What was Old is New again

A couple of days ago I found out that my childhood home is up on the market again. This is the one we sold last August.

At the time our real estate agent thought the buyers were getting it because it was so close to the Pacific East Mall, in Richmond. But, it turns out they must've been nothing but a couple of flippers.

I guess it was providence that I Googled the address on Friday as the first Open House took place today. Considering the brisk seller's market, It was likely now or never to see the transformation.

* * *

I use transformation akin to a transformation from a caterpillar into a butterfly.

They'd basically restuccoed the entire outside, because they had a whole bunch of wood rot to deal with, and all the windows were replaced, with all but two being moved from their original location.

Mind you this was a house built in 1949, yet they chose to use that rough stucco outside, which has been the trend on many buildings in the last couple of decades.

I was surprised they didn't put up the faux shutters around the windows, and the scalloped main living room window was replaced with a somewhat smaller cookie cutter square window, with no sill. Honestly, it looked unfinished.

On the bright side, the front yard was landscaped with fresh tanbark, and most of the foliage was gone, making it look a lot cleaner and bigger.

As we entered the house, the first thing we were greeted with was brand new flooring and NO wall between the living room and kitchen.

Truthfully, this is one of the things I'd pondered when I had visions of remodeling the house to live in. But, it was fascinating to see. I was a little surprised at the size of the kitchen window. With the great view of the Golden Gate Bridge, I would have went one size wider myself.

As we went room by room, there were newly sheet rocked walls, freshly painted a stark white, which brightened up the place considerably. Cabinets were supposedly all custom made. But, the ones in the bedrooms looked like standard laminated shelving, which could have just as easily came from Home Depot.

Downstairs finally got its bathroom; something that had been sorely lacking. I always hated having to make the trek from the very bottom of the house to the upper level every time I needed to use the bathroom or take a shower!

The lower "family room" had been turned into another bedroom, with the closet being exchanged for a slightly raised small alcove large enough for a full-sized bed. You still had the double-glass patio doors, which surprised me a bit.

The deck was downsized to half of what it was. But, the new one doesn't shake like the 1970s era one did, and has proper pier restraints to the ground.

Oddly, they only landscaped half the backyard, leaving the lower section by the freeway sound wall a small weed patch. I had to laugh as one of the grape vines I'd planted had poked through the fresh tanbark in back and was now a couple feet tall.

I scratched my head on why they didn't spend the extra money to install a solar electrical system, given there's such a large roof with unfettered access to the Sun, and they put a brand new roof on anyways?

Adding to all these changes mentioned were a sewer lateral and electrical wiring; basically meaning this was a "new" house compared to what stood there only eight months ago.

* * *

Leaving I said a silent "good-bye" to Tigger and the house in general. Unlike last August there was no crying and depression. OK so maybe a very little smidge of depression which was gone as soon as I walked out the front door. Perhaps it was more catharsis, than anything else.

It was good to see the transformation, even though I might not have done everything that was done. But, I think my sister and I left with a good feeling that whomever buys the house will have years of enjoyment before the next remodeling, 30 years hence.

(I was EXTREMELEY happy that they didn't chop it into two units, which was the fate for the houses to our immediate left and right.)

Click on the photo below to see the current RedFin listing:

My Son was bullied last week!

My son was bullied last week at his football game!!
That's what a Texas parent is claiming.

Was it in the stands? No.
Was it when he was using the bathroom? No.
Was it walking home from the game? No.
Was it on the football field itself? YES!

Did players from the opposing team taunt him? No.
Did players physically beat him more than what's normal in football? No.

According to complaints filed, the Aledo coaches bullied their son by allowing the score to get so lopsided.

The Ft. Worth-Western Hills High Cougars walked into a buzz saw when traveling to a road game against the Aledo High Bearcats. Final score was 91-0. Y'OUCH!!

Take my comments with as much salt as you want. I am not a child psychologist. But, I have been members of a few team sports which, frankly, weren't very good.

