so far, have actually made me think. Because they aren't always comfortable. This week, for example, the question was, What are your favorite memories of your father? And it's uncomfortable, because I have so few memories of him a all. Fortunately, the memories I have are good. So here goes!

Winter, 1958-1959

Return to Victory

By April, Bloomfield's snow had melted. The same was not true in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom. The fields and meadows were laid out in great swaths of white, like a Norse god's formal dinner table. As we reached the unpaved section of the River Road that connected North Concord and Victory, it was clear not even the sturdy Country Squire was going to be able to traverse twenty miles of mud to the house. And so Mom turned around and rented a room in the nearest town of size, St. Johnsbury, to await the break of spring.

Third Grade

Third Grade Artwork

My mom, it seems, saved everything I ever did. In her memorabila box, preserved by my sister, Louise, I found my report cards, letters I wrote, and of course, drawings.

My Oldest (Surviving) Story

My mom saved all my school papers, or so it seems. Among them was my oldest surviving story. (I remember writing stories when I was in kindergarten, but those have been lost to time.) The actual assignment was to simply write sentences demonstrating the use of various verb declensions. But I had to make the sentences flow into a story.

Winter at Val's Motel

As a widow with three children, with winter of 1959 approaching, my mom decided we could not remain in our isolated house down 20 miles of snow-covered, gravel road with no telephone. In mid-October, the first snow fell. Our house grew bitterly cold despite the renovations. And the road outside was still unpaved, and would soon be impassible for all practical purposes. And so she found an "efficiency" apartment available for rent at Val's Motel, about 25 miles from the house, but on a paved highway and with modern conveniences like phone and electricity. She arranged for us to spend the winter there, and piled my sisters and me and Wrags, and enough clothes and cooking utensils to tide us over, into the Country Squire. Once the snow closed in, we would either have to do without anything we forgot, or buy a new one.

Our First Vermont Christmas

One day when we got home from school, Nana Valentine met us with bad news. Mom was in the hospital with pneumonia and would be there a week or more, until she got better. Meanwhile, we would be staying in the Big House because we were too little to stay by ourselves in our apartment.

Three Attics

The house in Vermont had three large, unfinished rooms we called "attics". As an adult, looking back, I realize that what we called the "first attic" was actually just half the second floor of the house, a half that had never been "finished" as we now say. But my sisters and I didn't care; it just meant we had a whole half-floor to play in. This was where my wind-up Victorla was located, and where my sisters would establish doll villages.

Renovations

Sometime in October or so, when we were still occupying the house in Victory, my penis began to sting when I pee'd. I said nothing, embarrassed that something was wrong "down there" until the pain reached the point I could keep it secret no longer. Mom took me to the emergency room in St. Johnsbury, where we were told I had developed a simple infection from not cleaning myself properly. Mom, it turns out, was supposed to have taught me (from infancy) how to retract the foreskin and wash each day when I bathed. Now, the foreskin had tightened and wouldn't retract. I was given an antibiotic but would have to have "an operation" to prevent a recurrence.

Three Attics

As an adult, looking back, I realize that what we called the "first attic" was actually just half the second floor of the house, a half that had never been "finished" as we now say. But my sisters and I didn't care; it just meant we had a whole half-floor to play in. This was where my wind-up Victorla was located, and where my sisters would establish doll villages.

4th Grade

When I returned to school in the fall, my teacher was, again, Mrs. Howe. That's because she taught, and the room held, third, fourth, and fifth grades. She would teach the third graders something, then have them work on something while she taught the fourth graders, and so on. This was actually kind of ideal for my ADD (undiagnosed, but easy to recognize) as I never had to think about the same thing for very long.

Spring, 1961

We spent the winter of 1960/1961 at Val's Motel in Concord, Vermont. We had become friends with the proprietors so when the snows melted and we were ready to go home, we took pictures with them. And then, again, when we did get home, we took more!

Visiting Grandparents in St Johnsbury

After my dad died, my grandparents moved from Bloomfield, New Jersey, where they had lived forever, to St Johnsbury, Vermont, to be closer to us. They moved into a townhouse apartment in a small, four-unit building. Their landlady was Mrs Cox, a widow.

From Vermont to Arizona in 1961

In 1961, after three years of trying to raise three children in rural Vermont by herself, my mom decided to move to a gentler clime. But where? There were two places on her list of possibilities. One was St. Augustine, Florida, where she had spent a couple years as a teenager; the other was Arizona, a place she'd long wanted to see but had never been.

A Visit From The Browns

My Mom's cousins lived in upstate New York, and one day came for a visit. They were led by Cousin Jairus, who had a terrible allergy to pollen, one so bad we would now call it asthma. But I didn't understand such things, and in any case, no one had warned me. So, when the cousins had arrived, I went into the meadow and gathered a huge armload of goldenrod, and brought it in as a welcome gift.

1961: The Beach House

In the 1920s, my Mom and her mother made several winter trips to St. Augustine, Florida (without her father, who remained in Bloomfield, New Jersey, to work his optometry practice). Mom liked it there, especially the mild winters and laid-back attitude common to many Southern towns of the period.

Christmas on St. George Street

This was my first Christmas old enough to know the truth about Santa Claus, and also old enough to not say anything to my sisters about it (unlike the previous summer in Vermont, when I had figured it and out of the blue started warning my sisters that, if they didn't behave, Santa wouldn't bring them anything. (I was trying to be supportive.)

Welcome to Cathedral Parish School

So, in addition to having moved into the second new house in Florida after leaving the home we loved in Vermont, my sisters and I had to deal with going to, not only a new school, but a new kind of school as well: a religious one. Cathedral Parish School on St. George Street was an easy walk from our new house. Dealing with new students, new teachers and new rules and rituals was a bit more challenging.

