Another trip to the Narcisi Winery and surprise, surprise; oh I don’t like surprises, Gomer

On Wednesday July 23 (which was also my dad’s 88th birthday if he was still alive) our senior center took a trip 40 minutes north of the city to Gibsonia and the Narcisi Winery.

We were there once before in October 2023, which I wrote all about here.

Shortly after we arrived, I dug out my phone to start taking pitchers, and thought “you know, I’d just be repeating an older post” so I decided to put the phone away after taking this pic of their orchard.

I’m a little sorry I did that, my friend Mary dressed extra special for the day and wore a nice outfit that included a lovely peasant’s blouse.  Why didn’t I get a photo of that at least?

I wound up ordering the same thing I did the last time we were there; a petit filet mignon steak salad with jalapeno ranch dressing.

(But I did have a wine slushi this time ‘round, my first alcoholic drink in probably 10 years.  It was refreshingly buzzy.)

Their specialty is pasta dishes, which everyone else at my table got except for me. It’s just that they serve so much hot bread and dipping oil before your meal arrives, I loaded up on that again and was carb’d out.  

I was also smoked out—my pal Dennis sat on my right and during our meal, got up to go outside and have a cigarette thirteen times.  13 times!  I love the guy, but still…

Dennis on the right, puffing away; we could see him directly outside the window behind our table.  We had a lovely view of the winery’s grounds

All in all, it was a really hot day but still a nice time.  I felt a little guilty being there without my dear friend Evvie (who is still dealing with her sciatica, now our second outing without her) but my gosh, Mary is so dear & funny.  She’s so tall & slender though, I just wanted to shake her.  Just kidding, Mary!

Here’s the surprise though; after the Access shuttles returned and took us home (we were gone the whole day) I found a certain piece of mail taped to my front door.  It’s been 15 years since I last got one of these, I should’ve known one was coming.

I’m to report for jury duty on Thursday, August 28 (which also happens to be my sister Shawn’s birthday).  I almost dread having to take a bus to downtown Pittsburgh, it’s been so long since I was last in the city.  I worked down there for almost 30 years, y’know.

Here’s what I’m also nervous about—my long covid, which still isn’t under control.  Last week, I was in a good amount of pain Thursday, Friday, Saturday.  Burning in the face, tops of my hands, backs of my legs.  Sunday morning I woke up and it was completely gone.  Things were fine on Monday too, thank you Lord.

And then Tuesday (the day before our winery trip), I awoke with my face and eyes in so much pain I spent most of the day on my bed with the bedroom door shut and my eyes closed.  These relapses are pretty debilitating.  I felt positively blessed when I got up Wednesday morning and aside from some mild burning around my eyes, knew I could go on our trip to the winery.

I just wonder how things are going to be on August 28 when I’m expected to be at the Allegheny County Courthouse at 8:30 am.  All I can do is keep my fingers crossed and hope I don’t get a visit from Post Covid Pyle.

 

 

Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird—it’s a plane—it’s the Boomer’s Superman

This is a thing of beauty.  I wasn’t going to share it here, but with the new Superman movie out this summer…  this is an 814 page collection of Superman comic books from the late 1950s thru the early 1960s.  It weighs a ton and every page is drenched in color.

A year ago a friend sent me a link to this book, and my eyes almost popped out of my head.  A Superman Silver Age Omnibus!  814 pages!  $100.00!

But I’m not the comic book fan I once was, and couldn’t bring myself to shell out a hundred clams for this fella.  I stuck it in my Amazon Wish List account.  Then last week, Amazon alerted me there was only one copy left and I noticed the price was reduced almost half to $53.70.  SOLD.

Silver Age comics were comic books published from 1958 to 1970.  I began collecting comics in 1968, when they were 12 cents an issue.

(Your average comic book now is 5 bucks.  They’re not marketed to kids like they were in my day.)

I don’t think this OMNIBUS is marketed to kids either—more to “older kids” like myself, Baby Boomers who loved these simpler, more innocent stories from a bygone age.

Silver Age Superman was drawn by Wayne Boring, Curt Swan and Kurt Schaffenberger, who did all the “What If” stories and “Superman’s Girl-Friend, Lois Lane”.  The books were bright and fun, with stories about red kryptonite, bizarro supermen, super cousins, super pets, beauty queens from the 30th century or the lost city of Atlantis, juvenile delinquents from outer space.

