How Grand Children Can Throw You Under The Bus

When my grand daughter was about three she was staying with us for a few days. Easter was that Sunday. My daughter and son-in-law were coming up on Sunday to spend Easter with us and they would then take my grand daughter home. It was a great time for us, Michaella brings us such joy.

I was singing the song Peter Cotton Tail to her each day hoping that she would learn it before her mom and dad arrived. I sang the song over and over, and made her repeat it each time.  On Saturday I started singing It again, she said. “Nonna, stop singing that song all the time, your aggravating me.

“But I want you to remember it so you can sing it to your mommy and daddy tomorrow.”

“I remember it. I can sing it, so no more singing.”

“OK.” I promised. Sunday arrived along with my daughter and her husband. Michaella came running down the stairs to greet her parents. “I am looking for eggs that the Easter Bunny hid in Nonna’s house.” she said with a big smile. She kissed and hugged her parents and off she went. After the egg hunt and the opening of the Easter basket I started to put the dinner on the table. Michaella was showing her parents all of her goodies. We were all chatting away and I said. “I taught Michaella a song this week.”

“You did?.” my daughter replied.

“Yes and she is going to sing it for you.”

“Do you still remember the song sweetheart?” I asked my grand daughter.

“Yes Nonna, you sang it a thousand times.” We all laughed.

“Sing it for daddy and mommy,” my daughter said.

This is how it went.

“Here comes Peter Cockin Tail hopping down the bunny trail.”

“WHAT did you say,” my daughter said with a shocked look on her face. My grand daughter stopped and looked at her mother and said. “Nonna taught me the song about the Easter Bunny Peter Cockin Tail.”

Needless to say we all laughed until tears streamed our faces. When I corrected her and said, “no it’s COT TON tail.”

“No you told me Cockin Tail.” was her reply.

The moral of this story is; Be very careful how you pronounce your words to a three year old.


Angel Dear


Littlest angel ever so near,

my heart is weeping, can you hear.

I held you in my arms

and felt your breath upon my cheek,

I gently kissed your face you were just so weak.

Your little hand held mine,

your face was so divine,

I looked into your eyes,

you looked back into mine.

As your life ebbed away and the night

turned to day I held you close to me,

you reached your tiny hand up and

touched me with a sigh, you smiled

a little smile for me as if to say goodbye.

Littlest angel ever so near

my heart is weeping, can you hear.


Time period early 1800’s. Place Lithuania. There were two families that were feuding over a piece of land. A woman from one family puts a curse on the other family. Her name was Gheta she was known to have special powers. Some even called her a witch. She went to talk to Antonia from the other family.  Antonia was not afraid of Gheta she did not believe any of the stories she was told about Gheta. Many women in the village had told Antonia, all was true and to beware and not to make Gheta angry.  Land was important to these people it was a symbol of wealth.  Gheta tried to explain that the land had belonged to her father and since he passed away it now belonged to her. Antonia told her that the land had always been in her family and her husband Otto and her were not giving a worthless bum like her husband Gerlog and his worthless son’s any land.  ” You call my son’s worthless?”

” Yes and your husband too.”

” You BITCH.” Gheta said.

” Get out of my home.” Antonia replied.

” I curse you.” said Gheta. ” Your husband and all of his brothers will die within one year of each other.  All the first son’s will die within one year of each other, forever. None will ever live to see their 70th year. Until the land is returned to my family.”

” Go to Hell.” said Antonia.

Gheta stared at Antonia her blue eyes turn almost black and a shiver went down her spine. She got up from the table and opened the door and told Gheta to get out. As Gheta left she looked at Antonia and said. ” You are making a mistake, and you will ruin your family for generations.”

“Hmpf,” was Antonia’s only reply, but the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Neither family ever spoke to each other again.

The years passed Antonia’s first child Kurt got married and within a year Antonia was a grandmother to a beautiful baby boy. Her son and his wife named him Otto after his grandfather. The family celebrated.

Two years later Antonia’s husband died. Antonia was grief stricken. Her son Kurt and his family moved in with Antonia to work the land and keep it fruitful.

One year to the day Otto’s brother Yan died. The year after that his brother Edmund died.

Antonia was beside herself, the curse was coming true. She went to see Gheta to beg her to take the curse off the family. When she arrived at Gheta’s house she was told Gheta had died that morning.

Antonia’s son, and both of his cousins who were the first son’s of their family died within one year of each other before the age of 70.

Antonia told her son about the curse and begged him to give the land to Gheta’s family, but he told her to stop being superstitious and he was not giving the family land away for such nonsense. She was ashamed and carried that curse with her to the grave.

To this day any male that is related by blood to Antonia and her husband Otto all have died before they were 70 and if they had any brothers the brothers died within one year of each other. All of their first son’s died before they were 70 and all within one year of each other.

In the year 2000 someone did a genealogy of their family and discovered the story written by Antonia in her bible all those years ago. They traveled to Lithuania to find the land and even if they had to buy it they would. It turns out that the boarders were changed and the land could not be purchased. I know this because I am part of that family.





The Versitile Blogger Award

It’s Award’s Season!