New Friends and a Piano Recital

When we first moved to the Saint George Street house, my sisters wasted no time in meeting the neighbor kids. I had never been that good at making friends my own age, except when I "borrowed" my sister's friends. For example, somehow they met a girl whose grandparents lived on our street. Her name was Kim Bauer, and her father was the manager of the local Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum. That meant that my sisters and I could visit Ripley's for free!

The Rattlesnake Story

I was suddenly startled back to reality, however, by a loud rattling sound directly in front of me. I lowered the script and saw, to my horror, a huge rattlesnake, about four feet in front of me, coiled in striking position.

Another Move, To The Beach!

Our next move was to be the last for several years. But it was into a brand-new, just-built, development home within easy walking distance of the beach. Plus, it was on an island, sort of. (And I've always liked islands, for some reason.)

6th Grade

During my elementary and high school careers, I had both nuns and what they called "lay" teachers (as in layperson, or non-cleric). Of the three non-nuns, Mrs. Howe and Mrs. Forson tie for most influential in my personal growth. I'd had Mrs. Howe for parts of three school years; I was to have Mrs. Forson for parts of three as well. However, as I arrived for my first day of sixth grade, I had no way of knowing that.

A Visit From The Vice-President

As a Catholic school student, I was all but required to practically worship John F. Kennedy, the United States' first Catholic President, and by extension, anyone in his orbit, which of course included his Vice President, Lyndon B. Johnson. So try to imagine the excitement of us fifth graders when we learned that we would form an "honor guard" to greet him at the Old Mission, or as it was more properly known, the Mission Nombre de Dios.

Coquina Gables Neighbors

Although in my seventies I self-identify as an introvert, that clearly wasn't always the case. As a 5-year-old in New Jersey, I had walked around the entire block, introducing myself to any neighbor who answered the door and asked them if they had a record player. I was a little more subtle as a 12-year-old, but I was still ready to get to know the neighbors.

Welcome to the Jungle

South of our little development was nothing but Florida scrub. My sisters and friends and I spent nearly every day each summer, either exploring and playing in the woods, or going to the beach...usually both.

7th Grade

Substitute Racist

Somewhere a few months into the school year, Mrs. Forson explained to us that she was going to have a baby, and was going to have to spend time at home resting. (Mrs. Forson already had a number of kids of her own, so she wasn't a spring chicken.) And so, until after the baby was born in early spring, we would have a…substitute teacher. There's no point in dragging a dead woman of her time through the mud so I won't publish her name (if I can even remember it; it's been 60 years!) but she was not the quality of teacher I had come to expect from Mrs. Forson.)

8th Grade

Hurricane Dora

After three years in Florida, we had had a couple of hurricane scares, but the storms had always missed us. However, in 1964, a huge hurricane, Dora, was predicted to hit St. Augustine dead on. With my grandfather's health failing, my mom was concerned that, should be become ill and need medical care while the hurricane was actually happening, we would be unable to get help from our house on Anastasia Island. After all, the hospital was on the mainland, and there were only two bridges to it, and both, we were told, would be closed.

Cross and Sword Year 1

It's difficult to overstate the excitement in St. Augustine as the year 1965 came to a peak. St. Augustine had been founded in 1565 by Don Pedro Menendez de Avilles, as absolutely every resident knew by heart. That made this exactly 400 years from its founding, and there was a lot of money to be made. A giant cross was being erected on the site (not that the cross being there would generate money, but the workmen and metalworkers got paid). The 168-year-old Cathedral was being renovated (more paid workers, including artisans). And a great outdoor theatre was being constructed, that would house Florida's Official State Play, Cross & Sword, written by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Paul Green.

Father's Day Photo Op

Back in the day, holidays were a time to dress up; and dressing up was justification for buying a roll of color film and taking photos of us, dressed up. On Father's Day, 1965, my grandmother crossed the street to the home of the Heitmans, and asked if they would mind taking photos of the family. Of course they didn't mind; and, since it was Father's Day, they were dressed up too and so wound up in one of the photos, too.

The Three Young Atkinsons

Mr. Atkinson was a college professor, or had been; he was also a published author of both textbooks and more popular fare, such as his first book, Intellectual Tramp. His books were autobiographical and revealed a man whose lofty opinion of himself was balanced by the scorn with which he viewed most others.

Matanzas Theatre Memories

St. Augustine is a fair sized city, these days. But in the 1960s it was much smaller. And when we moved into the house on St George St, it was just a walk from there to the Matanzas Theatre, the town's only cinema, which brought the wider world within reach.

9th Grade

Dedication of Prince of Peace Church

As part of St Augustine's 400th Anniversary celebration, the Catholic Church (or our diocese, or somebody—no one discussed particulars with me) put up a new, modern church on the grounds where, in 1565, Don Pedro Menendez de Avilles first landed and the first Mass on the New World was said. This was to supplement the very old (and very small) chapel that was already there.

10th Grade

Palm Sunday

As a Catholic kid growing up in Catholic St Augustine, I learned the year is marked with holy and otherwise special days in nearly every month of the year. One was Palm Sunday, which was punctuated by a rare outside ceremony, the Blessing of the Fleet.

Easter Sunday

Easter was a Big Deal in 1967. Not because of Easter baskets or anything like that; as a sophomore in high school, I had long outgrown anything of the sort. But, as a Catholic, we had to get extra dressed-up; we went to Mass, and then home for, as was our tradition, a hike, followed by Easter dinner. That year I had been dating Marianne Pye, a boarding student at my high school, and invited her to have Easter dinner with my family.