One of my favorites were Zigi & Zagi from Alpha Centauri; after arriving on Earth, they stop at a hot dog stand, gobble up some dogs and tell the vendor not to change the recipe.  They fly off in their jet packs while the vendor exclaims they owe him 2 bits each.  “Come back here!!  Superman!!”

In the late 1960s, if I could get a quarter from my dad or mom, I’d stop at GC Murphy’s on the way home from school and buy a comic book and dime candy bar (and still have 3 cents left over for penny candy). 

In the spring of ‘69, I saw this sign above the comic books:

SORRY KIDS!  ALL COMICS NOW PRICED 15 CENTS!

They had the exact same sign above the candy bars, also now 15 cents (except Reeses & Mallow Cups).  My first taste of inflation! 

For the record, I gave up collecting comic books in 1979, after graduating from high school.  Not because I was becoming an adult and had my future to think about… they went up a nickel in price 5-6 times in the 1970s, and now cost 45 cents for my favorite titles.  I just couldn’t bring myself to shell out that kind of bread for 5-6 books every week. 

Look at all the comic books reprinted in this volume; these early covers contain 3-4 Superman stories each.  Until I see the new Superman movie, I am in for some super-duper reading. 

 

Gentlemen, your mission should you choose to accept it; proceed to Mission Barbecue

This past Wednesday, several of us from the Senior Center took one of our bi-monthly lunch outings to Mission BBQ, in Robinson Township.

Dennis & me, waiting for our ride to Mission BBQ

I was a little surprised to discover there’s a couple of them in the greater Pittsburgh area, and 150 franchises nationwide; I’d never even heard of them.

I’m so glad I stopped in Lincoln Barbershop on the way to the center to tell Rose (my barber) where I was going.  She warned me the food was salty, to taste before reaching for the salt & pepper.  Boy was she right!

To be honest, I almost didn’t go; my friends Mary & Debbie elected not to join us, and my girl Evvie is dealing with some health issues (her sciatica).  I haven’t seen her for a couple weeks now.

Evvie, if you’re reading this… I love and miss you, get better soon.

Well, I had Dennis to keep me entertained & hopefully vice-versa, so away we went.

Here’s the place from the outside.

Inside, the walls were covered in police, military & firefighting badges, gear, helmets, photos, etc.; from the ceiling hung LED tvs airing patriotic videos.  “GOD BLESS THE USA” country music played loudly and nonstop.  (The music was driving me a little bonkers.)

 

This was not a full service restaurant.  The minute you walk in the door, you’re part of a line headed towards a row of cash registers.  Just like an old school McDonalds.  You give them your order (good thing I studied the menu the night before) and then shuffle down the line and fill your own drink cup.

Before you even get to your table, your name is called to come back & pick up your food.  No plates, it’s all served on heavy brown paper on sheet metal trays.  I got the Big Brisket Sandwich, hand-cut fries & coleslaw. It was piping hot & perfectly delicious.

STILL… at 12 noon, the televisions suddenly displayed American flags, and everyone was asked to stop what they were doing, stand at attention and salute (or pledge allegiance to) their nearest flag while the national anthem played. 

I have nothing against showing respect for our men & women in uniform, but the “forced patriotism” in the middle of lunch felt a little disconcerting, to say the least. 

There was a couple hitches with this outing.  First, we arrived & finished so quickly, we were ready to go by 12 noon.  But Access (our shuttle ride) wasn’t returning to get us until 2pm!  I called & requested an early pickup, but they never showed.

So the group of us spent 2 hours outside the restaurant, watching people coming and going while chewing the fat.  I talked about my brisket sandwich so much, Dennis went back inside and ordered one to take home.  Later, he asked me if I’d seen the urinal in the men’s room and when I said no, suggested I check it out. 

(It was a big metal trough in the floor that made a drumming sound while you’re going.  Can you believe I’m sharing that?)  

The second hitch was the ride home.  I forgot to select ‘Drop off at home’ on the sign-up sheet, and Access does NOT bend the rules; so I had to ride that damn shuttle back and forth in front of my apartment building 3 times while the (new) driver dropped off other riders.  The other riders even said “Doug lives right here, just let him off!”   