Versatile Blogger Award


Thank you to, KIM GOSSLIN  for nominating my blog for the Versatile Blogger Award.  This is an esteemed honor indeed.  Thank you very much.

The rules of this award are as follows:  I must tell my readers seven random facts about myself.  For better or worse, here they are….

1    I love to eat bread and pasta, not much for sweets.

2    I hate to go to the movie because I fall asleep.

3    I snore, but I wear Breathe Right tabs.

4    I hate wearing dresses, but love wearing high heels.

5    I might have OCD, at least that’s what I’m told.

6   I love to make people laugh.

7   I am really just a big softie.


The seven blogs I nominate for this award are:


http://On Becoming a Wordsmith

http://Sacred Touches


http://Defeat Despair

http://Quirky Chrissy

http://S.J. Thomas’s Book Blurbs

http://Karen Soutar

Many thanks to you.



Being a Teenager in the 50’s

Being a teen in the 50’s was not the same as current day, especially when your father was German and your mother was Italian. My father never spanked us but he was the champion of punishment.

This is one example: Late June 1956 I was 13 and just finishing my first year of High School. There was only about a week or so to go and I could not wait for school to end. No homework to do nightly, no studying for quiz’s or tests, nothing to do but have fun. Until school was out my curfew was 9:30pm. as long as all my chores and homework was complete. We, my sisters and friends were making plenty of plans for the beach, the Aquacade, movies, and anything we could think of. We had grand ideas, of course our parents all had to agree to all of this, but we had high hopes. I figured if we shot ten ideas at them they would maybe agree to about three or four of them. I was determined to get up extra early, do my chores and have a great summer. After all I was a teenager now and I knew it all.

Before school let out I had to be in by 9:30pm as I said. This one night we were all sitting on my friends stoop talking to some boys that lived on our block. Billy V. was among them and I had a huge crush on him. My father and mother were usually sleeping by the time we got home and it was very close to my curfew. I really did not want to leave. I knew if I missed curfew there would be consequences, but that was if I was caught. Yes I shamefully admit I did on occasion get in a little after 9:30. The one thing you have to understand is that in those days we had only one clock in the house. My father did have a wrist watch but he took it off when he got home from work and had to set and wind it in the morning. Our one clock sat on top of our refrigerator. Being that my parents were asleep when we got home if I was  five or ten minutes late I would turn the clock back to 9:30 because I knew my father would get up after I was in and I would hear him go into the kitchen then go back to bed. When I heard him snoring again I would tip-toe to the kitchen and fix the time. This was one of those knights. It was about 9:40 or so when I quietly entered the back door to the kitchen and tip-toed over to the refrigerator. I had to get on my tip-toes to reach the clock, but it was possible. With thoughts of Billy on my mind and the up coming summer I was in seventh heaven. I turned the dial to curfew time and smiled. I then turned to go to my room and wound up nose to nose with my dad. I swear I never heard him coming. He was staring at me I didn’t know weather to shit or go blind. “Uh, Uh, Umm, Uh, hi dad,” was all I could manage.

“Get to bed” was his reply. I figured I was dead. I tossed and turned all night thinking about my fate. I had disobeyed a rule. God I wanted to kill Billy V., it was all his fault. When my sisters came in (there curfew was ten. They were a bit older than me.) I told them about what happened.

” We told you not to do that,” my oldest sister said.

” Boy, you are dead. I’m glad I am not in your shoes,” my other sister said, and started laughing.

Morning finally arrived. It was a beautiful sunny day, but I felt a big black cloud hanging over my head. I went into the kitchen. I expected my mother to start yelling at me, nothing. She was her usual happy self, she never even mentioned it. My spirits lifted a little. I went off to school and figured my dad was letting it go. God how lucky can you get, he was finally realizing that ten minutes was no big deal. ALRIGHT! I thought, ” Thank you God.” I said out loud. I was a little nervous entering the house after school, but my mom was fine. I was thrilled. I didn’t even complain when she told me to help her and then set the table. I did it with a smile. I heard my father’s car pull up. My stomach did a flip, but when he came in the house he just said ” high girls.” He acted like nothing happened. I was thrilled. I ran into my sister’s room to let them know I had dodged death. We all went into the kitchen to eat dinner. Some small talk at the table, but only the usual. I looked for sign’s but nothing. When dinner was over I was ready to run, actually I felt I could fly out the door to meet my friends. My sisters and I had to clear the table and do the dishes and then we could go. I said ” Come on girls, let’s get the dishes done, I am suppose to meet Lucille soon.” My father said. ” Arlene and Denni you can go. Your sister Patti will be doing the dishes tonight and every night until school starts again, and the reason for this is that she is a sneak and a liar and please tell her friends she will not be meeting them after dinner until September.”

Yes folks, I was not allowed out after dinner for the whole summer. I tried to talk my parents out of this horrible punishment, but to no avail.

” Maybe this will teach you to respect the rules in this house young lady, and I want you to know that your mother and I were going to extend you curfew, but you are not mature enough for that, so maybe next year.”

Those were the day’s folks. I could not wait for school to start…….