Carousel

Sister Mary George stood before the St Joseph Academy choir and said, We're going to do something very ambitious for our year-end performance. It's a Broadway musical called Roger and Hammerstein's Carousel. To be honest, not all the nuns think we can take this on. And, most years, I would agree, which is why I've never done it before, either. But, this year…this year, I think you guys can actually pull it off. What do you think?

Baywatch, 1967

So, when I told Mr. Fulton, at the end of the day, that anytime he needed someone at Butler Beach, to give me a call. And he got this odd expression of relief, as if I'd just gotten him out of trouble somehow. In the next few years, I was to come to recognize this as the expression a white person who isn't a racist asshole wears when they discover another white person who also isn't a racist asshole, and together they can solve a problem racist assholes have created and wish to retain.

11th Grade

Mosquito Control Ditches Hikes

130,000 years ago, when the sea level was higher than it is today, coquina, a type of limestone composed of shell fragments, grew into a biogenic (non-coral) reef, during the Pleistocene epoch. The coquina was deposited by waves and currents along the coast, forming a ridge that separated the Atlantic Ocean from the Matanzas River. The island was shaped by sea level fluctuations, erosion, and sedimentation over time, and then the activites of humans, eventually turning it into a playground for a bunch of teenagers to happily explore. I was one of them.

House on Sevilla Street

I'm not sure why we moved. My grandfather had died a few months before, so strictly speaking, we could have used one fewer bedrooms, if Gramma and Mom shared a room. So maybe a smaller house would be cheaper. Or it might have been that Mom didn't want to continue living on an island that often became inaccessible during hurricanes. In any case, she sold the place in Coquina Gables and we moved to a house on Sevilla Street, which was actually walking distance (slightly over a half-mile) to my high school!

12th Grade

Ring Day

So, one day on or near September 20th, we had Ring Day. This is the day we receive the class rings we've ordered…if we ordered one. They were coveted but not required. My family couldn't afford one, so this is an AI photo of a generic one. But I got to attend the ceremony anyway, to record it for the yearbook.

Classes at St Joe

As I've mentioned, I was the high school yearbook photographer at my high school, St Joseph Academy, 1968-1969. These photos were mostly, though not all, taken early in the school year and I've assembled the photos I took of the various classes in session.

Homecoming

I'm not sure why I got the job as football cinematographer but Coach Drozd himself asked me to do it and of course I accepted. It didn't bother me that I didn't have the slightest idea how to play football. I knew how to take pictures.

The Out Crowd

By the time I became a senior, I really felt like I was starting to figure life out. Primarily, I had friends. Not a huge number; I realize now I'm a bit of an introvert and prefer a few good friends to many shallow ones. But we had parties; we got together for things like carpet golf; we had a good time. And we did all of that without drinking.

My Date With Carla

As a high school senior in 1968, it seemed like the world was opening up for me. I had a driver's license and probably drove my mom's car more than she did. I had friends, I had a job so a little spending money. I even had a girlfriend, or at least, a girl who would go out with me if I asked.

A Groovy Trip Down Memory Lane

In going through the yearbook photos I took, there are a small number of candids, just random shots of classmates I took since I had the camera anyway. And looking through them now, I find those little mind-movies playing as I recall those long-ago days.

Varsity Girls' Basketball

In 1968 the St. Joseph Academy Eagles were the girls' basketball team. These were the photos I took for the yearbook on one cool December day.

The Singing None

When we started our Senior year in September, we had a brand-new nun, Sister Anthony Marie, as our homeroom teacher. She was also the choir teacher. She was very nice, young and hip, and we took to her. She taught a full load of classes and impacted every student in the school…before the unthinkable happened.

Junior Varsity Cheerleaders

As part of my job as yearbook photographer, I was assigned to photograph the Junior Varsity Cheerleaders. I suggested we take the pictures at the Old Fort for the ambiance.

St Joseph Academy Activities

Like every high school, St. Joseph Academy had various clubs and offices so we kids could learn to govern ourselves. At the time, it just seemed like time-fillers; but, of course, now I realize we were learning skills then that would apply to our adult lives.

As yearbook photographer, I had the assignment of photographing the various clubs and their officers. Not all the photos made it into the yearbook, so some of these are being seen for the first time!

A STAR Student

So, I really wanted to become a film director. But even I, as a naïve high school senior in 1969, knew that one doesn't just become a film director. And I would have to earn a living somehow. Besides, I was already friends with the guys at the town's larger (of two) radio station and I wanted to also be a radio station disk jockey. But to be a disk jockey, one needed to have an FCC Third Class Radio Operators' License; and the tests for that were to be given in Jacksonville. Now, they also had tests for going to college, the ACTs and SATs, given in Jacksonville; and the dates matched. So I decided to do both.

Varsity Cheerleaders

As yearbook photographer, one of my assignments was taking photos of the varsity cheerleaders. These girls were the most popular so this was pretty much my only chance to interact with them; and I made the most of it! (Well, so did they!)

Oratorical Contest

I have no idea who sponsored it or why, but my high school yearbook says this was an Oratorical Contest. But it looks like it had a lot of enthusiastic participation! (How was I not in this? I don't even remember being asked!)

SJA Yearbook Photos

Although I was the high school yearbook photographer, I did not take the senior class photos. A professional did that, of course. And so I never got the photos. But I do have a copy of the yearbook; and two years ago I began the process of scanning the halftone images from the pages; removing noise (like the halftone dots), colorizing each image, and finally replacing the background with a cleaner portrait backdrop. I hope someone appreciates this!

Priests, Nuns and Staff

As I go through my 1969 high school yearbook and restore and colorize the photos (we have a reunion coming up and I'd love to have it done by then), I find many fond (and a few less fond) memories come up.