Nope—I had to ride back to the center and walk the mile home.  Oh well, I suppose I needed the exercise anyway!

 

 

And here’s to you, Mrs. Souders gee I like you more than you will know… Woah woah woah

Sunday morning before heading off to church, my friend Diana sent me this photo of someone from our past—Alice Souders, our sophomore English teacher, recently moved into a nursing home and celebrated her 99th birthday.  God bless her.

I sat here and thought “I can name every English teacher from 7th to 12th grade without pause—Miss Devito in 7, Miss King in 8, Miss Doody in 9, Mrs. Souders in 10, Mrs. Fox in 11, Ms. Skirchak in 12th grade.” 

I could recall something memorable from each of those teachers too, and I liked every one.  Except Mrs. Souders.  In fact I disliked her a lot, until many years later.

From the 1956 Jeffersonian yearbook—her first year teaching at our high schoolShe looked very much like Margaret Hamilton to me (you know, the Wicked Witch of the West in Wizard of Oz) and seemed to have disdain for many of her students, especially the male ones.  At least it felt that way to me.  She had us read Shakespeare’s works—Hamlet, MacBeth, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I wouldn’t appreciate those assignments until many years later.

In February 2017, I’d been living back in my hometown for 5 months (and was ready to move back to Pittsburgh).  I was in the local Giant Eagle in the bread aisle, and a woman tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I would get her a can of bread crumbs from the top shelf.  I recognized her instantly.  It was Mrs. Souders, the first time I’d seen her in 40 years.

Mrs. Souders in 1977, my sophomore year in high school

I said “Of course, Mrs. Souders” and got her the breadcrumbs.  She said “You know my name, are you a former student of mine?” 

I said I sure was, her 1976-77 year.  She said “You look very familiar, is your name Donald?”  I said no but she was close, my older brother’s name was Donovan and she taught him too.  I was Douglas, the second Morris brother.

She asked me what I’d been up to since high school, I told her I’d dropped out of college in 1982, then moved to Pittsburgh in 1986 to return to school and remained there.  I had just retired from a career in Information Technology.

She seemed genuinely interested, and jokingly asked if her class had helped any in my career path, and the next thing I knew we were laughing and having a warm, friendly conversation.  I said I remembered having to write a paper on Macbeth, and she gave me a C because what I turned in was boring and better suited for an encyclopedia.  She said “No!” and we both laughed so hard at that. 

I really did remember that, I worked hard on that paper and that lousy grade bothered me for a long time.

I told her that she gave us the option of writing a paper about Hamlet or memorizing his monologue “To be or not to be”, so I did the latter and could still recite most of it to this day.  She said “Can you recite it for me now?” and I don’t know how but I did—the first 6 lines anyway.  She said “Did I give you an A?”  I said I didn’t think so, I messed up a couple places the first time and we laughed again.

But I also told her when we were given Midsummer Night’s Dream to read and write a report on, I disliked it so much I wrote I had nothing good to say about it and was writing about a book I’d recently read instead.  I expected a failing mark, but at the top she wrote “This was not your assignment!  But you expressed how you felt like a man and I respect that.”  She gave me an A.  It’s the honest-to-God truth, and really stuck with me for a long time.  I can’t say the same about any other English teacher.

She said “Your memories honor me, sir.”  We hugged and said goodbye.  I can’t believe that was 8 years ago, it seems more recent than that.

So… a belated Happy Birthday, Mrs. Souders.  You weren’t my favorite then, but some things like wine & cheese (and teachers) definitely improve with age.  Right, Puck?

 

Diana, Ruth & myself at the Phipps Conservatory—a whole lotta green goin’ on

Tuesday morning, my friend Diana and our former classmate Ruth (who I haven’t seen in 46 years) traveled to Pittsburgh, and the three of us went to the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens, established in 1893.

It honestly blew me away—I’ve lived in the city almost 40 years, and this was my first visit there.

I probably took 100 pictures, but when I began pulling them up on my computer for editing & downsizing, all I saw was a whole lot of green. 

I don’t think they were interesting enough to show that many here, but I still wanted to post a few just for memory’s sake.

Afterwards, we went to the Cheesecake Factory for an early dinner, and what would one of my posts be without a couple food pics?

Here’s the outside of the Conservatory (it was a pretty cloudy day).

