Just Open Up and Let It Come Out

Far too often, I find myself wanting desperately to give people advice they don’t necessarily want from me.  Sadly, many of these people are fictional, but it does not stop me from wanting to save them from themselves.  That’s just one of the downfalls of being an avid reader of fiction.

Right now, I am listening to a novel about a couple of senseless sisters whose avoidance tactics have not only ruined their lives, but also the lives of their daughters and granddaughters.  It seems that the steadfast stubborn-as-a-mule trait of keeping unnecessary secrets runs pretty strongly in this family.

See, Sister #1 runs away with Sister #2’s boyfriend to escape their brutal stepfather who is sexually abusing her.  The plan is that once they are safely in Chicago, #1 and the BF will send a letter and train ticket to Sister #2 so she can join them in Chicago, and they can all live happily ever after.

Only Sister #2 won’t open the many letters that her sister sends her because she is mad at her and instead burns them all unopened.  

I know I’m supposed to willingly suspend my disbelief in these situations but I still want my fictional characters to act in a way that makes some semblance of sense.  How could she resist?  Wasn't she even the least bit curious about what her sister had to say?  Of course, if Sister #2 were in Pandora’s place, I guess we wouldn’t have any evil in the world. 

"Now if you had just opened that damn letter, you and generations of your family wouldn’t be in this miserable mess, would you?”  I find myself telling Sister #2 over and over again.

As for those tight-lipped younger generation members I implore them, in my finest Irish brogue, to "Just open your mouth and let it come out" channeling Mrs. Paroo from The Music Man. 

Let me tell you all this secret-telling would never fly among my sisters.  It's not that we can't keep secrets if we have to.  You might remember that very recently I kept the secret that my son was going to propose to his girlfriend for 100 long days.  No, it's just that there are too many of us to keep track of who knows what.  It's just easier to tell each other everything. 

Well I could go on but I really want to get back to the book.   I did not travel through 70 years as  told through the viewpoints of seven different women (so far) to stop reading before I find out whether any one of these gals actually bucks up and has an honest conversation with someone.

The Right Stuf

The rats who scored the Oreo study gig at Connecticut College must have been pretty happy about it.  I imagine them exchanging high fives all the way to the lab, and saying things like "No, really, I'm not joking. They actually just want us to eat Oreo cookies."  It must have been like hitting the lab rat lottery.

It seems the burning question spreading through the halls of academia was "Are Oreos addictive?"   Well, of course they are.  I could have told them that without a study.  Anyone who ever had a box of Oreos in the house could tell them just how impossible it was to resist them.  Clearly the researchers must have grown up in one of those sad little households where sweets were strictly forbidden.

However the study also showed that Oreos are as addictive as cocaine or morphine, because eating them triggered a powerful pleasure response in the rats similar to the drugs.  I don't believe this.  

Cookies and the corner piece of the cake with all the icing have always been my drugs of choice, but once I was given morphine for the pain when I was in the hospital after breaking my pelvis.  As happy as Oreos have made me, it was nothing compared to the euphoria afforded me by that morphine.  

Morphine is so addictive that they won't let you have it after you leave the hospital (I know, because I asked).  Oreos can be purchased in large quantities at the local supermarket, and in tasty treats offered in many food establishments.  I didn't do a study or anything, but I've never heard of anyone overdosing on Oreos, having actual physical withdrawal symptoms if Giant Eagle is out of them or turning to a life of crime in order to support their Oreo habit.  As far as I can see, the only danger of eating too many Oreos is becoming fat and happy.

One thing this study did teach me was that laboratory rats and I have more in common that I thought.  

When given a choice between an Oreo cookie and a rice cake, the rats always went straight to the Oreo cookie.  I'm with the rodents here.  There is no rice cake in the world than could win out over an Oreo with me.  Seriously, couldn't the researchers come up with some more compelling, non-sweet food item - like Shrimp Scampi-to put up against the Oreo in a taste test for rats?