Photographic Fantasies

When I was ten, I experienced a pivotal moment that set the stage for a lifelong fascination with photographic special effects. My grandfather, out of the blue, decided to treat my sisters and me to a movie. It was Disney's The Parent Trap, ostensibly about divorce—a word I'd literally never heard before, but instinctively knew I'd better not tell my mom—but blowing that aside was my astonishment at viewing two girls onscreen at the same time that I knew were played by one actress. The advertisements and posters made sure we knew it: Starring Hayley Mills and Haley Mills! The sheer magic of seeing two identical Hayley Mills characters seamlessly sharing the screen was, for lack of a better term, mind-boggling. I was captivated, utterly enchanted, not by the possibility that the same person could exist in two places at once, but that they could, convincingly, appear to be.

The Cross and Mary Joan

To say that Catholicism permeated my town of St. Augustine would be an understatement. It had, of course, been founded by a Catholic conquerer, Don Pedro Menendez of Spain. I had attended Cathedral Parish (Catholic) elementary school; I now attended St. Joseph Academy, a Cathloic high school. Of course, I went to Mass every Sunday plus many weekdays as an altar boy. And we had a giant Cross looking over our shoulders at everything we did, so big that on any overcast night its sky shadows dominated the whole town.

Mysteries in the Sky

I have previously written about weird things that happened when we lived in Vermont. Now let me mention a few weird things that happened in Florida, starting with our time at the beach and ending the day after Senior Prom.

National Honor Society

The National Honor Society (NHS) is a prestigious organization that recognizes outstanding high school students for their achievements in scholarship, leadership, service, and character. Established in 1921, the NHS has grown to include chapters in all 50 states, U.S. territories, and many schools around the world, engaging and serving more than 1.4 million students.

Class Night

Being an older teenager is an exciting time yet also terrifying. There are all these new things we're expected to just know about, and we pretend we already do, when in fact it's all new and scary. Sex, dancing, drugs, cigarettes, and, of course, drinking alcohol are all rites of passage through which we must navigate. That's why last night's Class Night party was such an adventure, as I'd been told I would be drinking, whether I wanted to or not.

Graduation

My graduating class graduated high school on the first of June, 1969. This was just a few weeks before the first humans visited the Moon. Here are the photos. (Of the graduation, not the Moon.)

Dating Mary

Mary Steinberg, whom I married a few years later, and I, graduated high school together and we dated most of the summer after. Here are some of the things we did.

The Posada Menendez Restaurant

After more than 55 years, I no longer remember how or why I began working at St Augustine's Posada Menendez Restaurante; only that I did. And I surely wasn't there for long, maybe a couple of years of nights and weekends, working with people who became friends, at least for a while.

Four Months in Tampa

I had fallen in love with Arizona on our 1961 trip there. And so, without any actual guidance from my high school guidance counselor, I decided I wanted to go to college there. I poured over the paper maps of the day, studying every detail about Arizona I could find. I sent for and received a catalog of courses offered by Arizona State University. Filmmaking was one of the offerings. So that's where I wanted to go. Unfortunately, my mother had different ideas.

My First Plane Flight

This is the story of how, in 1970, I managed to embarrass myself and disgrace my family name for generations to come…all during a 20-minute jet flight from Jacksonville to Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

Say Hello To Hollywood

While I was visiting my best friend, Chris, in Hollywood, Florida, I had mentioned not really having any idea what I was going to do next. My hope of attending Arizona State University had been shot down; Tampa Technical Institute had turned out to be a rip-off (that's not just me saying it; the Federal Government finally cracked down on them a couple years later). I couldn't really afford to live, even at home, on a busboy's salary. (The Posada Menendez Restaurant had taken me back when I returned home to St. Augustine.) So, I was surprised but grateful when Chris' mom invited me to stay with them for awhile, at least long enough to see if I could get a better job down there.

That Time I Became Psychic

Don was in training to become a Spiritualist healer, a person who uses the "laying on of hands" to effect physical cures of illnesses. He and Margaret introduced me to his mentor, an old woman by the name of Marguerite Card who lived across the unpaved street from them. Marguerite held classes every Tuesday night, and invited me to participate. Nothing whatsoever was said about money, and I took the invitation to be a social one. It was agreed I would return to Cassadaga on the following Tuesday.

Adam Parker Pye

There are certain points in our lives where we make a decision, or are affected by someone else's decision, to the point that our lives take a completely different turn. This chapter is about one of those times, the time I almost got married, and almost adopted a son.

Collegiate

And so, according to the plan I evolved on my "year off", I started at St. Johns River Junior College in Palatka, Florida in January, 1971. Yes, technically that was the "second" semester of the year. But I was assured I would still be able to rack up all the classes I needed for my Associate in Arts degree, and that turned out to be so. So, I wound up taking courses in subjects I was interested in, like Music Theory, Choir, and Theatre Arts.

Adam Parker Pye

When I was a sophomore in high school, my school, St. Joseph Academy, had both "day" students and "boarding" students. I dated one of the boarders, Marrianne Pye, that year, which was the last St. Joe had boarders. So, after that, I could no longer date her, since she lived in Titusville, Florida, about a 2 hours' drive south of me. But we remained friends, exchanging letters on a monthly basis.

A Teaching Moment

As I said, I started junior college in January. I continued to attend the two shorter summer terms, and started my fall semester (they called it a "trimester") in August. But now I had enough credits to offer my services to my old high school as a choir teacher!

A Modest Proposal

I'm not saying I wish it hadn't happened. It happened perfectly. I adore my children and grandchildren and was friends with my ex-wife, up to and including being the one who became her caregiver when she came down with cancer. But it has to be said: my now ex-dead-father-in-law tricked me into proposing to his daughter.