* * *

Aledo is currently ranked 24th in the ENTIRE nation (4th in Texas). FW-WH is ranked 10,812 in the nation. (To give you some perspective our Albany High Cougars are ranked 13,701 in the nation, while the perennial powerhouse De La Salle Spartans are 8th in the nation)

FW-WH has not won a single game this season (currently 0-7). The first three games this season, they lost 61-7, 62-10, 63-0. Aledo has outscored their opponents 485-47 so far this season.

By the end of the 1st Quarter the score was 28-0, and Aledo coach Tim Buchanan had pulled his starting players. By Halftime the score was 56-0.

Game officials implemented a running game clock in the Second Half, meaning that the clock keeps ticking regardless of whether someone goes out of bounds, or not. (FWIW, it was 77-0 at the end of the 3rd Quarter).

*  *  *

I get that they had the tar kicked out of them. I get that it's no fun being beaten up like that. I get that the poor kids must be counting the days till the season mercifully ends. But I don't get how a 91-0 score equates to bullying.

In an interview on Dallas-Ft. Worth's NBC5, Coach Buchanan sounded generally humble. He said they could have easily scored more, and that he was concerned the score might break 100.

Normally, that might sound like smug bragging. But, the way he said it, made him sound almost embarrassed.

Another thing Buchanan said is very important. He doesn't want to get to a point where he tells his players to not play 100%.

From my experiences playing sports, it's an important fact that if you pull up and don't give your all you're risking the chance of injuring yourself because your opponent isn't holding back.

In a hockey game once, I pulled back because the guy skating at me was about half my size, and I knew we were going to collide. Well, I got rocked good, with my heels flying out from under me and my head hitting the ice. (Thank God for helmets!!)

So now Aledo High School administrators are tasked with having to investigate its coaching staff for bullying. This will also go to the Texas Education Agency for review.

Here's what they consider bullying:

Aggressive behavior that involves unwanted, negative actions. Bullying involves a pattern of behavior repeated over time. Bullying involves an imbalance of power or strength.

I could be really sarcastic and say all three of those things certainly happened. But, making light of such very serious charges wouldn't be right.

So did that 91-0 score REALLY constitute bullying on the part of Buchanan and his staff?

No. Especially after the way FW-WS has been playing this year. Add to that, their records from the last two season; 3-7 and 3-7; and it suggests FW-WS simply isn't a very good football team.

Would it have been better to invoke a mercy ruling and end the game early? (Currently, a rule in about 38 states only. Texas, not being one of them.)

From a player's perspective….HELL NO!!

It's very likely that most, if not all, of the FW-WH players won't be continuing on in football beyond high school. Cutting short games just means you're cutting their playing time and it emphasizes the "Winning IS Everything" mentality even more.

Way back in Little League, the poor Albany Redlegs were getting swamped by the Albany Mets. Albany Little League had a mercy ruling that if the score reached a certain point, the game would be ended.

I think they lasted something like three innings before the game was called. All the Redlegs' players felt bad since they weren't getting to play all seven innings, especially the one player who didn't even get to play a single pitch of the game….ME!!!

In all fairness to Coach Kenny, I wasn't a very good baseball player, having made contact with the ball only once in all my at bats before a knee injury, suffered while playing tennis, mercifully knocked me out of commission.

But, I still remember that game 30-something years later and how I sat there hoping to get a chance to play. But, I never blamed Coach Kenny, suggesting he kept me out on purpose. Neither did my parents.

Years later, when I played hockey there were a couple of teams that had players who clearly played in a division below where they should have, so they routinely scored tons of goals against us.

We routinely accused them of "slumming" to run their personal stats up. But, we never accused them of bullying!

* * *

As long as children are going to be involved in competitive sports there are going to be good teams and bad teams. There are going to be close scores and blowouts.

Suggesting to your sons and daughters that the other team and/or coaches are bullying them because the score got lopsided is even worse than if you accused the other team of cheating, and does nothing more than emphasize the end result, and not the taking part, which is what 99% of us can ever take solace in.

* * *

On a positive side, FW-WH needs to keep their heads up. Their final game of the year is against the Wyatt High Chaparrals, the only team lower in the standings than themselves, and who also lost to Aledo…

84-7

A Whole in My Heart

As I write this I shortly leave for my last walk over to my childhood home as an owner.