Furthermore, the rats all opened up the cookie and ate the cream first.  That is exactly how I always ate my Oreo cookies!  As a child my one and only complaint about Oreos was that they didn't have enough cream in them.  I was an adult when Nabisco (who clearly did a little research of their own over the years) came up with Double Stuf Oreos, which meant that other people must have wanted more cream just like me, and the rats.

All this talk has just made me hungry for some Double Stuf Oreos, which I typically don't keep in the house because, you know, they're addictive.  

For more information about the study, and a photo of some researchers with one fat and happy rat, check out:  http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/answer-sheet/wp/2013/10/18/rats-find-oreos-as-addictive-as-cocaine-an-unusual-college-research-project/

Another Saturday in the Burgh

                                      

Mr. Rip and I were meeting our son and his fiancee for lunch at the Sonoma Grille in downtown Pittsburgh this past Saturday.  We decided to make a day of it because we had two admissions to the Heinz History Center we'd been meaning to use.  

I thought as long as we were down there anyway, we might as well take a walk down to Point State Park and see the duck, as preposterous as I thought it was that there was a 40-foot-tall duck docked in Pittsburgh's rivers.

The History Center was first on the day's itinerary.  While I hadn't been there in several years I always love a visit to this museum.  Its beautifully designed displays are all about Pittsburgh, which conveniently happens to be my favorite city and my hometown.  

We saw the very impressive Western Pennsylvania Sports Museum (a museum within a museum) for the first time.  This is a real treat even for those with the most passing interest in sports.  It featured sports like bocce ball and rowing right alongside all things Pirates, Steelers and Penguins, and had a whole section that explored what actually constitutes a sport.  Fascinating stuff.

But the highlight of the visit to me was the special exhibit featuring the artistry of Pittsburgh native Burton Morris.  Morris' Pop Art is so called not just because of the genre he works in, but because his art captures pop cultural themes and the bright colors and techniques he uses make the images he produces pop off the canvas, sometimes literally (in the traditional sense of that word).  I couldn't get enough of it - I loved one image more the next.  Burton Morris' art made me very very happy.

Next up was the day's raison d'être - lunch with JJ and his lovely lady.  It was the first time we saw them since their engagement. It was wonderful sharing their excitement, hearing about the very beginning of their planning process, and of course seeing the beautiful ring on her finger, where it clearly belongs. Our happiness grew watching their joy.

Just in case we forgot we were in Pittsburgh while we were there, a Slovak group was having a Beer Tasting with entertainment by an accordion player in the restaurant while we lunched. 

Then we were off to see the 40 foot tall rubber duck that the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust brought to town to kick off its Festival of Firsts. Pittsburgh is the first city in the United States to host the duck, which is the brainchild of Dutch artist Florentijn Hofman.(http://www.newpittsburghcourieronline.com/index.php/featured-news/metro/17748-40-foot-rubber-duck-arrives-in-pittsburgh)

The only reason that the Duck wasn't the biggest news in the Burgh this October was because the Pirates were in the playoffs. People are flocking to the Point to see the Duck and get their picture taken with it.  Pictures of it are EVERYWHERE. I couldn't believe all the fuss over what is essentially just a big rubber ducky.  Frankly, I thought it was all kind of ridiculous.

However, since we were downtown anyway, I thought we should check it out - you know because it was there, and so I could say that I did.  It was a beautiful day so if nothing else it would be a nice walk. The closer we got to the Point the more people we saw milling around.  Mr. Rip wanted to know what all these people were doing downtown.

They were there for the duck.  People from all walks of life -young and old, couples of all ages, families with young children, extended families, groups of teenagers, all ethnicities. If you didn't know any better you might think that Pittsburgh was a thriving, multicultural metropolitan area. Everyone was in a really good mood; it was the most pleasant crowd I've ever been in.