My First Wedding

It turns out that six months is barely enough time to prepare for a wedding—especially a full-blown Catholic wedding, complete with High Mass, an organist, and a full choir.

Our First Apartments

In the early '70s, people—especially Mary's 80-year-old father—still had the idea that getting married equaled a stay-at-home wife. And so, when she and I got married, Mary quit her job—one that she enjoyed and was good at, working with blind kids—and we moved into our new apartment on Laurel Street in Palatka, Florida.

Palm Coast

So Mary and I, and our friend John, settled into our airy single-wide mobile home in Breezy Brae Trailer Park, in Florida. It was the middle of April, 1972. Mary and I had been married for two months. Now all we needed were jobs.

Palm Coast

So Mary and I, and our friend John, settled into our airy single-wide mobile home in Breezy Brae Trailer Park, in Florida. It was the middle of April, 1972. Mary and I had been married for two months. Now all we needed were jobs.

On The Radio

I had always wanted to work at a radio station.

Finding Fort Lauderdale

In school I always found myself drawn to the teachers; here I found the manager and I had a lot of common interests and I enjoyed talking with him. However, one day, my supervisor came to me with a word of warning. "This is a union shop," he intoned. "You can't go around fraternizing with management. I mean, you can talk to whoever you want, but the last guy who kept takling with managers found his tires slashed when it was time to go home."

Losing Fort Lauderdale

Karen was born at the end of January, which in Fort Lauderdale was still pretty warm. And, of course, it only got hotter and more humid as the months passed. So, as I drove my little King Pest Control car (without air conditioning), I continued to guzzle, as I had the previous year, bottle after bottle of Coca Cola. And, unknown to me at the time, this had numerous unfortunate effects on my body.

In The Navy

By 1974, the Vietnam War had been dragging on for nearly two decades, taking a toll on the country and its people. The draft lottery system, introduced a few years earlier, had left many young men like myself living in uncertainty, waiting for our numbers to be called. Despite my high draft number, which afforded some semblance of security, the job market was tough, and opportunities were scarce. The Navy offered a stable career, valuable skills, and a sense of purpose. So, despite the risks and the unknowns, I made the decision to enlist. It was a choice born out of necessity but also fueled by a desire to serve and find a meaningful path forward.

Life in Zion

And so we moved to a small rental home in Zion, Illinois. They were accustomed to renting to Navy recruits and so did not require a lease. But it was a minimally-appointed place. There was only one bathroom, and it was in the basement. The bedrooms were in a finished attic with sloping ceilings that were too low for me to stand upright in. But it was clean and safe, and I could afford it, barely, on my meager Navy pay.

The USS Yosemite

The USS Yosemite (AD-19) was commissioned on March 26, 1944, as a Dixie-class destroyer tender. During World War II, she played a crucial role in the Pacific Theater, providing repair services to over 200 ships in locations such as Hawaii, Eniwetok, Ulithi, and the Philippines. After the war, she supported occupation forces in Japan until March 1946 and then returned to the U.S. for various deployments and overhauls. The ship was also active during the Korean War, providing valuable support to the U.S. Navy in the Pacific. Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, the Yosemite participated in numerous deployments, including the Cuban Missile Crisis blockade in 1962. In the early 1970s, she underwent regular overhauls and continued her service in the Mediterranean, supporting operations during the Gulf War. By 1975, when I lived on her, the USS Yosemite was still actively serving and supporting the U.S. Navy's operations.

Bakersville Fire Tower

In 1976, fresh out of the Navy, I found myself in the Florida pine scrub, working as a fire control dispatcher for the Division of Forestry. It wasn't exactly a calling—more like a government program called CETA dropping me there like a wayward ember. The job came with a radio, a map, and a house at the base of the fire tower. My job was simple: listen, log, and send the plows when things got hot.

Programming in Panama City

The CETA position I had with the Florida Division of Forestry was never meant to be a permananent one. However, I was allowed to transition to permananent employment if it were mutually agreeable. But the Bakersville office didn't need me. So, to remain with the DOF meant moving to where they did need me: The Panama City District Office. This would take us to a part of Florida I'd never been. It would also be the longest and most complicated move I'd ever managed. But I enjoyed working with the foresters and the new position also included a house like the one we were in. So I agreed, gave Mary the news, and we packed.

University of West Florida

I had been to junior college, indeed, had my Associate in Arts degree. But this was my first time at an upper-level university. Different classes were in different buildings, so there was a lot of walking involved. The campus was beautiful, and I often took Mary and the kids with me if I weren't going to be too long. The kids could just run and run and be out in the sunshine. For them, it was like a park.

How I Spent My Summer and Fall Co-op Terms

In January of 1978 I returned to college (the University of West Florida) for the spring session, during which I was tapped to join the school's Cooperative Education Program, which (in my case) would have me traveling to Washington, DC, to do work study with the EPA. At the end of the second term, I had to submit a term paper (covering both terms) describing what I had done and what I had learned.

The Co-op Syndrome

So here we are again, about to describe what would have been another six months of co-oping in Washington but turned out to be mere three…plus a "real" job at a terrific salary, and a dashing example of what the Co-op program can result in, even in spite of itself…

Professional Micro Systems

Then I found myself back in school for another six months. It was a strange time; because I had already learned at the EPA just about everything my school classes had to teach me—and more thoroughly. Finally I just took most of my remaining classes by examination. Now, the only thing left between me and my degree in Systems Science were two courses in Accounting, one in Statistics, and one in Calculus.

Getting Mugged

So, to recap: In September of 1979, I was living in an Alexandria, Virginia, apartment with Alex and Ray, while finishing up my fourth and final Co-operative Education term with the Environmental Protection Agency. The apartment itself was in a huge highrise that had been built in the middle of a rather downscale neighborhood.

