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Monthly Archives: June 2013

Hot and Sizzling


East Harlem Sunrise (6:35 AM -5 GMT)

East Harlem Sunrise (6:35 AM -5 GMT) (Photo credit: minusbaby)

There are a lot of things that can be Hot and Sizzling.  I could be writing about bacon, a steamy sex scene, a reference to a temperament when angered,  for this purpose hot and sizzling is about the weather.

After a cool, rainy, Spring, the summer solstice brought with it an oppressive summer heat.

Truth be told, for me, it’s not oppressive.  I have been waiting since October, 2012 for this hot air.  And on Long Island the heat is nothing like I remember it  as a child in East Harlem, where the blazing summer sun baked the roof above our heads in that small four room apartment.

In the evening, after the sun sunk across town over the Hudson River, and the black roofing tar settled down from its soft bubbling, the family made its way up one short flight of stairs to catch what ever breeze blew across the building top.  I never remember noticing the smell of hot tar.  I imagine it was very strong, but to me it was just part of the summer odor.  Even today when passing road work or driveway refinishing I am reminded of  those days.

My skin tone reflects my Greek/Sicilian heritage.  As a child I tanned to a deep golden brown without help of oils, creams, or lotions.  This color of mine was achieved by the early part of May.  I recall my father telling me to smile so he could locate me on the flat roof.  There was no artificial light up on that roof, and if I was any distance from where they sat  he declared he needed the white of my teeth to find me.  He was very proud of my coloring as it was exactly like his.  He always looked like he just returned from a Greek Island.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

That roof on 425 East 116th Street was my back yard, my patio, and my picnic area.  I played with my friend Joanie when she was allowed up there, and gossiped with my friend Louise about boys as we hit our teen years.  That roof was the top of my world.  It was also the meeting place for the women who lived from the fourth floor up.  Anyone who lived beneath the fourth floor met by the front stoop on hot summer nights.

I’m a long way from East Harlem in miles, years, and circumstance.  My home with my husband is comfortable, we have a small pool in the back yard, a porch, and patio.  My skin still tans without any help aside from being outdoors to check on the progress of the tomatoes and flowers, or walking on the black top driveway to get to the car.  Its been the cause of much speculation by strangers who  ask me if I’ve just returned from the islands.  It makes me smile.

When its a hot, sizzling day like today and the temperature is flirting with 90 degrees, I’m transported back more than fifty years to that roof top life.  I loved life then and I’m loving it now.

Have a happy summer day!

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Posted by on June 24, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Writer’s Slump


Dr. Slump

Dr. Slump (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It has been over a month since my last post.  I have never been so negligent of this thing that I supposedly love since beginning my blog over two years ago.

Stating all the so call valid reasons why I haven’t been at the key board doesn’t negate the obvious.  I apparently haven’t made time for my writing.  That makes me sad.  I love to have written, I just hate actually doing it.  The act of writing feeds into those insecurities that I clutch to my bosom, no talent, not writing anything anyone else might be interested in, poor grammar, saying what I really believe in a way that doesn’t offend my readers, are only a few of those terrors.

Writing opens a window into my soul for the discerning reader.  Being the person I am, I only want them to see what I wish to reveal.  That makes writing hard, so I fill up my free time with nonsense in order to avoid logging on to WordPress to create something which might interest someone.

After all the tasks that comprise each day are complete (different every day) there is surely enough time to sit down and create my blog. However, I fill those free moments with stuff, television, knitting, crocheting, sewing, reading, and the addicting Candy Crush – (the virtual crack of online games).  Does it really matter if I make it to level 1006?

The time filling things I choose are really valid, and stand on their own as great pass times, but too often I wish I was writing instead; creating a piece of work that I really believe is worthwhile.  In order to do this, I need to sit down, each and every day, and commit something to paper (an old fashion medium used with ink in order to relay the written word).

Good or bad,  to be a writer, I must get out of this slump, which is as bad as the current Yankee team batting average, and sit down to write, write, write.

So dear reader, please forgive me if much of what I relate is  at times sub par.  I need to hone this craft which I love so that someday I may offer you, The Great American Novel.

 
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Posted by on June 21, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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