Here’s a nice shot of Diana (left) and Ruth, shortly after we entered the first dome.

This dome contained some British-type gardens; I loved the green statues in the far back.  (You can click on any photo to enlarge.)

One cool crocodile (if you wave your hand in his mouth, two giant crocs emerge from the water).  In the second photo are some verrry tall gold & red glass sculptures.

More giant glass pieces among the greenery.  These are big enough to lay down in

A sloth hangs from a tree; a pair of elephant sculptures, spraying water

There’s a path that winds below the surface, then emerges into a forest filled with live butterflies.  It was breathtaking, I captured a bright orange one here.

After the conservatory, we went to the Cheesecake Factory.  Diana got a spicy dish of Korean barbecue chicken, but first enjoyed a big slice of banana cheesecake for an appetizer.  She’s a grownup, she can do as she pleases.

Ruth got a chicken salad sandwich and sweet potato fries, and I got this “Bee Sting” flatbread pizza (with a spicy hot honey sauce) and a Caesar salad. Everything was delicious.

I did get a piece of their famous cheesecake to go, but wound up devouring the whole thing before we left.  At $11.95 a slice, I wish I’d made it last longer!

The dog days of summer, moms, sisters, just doing some thinking out loud

This photo is from early May, 1970.  That’s my younger brother Steve in the red & white stripes (holding a paddleball), my older brother Duke in the glasses and yellow & navy shirt, our cousin Mark over for a visit and holding our dog Bone, my sister Shawn holding our sister Donda-Lin. 

That’s me in the red shirt in the back, feeling a bit shell shocked and maybe I’m looking at my younger sister with some resentment, I can’t remember. 

Right around the time this picture was taken, Mom & Dad told us that our sister Donda-Lin was getting too big for her crib, and Shawn’s tiny bedroom wasn’t big enough for another bed; so we’d be moving to an older but bigger house in the country.  Everyone seemed fine with it, except for me.

Anyway, I was just thinking that Mom was 29 years old when she snapped this photo.  And with 5 kids.  And she wasn’t through yet.  How she did it is beyond me.

Speaking of moms, my new neighbor Sharon (I’ll be writing more about her in my next blog) told me she’d recently lost her mom, who was 91 years old.  This is such a strange, sad coincidence.  This past month, my friend & former coworker Lisa lost her mom, also in her 90s.  My blogger friend Margaret of Stargazer lost her mom, in her 90s.  My friend Robin from Canada just lost her beautiful mom, also in her 90s.

I can’t help but wonder, is it easier when you lose your mother at such an older age?  I lost my own when she was only 64.  It wasn’t sudden, we knew her end was coming, but it was still far too young for her to go.

Speaking of sisters, my youngest sister Courtney (who isn’t in that photo above, she wouldn’t be born for another 5 years) just turned 50 years old on July 2.  She lives in Ohio now with her husband Robert, and has a pretty successful business doing first aid training in the corporate sector.I can still remember the shock I felt when Mom announced she was pregnant for her—how was it possible?  She was an old lady with 5 kids, she was 34 years old! 

Anyway, Court was delighted to get her “welcome letter” from AARP, indicating she’s officially getting up there in years.  I remember when I got mine 14 years ago and wrote about it here.  Dammit, now I really am old.

I’m also grouchy, I’ve been trying not to talk about it but I’m still dealing with inflammation issues from long covid.  (Right now the center of my face feels like a bad sunburn, and the inside of my mouth is very, very sore.)  I get 3-4 days of feeling fine, then 3-4 days of this crap.

A couple days ago at the senior center, I got a few raised eyebrows when I announced I was meeting up with some high school girls this week for an outing.  I had to clarify that, I’m meeting up with my friend & former classmate Diana, and our former classmates Ruth Ann & Renee, for a visit to a local conservatory and then lunch.

I haven’t seen Diana since 2023.  I haven’t seen Ruth or Renee since 1979!  

At least I HOPE it happens.  I really need this stuff in my face to quiet down.  I’m a real barrel of laughs today, aren’t I…

Well, I know I didn’t have a lot to say or share here but I just wanted to put something new-of-sorts out there; frankly that photo of Connie & myself in my last blog was getting a little old.  I hope everyone had a nice Farce of July, and as always, thanks for dropping by.