Christmas 1991

As you might recall from last year's letter, January found me job-hunting, just after having moved to Melbourne, Florida. As rough as that was on me, you can imagine how unsettled that left the rest of the family, wondering what state they were going to live in next.

Christmas 1992

This has been a banner year for the Cilwas, in the way that Dan Quayle could be said to have been a remarkable Vice President. The population at 185 Village Circle Way went from a high of 10 people to a low of two.

1993 Year In Review

I'm sitting in a motel room in Atlanta, the evening of December 1st, suddenly aware that it's time I put the year in perspective for my annual Christmas letter. It's been a busy year, and a busier last two months, but I'll do what I can.

1994 Year In Review

What a year this has been! And how fast it's gone by! It seems like January was just last week, and now it's December. Mary's and my divorce was made final on February 12, 1994—our anniversary. Aren't we lucky to have judges with a sense of humor? But that made it easy to calculate exactly how long we were married: 22 years.

How A Good Boy Went Bad

This autobiographical article was first published in Windows Tech Journal, as a way of introducing my WinWidgets column to the readers. It provides a punch line to the old joke, "Six years ago I couldn't even spell 'programmer'…now I are one!"

1998 Year In Review

It is once again that time of year when we wax nostalgic for all our friends and relatives and wish we could have shared more of our year with them

My Big Fat Gay Wedding

Michael Manion and I were married in the Unitarian Universalist Church of Surprise, AZ on August 12, 2000, at noon, by the Rev. Walt Wieder and the Rev. Surya-Patricia Lane Hood.

2003: Christmas Dinner

2003's Christmas Dinner was a relatively small affair. For those of you who missed it, here's what we all looked like.

2005: Merry Christmas

2005 was another wild wide for the Cilwa/Manion clan. We began the year with Michael attending Glendale Community College as a sophomore, and Paul underemployed at Best Western, still trying to find a position that would make appropriate use of his skill set. Daughter Karen, ex-wife/friend Mary, and grandson Zachary rounded out the household. Paul's Mom, Edna Mae, returned home after a short visit to his sisters in Florida in March. That was expected. But the month before, our son John returned from Iceland, after trying for several years to deal with his increasingly irrational spouse. His son, Max, remains in Iceland, it being very difficult to sue for custody from another country.

Wisdom Teeth and Intelligent Design

Yesterday afternoon I went to the dentist. More specifically, I went to the Arizona School of Dentistry, where I get cut-rate dental work done by students. This sounds scary, but I had an emergency tooth-pulling done there and it was a lot less painful than the teeth I had pulled when I was in Navy boot camp.

Christmas Wish List

I hate making out these lists. Frankly, it seems like anyone who knows me well enough to be giving me a gift, should know what I might like. However, everyone who does know me, says they need a list. I do have a wish list at Amazon.com:

Christmas Letter 2006!

It's time again for your yearly recap of the adventures of the Cilwa-Manions.

Christmas Letter 2007

For the second year in a row, my annual Christmas letter is being presented as part of my blog. Is this a trend?

Merry Christmas, 2008

Oh, my, oh my…what an amazingly full year 2008 has been! Complete with cast changes and changes of scene, it seems appropriate at this time of year that I recap the doings of the residents of 10143 East Lobo Avenue and share them with you, our dear friends and extended family.

The House On Natal

For whatever reason, I have always had this idea in my head that home ownership is a scam. Nevertheless, Michael really wanted to own a house. As did everyone else in the family. Now, it did turn out I was right—I wound up losing the house. Still, it was fun while it lasted.

25 Random Facts About Me, Paul S Cilwa

It used to take a few weeks for a fad to sweep the nation. "Sorry about that, Chief!" needed at least three episodes of Get Smart! to air before everyone in the country was repeating it. (My mom was still saying it the day she died.)

Going Where No Man Has Gone Before

Today I had my first colonoscopy. When Mom had her first one, maybe 20 years ago, it was a miserable experience for her, one which not only hurt as it was happening, but for weeks afterwards. People are supposed to have a colonoscopy performed at 50 years of age, which for me was 8 years ago. But Mom's experience caused me to hesitate. Still, we've had a number of family members succumb to colon cancer. So it seemed like I really shouldn't put it off any longer.

Wheel of Seasons

I've lived, now, in three corners of the United States so I guess I'm as qualified as anyone to reflect on the seasons and the difference in how they change. I'm moved to do this now that the days here in Phoenix are cooling in preparation for autumn. Today's high will be "only" 97°F.

Christmas Letter 2009

Like you, we at the Cilwa-Manion household are stunned at how quickly this year has flown. Can it really be time for the annual Christmas (excuse us, "Holiday") letter already? Well, it is; so without any further ado let's recap what we've been up to.

Office Space

Many of you know that I work at Toyota Financial Services. (At, not for, as I am a consultant.) Partially since Toyota has been in the news lately, and partially because we can't bring in visitors (for safety reasons), and partially because I just moved to a new desk, I thought I would describe my work environment and, in general terms, what I do here.

Our Kitchen

Regular readers may recall we moved into a new house…our own house…in October. I've been posting photos of its rooms as we make changes. This weekend we had our friend Greg come over to help put in some new kitchen lights, as well as a few other things.

DVD Case

Visitors to our new house have been very kind not to look askance at the boxes of DVDs we have had stacked in our family room. I've been collecting DVDs for years, but of course such a collection is only useful if the DVDs in it can be easily accessed at will. In our old house, we had simply stored them alphabetically in a couple of bookcases. But I had a better solution in mind for the new house.

More Home Improvements

While Jenny, Zach and I were camping, Michael (in between bouts of studying) was adding to the appeal of our mansion, with a little table and a fully-loaded china cabinet.