I know it's ridiculously over dramatic to suggest I feel like one of the inmates in The Green Mile. But, it is what it is, and it's perhaps one mile away, so it fits and I'm going to keep it.

Someone once suggested we should just sell it, and be done with it; as I was squandering money by having it just sit there.

Squander rolled off their tongue like a fine honey slowly dripping onto a slice of ripe apple. A heavenly treat for the eyes and taste buds at the same time.

Ironically, it's appraised now about the same as it was back then, so on that aspect it was a wash.

After my parents' passing I had visions of doing just that; only, to face challenges of time, money and, to be frank, will-power at times.

The inevitable has finally come, albeit 13 years later, and shortly after 4pm we hand over the keys.

Sadly, years have taken it's toll, and the house is a faded rose. Whomever the next owner is, will have to dedicate a lot of money to restore the home to its former glory.

* * *

In truth I've lived more time at other locations than I have in that building. But, it was the first place I have any memories of, and some are as crystal clear as if they just happened a few minutes ago.

• The sweet cherry tomato plants that spread like a spider web over a 6' x 6' planter bed and into the walk way, because my father didn't use a tomato cage to trellis them.
• Replacing the old, diseased peach tree with several dwarf trees, back in the early 1970s.
  • This included a Satsuma Plum, which is still producing fruit to this day, despite dwarves supposedly petering out after 10 years back then.
• My painting on the patio area (with water), only to have the brush slip from my hands and fly through a window; and then my reaching through the hole for the soon to be obvious unreachable brush.
  • Then the emergency room visit to Brookside Hospital for stitches on my left wrist. (I still carry a scare which has led to more an one conversation, where I've had to explain it wasn't a failed suicide attempt).
• The handful of neighborhood friends playing in old Fort Eldrich, which my father cobbled together out of scrap redwood, back when redwood wasn't a commodity you could simply walk into any Home Depot to buy (there WASN'T Home Depot back then!!)
  • The name was a contraction of El Cerrito and Richmond, which I stuck a D in for no particular reason.
• My father, the school teacher, deciding one year that every month my sister and I would have a home-work assignment on some foreign country, and he'd bring home a real 16mm movie print to project in the kitchen as we ate Swanson International Menu TV dinners.
  • My personal favorite was the German Style Dinner.
• The cranky neighbor complaining that he saw 27 cats sunning themselves on our patio roof one day (we had TWO cats).
  • That same cranky neighbor helping us get Tigger out of the front yard's stand of 10'+ tall birch trees by squirting her with a garden hose, and her immediately falling like a rock.

Those were amongst the good memories and ones that came forth as I was writing this blog entry. (YES, in a macabre way, I have included the wrist slashing, amongst the Good).

Of course, I have some not so fond memories. But, those are for another time because I'd prefer not to dwell on the dark side right now.

I had better sign off now so that I have plenty of time for what must be done today, since it cannot be done tomorrow.

Lord please help my camera batteries have enough charge so that I can take at least one photo of each room.

* * *

For those preparing to send me an email correcting my spelling…Please don't.

It was a typo, which I had already corrected, only to put it back a minute later. Memories of one's childhood home are part of your whole heart, and cannot be erased so, I decided to run with that.

Remembrances of Easters gone by

Actress, writer, and fellow Albany Patch blogger, Michele Strider, today shared a blog of hers from a couple of years ago, regarding her experiences with Easter and how, when she was growing up, she used to behead rabbits because she thought it was humane.

Don't freak out. She was talking about the chocolate variety…not the ones that go hippity hop across Mrs. McGregor's carrot patch. Same thing for Peeps apparently.

I commented about how I used to start on the tips of the ears and slowly work my way down the head, jokingly asking whether that was torture?

This got me thinking about Easter when I was growing up. Dare I say, a wee bit longer ago than Michele.

* * *

Maybe I'm just not looking at the right place. But, pretty much all the big chocolate bunnies they're selling these days seem to be made from hollow milk chocolate. Sure, there was the one oddball I saw at Safeway, which was six inches of solid milk chocolate (and tasted so good!!). But, that seemed to be a maverick.