We made the acquaintance of another couple who couldn't quite believe they were there for the duck and we took each other's pictures with the duck. We walked all the way around Point State Park again for the first time in a long time, soaking in the beautiful panoramic views of the North Shore, the South Side, and of course those three rivers, and appreciating them anew. 

The whole day just made me smile.  Hofman has said that the duck has "healing properties" (Ibid). Maybe it does, but so does spending a day with your favorite people in Pittsburgh celebrating everything that it is.

Just a Building

When I heard that the parish where I grew up was demolishing my former high school - my alma mater - I was like Priscilla Lopez in A Chorus Line.  I felt nothing.

The building in question was no longer St. Anselm High School when they decided it needed to come down.  It  was only used as a high school for about 20 years, and graduated its last class 35 years ago.  Reportedly the building had some major problems that made it unusable, including a problem with asbestos, and the parish could not afford the repairs it needed.

They also tore down the freestanding gym, which had an unfinished ceiling of fully- exposed fluffy asbestos which would fall in clumps onto our heads when a lot of physical activity took place in the building where our gym classes and basketball games were held. I'm pretty sure that the gym was never technically usable.  The physical activity they forced onto me there was bad enough; the asbestos falling on me while it happened was like pouring salt into the wound.  I couldn't really be sorry about the gym coming down.

To me ultimately they were both just buildings.  When buildings are destroyed through acts of terrorism or through natural disasters like hurricanes or tornados, especially when accompanied by loss of life or the loss of people's homes, that is tragic. But when an unoccupied building that happened to be my high school 35 years ago comes down I can't really get that excited about it.

All of this has had me thinking a lot about my high school years.  I can't say they were the best years of my life, because I'm in the best years of my life (which began in my mid-forties) right now.  I actually feel sorry for people who experienced their best years in high school, because for them life went downhill after the age of 18.  

High school may well have been the longest four years of my life, though.  So much happened to me, and to my friends, in those years.  Some of it was good, some of it was bad, but it was all very eventful.  If you asked me, I could write a book -or at least a couple of blogs - about my high school years. Actually, come to think of it, it might make a pretty good mini-series.

When I do think back on high school, I don't think about a building.  The people with whom I shared my high school experience come to mind.  The good, the bad, and the eccentric teachers. My friends and all my classmates, some of whom weren't friends at all. Some of my best friends today I met in kindergarten and we were in school together through 12th grade.  

I have reconnected with many friends from high school in recent years, and because of social media we are able to stay connected in ways that just weren't possible when we graduated.  We meet for dinner, get together for casual mini-reunions at Sparky's Spot, (a great little family restaurant owned by one of my old neighbors and classmates), and of course keep in touch on Facebook, where we share life events and photos from all over the world.  

Many of my friends and fellow St. A's alums are much more upset about the high school and the gym coming down than I am, and I feel badly for them and their pain.  But among the countless photos they are posting on Facebook featuring the high school and the gym before, during and after destruction there are photos of us when we were there.  

The class photos from grade school. The French Club photos.  A group of us on Senior Day when we got to leave our uniforms at home and wear "regular" clothes (which turned out to be colorful mini-dresses for most of the girls).  The picture of my friend and me going to the Prom with hairdos that I suppose were fashionable at the time. And a couple of pictures from one of my favorite high school memories of all- one of our English Department field trips to the Shakespeare Festival in Stratford, Ontario, which happened in Canada far from that high school building in Swissvale, 

In the one French Club photo, my eye fell on my pretty friend Debbie, one of my best friends who started attending St. A's with us in the fifth grade.  Debbie and I remained close friends as adults and stayed in touch even when we lived in different states without the help of today's social media. We lost Debbie seven years ago. I would give you any building on earth to have her back.

 

For good homemade food at reasonable prices check out Sparky's Spot (owned by St. Anselm alum Joe Schaffer) on Route 8 in the Glenshaw/Allison Park area-  http://www.jjnkids.com.