A Nicer Kitchen

When we first moved into the New House, we found kitchen appliances in the stainless steel decor that so many people like. Well, except for the refrigerator, which didn't exist; the previous owners apparently loved it so much they took it with them to Minnesota or wherever the heck they moved to. Which meant that the day we moved in, I had to buy a refrigerator even though I had just spent my last penny on the down payment. But I did, from a guy who advertised on Craig's List. Sadly, the $250 unit I bought didn't work nearly as well in the house as it seemed to in the guy's yard. Thus, Tuesday, I bought a new refrigerator. And then, since I was in the Sears Outlet Store anyway, and had just saved $700 by buying a floor model, I went and bought a new stove, too.

New Furnishings

Since I got back early from my camping trip, Michael suggested I pick up end tables and a coffee table for our still-sparsely-furnished living room. Then, we spent a couple of hours at the swap meet down the street, where Jenny bought new pool furniture. Finally, Jenny and Zach put up the family room curtains, which came with the house but I'd paid $90 to have dry cleaned. So, it's time for a few more house pictures.

Oh, My Arm!

I tore a muscle in my arm two weeks ago in Hawaii. It was almost healed by the past weekend, when I re-tore it on a whitewater rafting trip. Yesterday was my regular visit to my doctor, and I had to explain why my arm looked like someone had backed over it two or three times with the Chrysler.

Enjoying Our Pool

As you may know, our new (as of October) house includes a pool and today was the first day I actually got to go in it! In addition to Michael and me, and Jenny and Zach, we also had Mary visiting and our son John and his girlfriend Rachel (who will be moving back in with us at the end of the month).

Guns and Roses

What could be more appropriate on Memorial Day, than to send the kids out to do target practice?

The War Between Cats and Dogs

We have two dogs and two cats living with us. All my life, I had heard how cats and dogs despise each other. It's true, one of our cats is rather standoffish and doesn't seem to really like the dogs. But she doesn't like us, or for that matter, the other cat, that much, either. Her name is Cassie and she will let Zachary do absolutely anything to her; but the rest of us see very little of her.

Oh, My Hands!

I've lived in Arizona since 1997, and visited here seven times before that. I have seen cacti before. Close-up, even. So you'd think I'd know better than to load up my hands with cactus needles. But, apparently I don't.

Clearing The Air

Where do you breathe the most toxic air all day long? On the highway? In your office? Getting your nails done? Actually it might indeed be the nail salon, but few people have daily manicures. So the most dangerous place for you to breathe is actually your own home. And, as with all environmental toxins, no individual breath will kill you; it's the cumulative effects of millions of such breaths (plus other toxins) that result in what we call "aging" but is actually just reaction to a toxic body burden in the form of obesity, high blood pressure, cancer, wrinkled skin, and a host of other illnesses.

Tenth Anniversary

Today, Michael and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. For some odd reason, the tenth is supposed to be the "tin" anniversary. That is, we are supposed to receive gifts made of tin. Does anyone make anything of tin anymore? I propose that we officially rewrite the anniversary gift lists and designate the tenth wedding anniversary the Porn Anniversary. By now, that would be a useful gift!

Nancy Drew and the Missing Cell Phone

Today I planned to go camping at Lockett Meadow in the San Francisco Peaks, north of Flagstaff. Instead, I spent it trying to locate my lost cell phone. Here's what happened.

Welcome Dish, Goodbye Cox

Today, we said "Hello!" to the Dish Network and "Goodbye!" to Cox cable. My friends are getting a lot of mileage over the unlikelihood of my ever saying goodbye to Cox and I didn't expect it either. My daughter, Jenny, instigated this by virtue of her being the one who pays the cable bill, as part of her contribution to household expenses. She discovered she could reduce our monthly payment by $50 by going with Dish and so, today, it happened.

Uh-oh, I Wet My Cellphone

I do not have a long history of bad luck with cellphones. In fact, they've done pretty well for me. But two weeks ago, one of Zach's friends swiped mine; I got it back, but yesterday I fell into the pool with it. So either my luck has changed for the worse, or it was really time to get a new phone.

Augusta Ranch Picnic

Tonight our homeowner's association held a community picnic. Michael and Zach and I, along with Zach's friend Tyler, attended. (Jenny decided the laundry, and her bed, were more appealing.)

Halloween, 2010

On the yearly holiday countdown, today is #3: Halloween. And we celebrated over the entire weekend, beginning with an awesome party last night and the candy-ladling tonight.

Christmas Letter, 2010

Like you, we are stunned at how quickly this year has flown. Can it really be time for the annual Christmas (excuse us, "Holiday") letter already? Well, it is; so without any further ado let's recap what we've been up to.

Jason

Then, when I least expected it, this past October I happened to meet a young man named Jason. And that changed everything for me. I couldn't stop thinking about him; and when I did, my heart skipped a beat. By November 11, I realized I was falling in love with him and told him so. To my joy and amazement, Jason admitted that he was also falling in love, with me.

Oh, My Leg!

My last blog entry was dated January 7th, and I apologize for that. I didn't die. But, it seems, I came pretty close. Here's what happened.

Jason and Paul's Grand Canyon Wedding

Today was the day that Jason and I eloped and got married.

Obsession

As previously documented, I fell in love with a man named Jason and married him in a private sharing of vows at Grand Canyon. In a fairytale world, that would have led to "happily ever after". Sadly, the real world seldom operates that way. And, despite the claims of popular songs to the contrary, sometimes love just ain't enough.

Codependency

I've just ended my fourth romantic relationship and it's time to look at the role I played in why they didn't work out, as a first step in learning to stop perpetuating this pattern.