Where have all the big bunnies gone that were filled with the delicious ooey gooey goodness like when I was a kid? They were enough to make you sick if you kept eating, and you knew that. But, you just couldn't help yourself!

One year I got one of those stuffed bunnies. I swear that thing must've been a full foot tall; every inch filled with fluffy goodness. Can we say, "SUGAR SHOCK?!?!?" 

Then there were those first Cadbury Eggs our parents bought us. I'm not talking about the industrial glop they pass off these days. I'm talking eggs filled with a smooth creamy filling more a kin to what you get inside a Milky way Bar.

It's probably not just my imagination. But, it just seems that the bulk processed candies made today just don't taste the same as back then.

Of course, See's Candies is still going strong. You're going to pay a price, and it's probably too expensive for most, except for the occasional holiday like Valentine's or Mother's Day.

Sadly, gone is Hooper's Chocolates, the long-time Oakland Chocolatier, in the pretty pink building on Telegraph Avenue. While the building is still there, it's now occupied by a couple of 20-something skateboarders, selling stuff far removed from what made the building famous.

* * *

Chocolate isn't the only thing I fondly think back to. Just like the children of today, my sister and I experienced many an Easter Egg hunt during our youth.

Back in the 1970s, one of my aunts lived about a half dozen blocks away and on sometimes we'd go over for a family get together.

Her kids were a few years older than us so they drew the chore of keeping us busy inside the house while the adults were busy in the backyard going about hiding hardboiled eggs all over her big yard.

They'd eventually come and get us, and we'd go wild looking for eggs. They had lots of succulents and leafy plants, and you had to look closely, or you'd easily miss your treasure.

Another hunt I look back on took place in the Richmond Annex's Central Park, virtually around the corner from where we grew up.

Parks & Rec had an official Easter Egg hunt one year. Older kids would hunt real eggs over on the baseball field. While, those of us who were younger, were stuck in a 20' x 20' sandy area, where they hid plastic wrapped candy eggs.

As I remember it, there were only a dozen, or so, of us running around. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Everywhere you looked, the shiny candies stood out from the plain tan sand. We were all happily filling our little baskets, and it looked like we would all make it out with a big haul.

But then it happened!

I can't remember whether I ran into something, or tripped up in the sand. My haul of eggs went absolutely everywhere!! Kids being kids, the others turned on me like sharks after a wounded seal pup.

I wasn't physically hurt, but I was mentally scared from watching my sister and the kids across the street scoop up over half of what I'd previously had sitting in my basket.

Later on, I told my parents what had happened, and they coerced my sister into giving me back some of what she'd grabbed. But still, a pre-teen's feelings bruise easily. I've forgiven her over the years, but I still remember! <grin!>

* * *

Our mother used to love it when Easter came around every year, because she got to dye Easter Eggs with us. I'm not sure who got a bigger kick out it, her or us kids.

I think part of that stems from the fact that her parents were originally from Russia, and as is fairly well known, Russians and Ukrainians are World famous for their ornately decorated Easter Eggs.

I can still smell the hot water and vinegar used to liquefy the little Paas pellets. My favorite was the Robin's Egg Blue.

You would balance a hard-boiled egg on a wire hoop, before sinking it into the dye for 30-60 seconds. You'd then carefully lift the egg out, and let it dry.

If you wanted to get fancy, you could wrap the egg with twine, or drip hot wax over parts of it, before plunking it into some other color. Once you were satisfied with the dye job, you'd peel off the twine and wax to reveal your masterpiece.

I'm sure they really looked like a hot mess. But, to us kids they were real works of art.

In fact, I always wanted to keep mine in the fridge and look at them from time to time. Of course, being hard boiled eggs, they didn't last, and eventually started stinking up the refrigerator something awful.

Nowadays, since I have no children of my own, eggs are pretty much relegated to Egg Salad Sandwiches and the occasional Bacon and Egg breakfast.

It's a little sad just thinking of that, so perhaps I'll look to pick up some Paas at a deep post-Easter discount while I'm trying to score on left over holiday candy!!