Monty

1997-2012

Of Staplers and Lies

The first lie I remember telling – the first one with knowing, deceptive intent behind it (beyond just the white lie fibbing of telling Mom “no” when you did something wrong and you really did do it) – was sometime around second grade. I remember one of my classmates had a mini stapler in his art box, and I was somehow convinced I needed to have one too.

They sold them at the drugstore at the corner of my street, so I knew where to get one and how much it cost and everything. I told my mom I had to have one for school. I remember her being skeptical about the whole additional-item-that-wasn’t-on-the-original-school-supply-list story, but I tried to be as convincing as possible. My mom was a school teacher in the district, so I have to believe my naiveté emboldened me in my lying, otherwise I probably would never have attempted it.

I have fuzzy memories of my mom or dad talking about sending in a note to the teacher about why this mini stapler was necessary or some such, and me dancing around the issue telling them that a note wasn’t necessary and that I really just needed to get this stapler and couldn’t they just give me the money so I could go up to the drugstore and buy it myself and then everything will be fine. Please?

I did end up getting the mini stapler. What I didn’t realize was that the Swingline people had somehow conspired with my parents and found a way to cram a seemingly unending amount of catholic guilt into the box with it! I don’t remember if I have ever confessed to the con before now. It’s as likely that I cracked at some point shortly after acquiring the mini stapler as it is that this is the first time my parents are hearing about my scam. (Of course, being a parent now and having that instinct of knowing when your kid is trying to pull one over on you, I’d be pretty surprised if my parents didn’t at least suspect I was completely making shit up at the time.)

Regardless, the guilty echoes have always remained. (Why else am I writing about it over 30 years later?!) I wish I could remember why that mini stapler was so damn important to second grade me. Ultimately, I have to figure it probably wasn’t worth it.

Christmas ZOOM!

The scanning and cleaning of my family's photo archive continues. Since liberating the multitude of photos from their albums a couple of months ago, I’ve been slowly working my way through the process of scanning and touching up each individual photo. I’m moving chronologically through the rows and rows of my personal history. I finished the stack of photos from 1973 earlier this week. As I whittled down the pile, I was surprised to find this gem among the Christmas pictures… my sister with The ZOOM Catalog I wrote about last month! I didn’t realize she got that as a Christmas gift. Weird how these various artifacts keep intersecting.

And note that the book didn't arrive with the coveted ZOOM sticker already affixed to the cover.

Uninsurable

My sister was visiting last weekend, and we went to see our only living grandparent: our mom's mom.

That’s grandma on the right holding yours truly, and my bratty big sister between her and our grandfather, circa 1970.

She’s 91 years old, lives in the same house she and her first husband purchased in 1942, and is as independent and feisty as hell. While visiting, Karen and I wandered upstairs and into basement, places we hadn’t been through in decades. We talked a bit about what memories have survived and what tangible items are still around. Among the many things I remember about the house is the Evel Knievel Scramble Van. My sister and cousins and I would play with this thing every time we visited. Grandma kept it on the floor of the front door entryway in front of a vintage glass-door cabinet. While walking through the second floor and basement, I kept an eye out for it among the boxes and puzzles and other items accumulated over the last 70 years. Unfortunately, it wasn’t stowed away in either of those places.

On a whim, I decided to look in the entryway before we left to see if anything from my memories remained there. As I turned the corner, that old familiar cabinet came into view. And once my vision cleared the little room, I couldn’t believe what I saw. There it was: The Evel Knievel Scramble Van! Right where it was supposed to be. Right where I had no right expecting it to be. It has inexplicably survived all these years in the exact spot I remembered it being in! I unburied it from a box of candles and other tchotchke and set it on the dining room table to inspect it.

The vinyl sides of the van had that old sticky feeling – that accumulation of decades-worth of being brought to life with a combination of little kids’ imagination and their grimy little hands. The back of the van opens, but one of the tabs was broken. I didn’t see the Evel Knievel action figure or his bike anywhere, but the blue roof ramp was there, along with some other random toys stuffed inside the van – some I recognized from childhood, some that were clearly of a newer vintage.

At some point I need to go back and inspect the van further, perhaps clean it up a bit, and also look for Evel Knievel and his gyro powered stunt cycle and launcher, but in that moment I just snapped a quick photo on my iPhone (as a validation of my memories as much as anything else) before returning it to the place in which it so clearly belongs.

Perfect

Midday yesterday I tweeted that it was "Pretty much a perfect day so far."

Tracy and I took the day off work to hang out with the kiddo and my oldest son, Mikee, who's been visiting this week.

We went out for a late breakfast at First Watch, and while there Tracy and I ordered tickets to take my father-in-law to go see Tony Bennett this Fall.

Then it was off to the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, where we spent a few hours of the gorgeous day marveling at the Blue Heron rookery and hiking the Ledges, the Octagon, and Brandywine Falls. Refreshingly cool under the canopy of trees and among rock formations that were moved into place by glaciers hundreds of thousands of years ago, we couldn’t have asked for better weather.

Country Maid Ice Cream was all that we needed for lunch – kid’s-sized chocolate peanut butter scoop in a cake cone, thankyouverymuch!

We made a couple of stops on the way back to the house, and I snuck in a quick nap while everyone was getting cleaned up for dinner and the evening.

Then it was fabulous sushi at House of Hunan on the square in Medina that was accidentally but perfectly timed with getting to the theater in time for the 6:40 screening of Super 8.

After the movie, the boys discovered the Star Wars marathon on Spike, while Tracy wrapped some Father's Day gifts, and I began capturing my thoughts on seeing Next to Normal the night before and Super 8 that night.

Yesterday felt like a whole weekend in one day, but never rushed or over-planned. We rolled with each other and the weather and were rewarded with a perfect day. They can't all be, but yesterday was.