Christmas, 2011

This is the first year, since I started sending Christmas letters in 1976, that I am doing so while living alone. Nevertheless, here is my annual Christmas letter for 2011.

Relationship 2.0

A glance at the masthead shows that Jason and I are back together. This is what I hoped would happen, though I had no idea if it would, when we broke up.

A Letter To The Court

I am preparing this statement because my short-term memory loss makes it tricky for me to present a complex train of thought without interruption. I've taken days to write this, but if it will get across to you an accurate understanding of my situation, it will have been worth it.

Risks

Today's news is, perhaps, not wholly unexpected. I got a text from a friend, that a mutual friend of ours is in the hospital with alcohol-induced hepatitis. In other words, he is dying from continuing to engage in behavior that is generally considered to be risky: Drinking heavily despite constant warnings and cajoling and threats by his loved ones to stop. And it makes us all wonder, why didn't he just stop when he saw it was making him sick?

Farewell, My 2015

It's been a few years since I've done one of these year-end letters. It's not because I tired of doing them; it's just that I've been recovering from my bout of flesh-eating bacteria from 2011 and, frankly, this is the first time since then I've felt up to doing one.

2016: Year In Review

Most people, with a few happy exceptions, had a pretty shitty 2016. This is actually something I predicted several years ago, as this is the last year before August 21, 2017, when Earth officially reaches adequate quantum frequency to say we're in 4th Density. Before then, the Darkness will make a last, frantic stab at not disappearing, since Darkness cannot abide the Light of the increasing frequency.

However, that said, 2016 did provide many blessings to the Cilwa clan, and to Keith and I in particular…mostly because we made an effort to have a great time!

Our Little Home In Key West

My daughter, Jennifer, moved to Key West late last year and, as I did some years back when I moved to Arizona and encouraged the rest of the family to join me, Jenny is now encouraging us all to move to Key West. Keith and I both love the Keys, so it wasn't too hard to make the decision. So we picked a place, and got a batch of photos that will have to do since the condo is currently being rented. (It will be available for us to move into in October.)

Changing Sanctuaries

It's a small, enclosed patio, a garden, really, though my gardening skills are meager at best and now that I'm recovering from a leg broken in two places, non-existent. Yet it's my favorite part of this condo. It feels so sheltered and safe despite its location in Central Phoenix. There may be crime occurring within a square mile, but here, it's quiet but for the sounds of birds and the hum of distant traffic from the freeway.

But nothing is more constant than change, and it appears that Keith and I will be moving to a condo in Key West come October. It too has a porch, overlooking the inner row of condos and, possibly, a glimpse of the Gulf.

Leg Karma

Since I was a kid, my left leg has been subject to some pretty horrendous torture. Sure, I started small with the usual scrapes and bruises but by the time I was in 6th Grade I had to wear a cast for weeks, then a brace (you can imagine how that contributed to my popularity in a new school). The worst, of course, was the year I spent in hosital and convalescing after I almost died from flesh-eating bacteria…in my left leg. But just a few weeks ago, I broke that same leg while house-hunting in Key West, and I've decided enough is enough! —I'm going to figure out the karmic causes to this so I can stop it from happening any more.

Diary Of A Broken Leg

On March 25th, I fell and broke my left leg in two places. But I survived. As I did so, I kept notes as to how my recovery went. after all, it might prove useful to someone else going through something similar. Here, then, is the journal of my recovery.

Flash Wedding

Oh, joyous day! Today I married my love, Keith Jim, in a small, family ceremony near Sunset Crater, just outside of Flagstaff, Arizona (location chosen because it's between Phoenix, where Keith and I and much of my family live, and Shiprock, New Mexico, where most of Keith's family lives.

Christmas 2017

As it was for pretty much everyone, 2017 was a helluva year. We had a wedding but also multiple funerals; moved out of two places and into a new one. So let's get started, shall we?

My 67th Birthday

I made it through another year! And we celebrated at my daughter, Jenny's, home (also known as "The Castle"). In attendance, in addition to myself and Jenny, were my husband, Keith; my co-grandparent Michael; my son, John; Jenny's husband, Jimmy; Jimmy's niece Danielle; and Jenny and Jimmy's babies, Gianna and Dominic. In addition we Facetimed with my daughter Karen. (My other daughter, Dorothy, was at work.)

Christmas, 2018

2018 was a pleasant year for Keith and me, as we took it easy while I continued healing from the leg break I suffered in 2017. In keeping with that, we went on as many hikes as possible, as well as an excellent vacation in Malibu.

Indigo Springs Apartments

After spending a year sharing an apartment with Michael (and, a half-year with Michael and his friend Roman), Keith and I decided to move into our own apartment. But we liked Michael's apartment complex; so we got another, one-bedroom, apartment at the same place: Indigo Springs Apartments.

Life in the Time of Coronavirus

Was it a Chinese plot? Was the Illuminati behind it? Did utterly incompetent leadership make it worse? The answers to these questions are irrelevant, because we've got it, it's here, and the population of the Earth is spending a few weeks or months or years "hunkering down", isolating ourselves to slow the spread of the new coronavirus, COVID-19.

Aging Gratefully

Starting with my coming out of the closet, I've made my life an open book on these pages. It may seem self-serving, but that's not actually the reason I keep it up.

The first reason is to give my grandkids an insight into how it was to live and grow up in the 20th Century and the opening decades of the 21st. The second is to reach out to folks who may be going through some of the things I have, and who could benefit from reading that they aren't in this all alone, after all.

So, now that I've started into my seventies, and since I have concluded my Coronavirus blog, I've created this new section of web site, where I plan to complain about aches and pains but also about my triumphs and overcomings of my age-related health.