Sunny Side Up

Today's activity was a fundraiser for an area non-profit. Homestretch, in Falls Church, works with unhoused families to provide training and shelter to improve their lives. I certainly like the work I do, so participating in a "Brunch Crawl" wasn't a big ask.

Our small group started at a Turkish restaurant for a lovely flatbread egg sandwich,  a side of baklava, and tea. From there, we ambled around the City of Falls Church to five other restaurants for small tastes of brunchy deliciousness.

There was a beautifully plated "Mini Brunch Poutine" topped with a tiny sunny-side up quail egg. It was paired with a yogurt, granola, and berry combination and a pomegranate mimosa. This was by far my favorite. I also enjoyed a small taste of chicken and waffles.

Everywhere we went was lovely, but as you can probably imagine, by the time we wrapped up at the final location, everyone in the group was pretty full.

Dinner was a light one tonight.

Waiting On A Friend

I didn't know many people in the Arlington area when I first moved here. I had a few college friends over in Maryland, but I really didn't know anyone other than my three housemates, whom I'd just met.

Fortunately, that all changed when a new employee started in HR at the Smithsonian. Mary C. was sent down to my office so I could train her on the latest computer program in use. I had been in HR since April,  and Mary C. arrived sometime in July. Obviously, I was the expert with 3 months of experience.

It didn't take long for Mary to become my first friend in Arlington. That was 40 years ago. 

We may be 40 years older, but every get-together is just as fun and silly as those first ones we shared way back in our twenties.

My job at the Smithsonian may not have led to a career in Human Resources, and that's okay. I got something better- a lifelong friend.

Growing Up

By the time I was heading to kindergarten, we had already moved from our house on Hollen Rd. south to Silver Spring, MD.

It wasn't until my siblings and I drove by on Saturday that I realized how hard that move must have been for my dad. Silver Spring was not his wife's choice. She found him a job opening back in Baltimore a few years later, and we headed back to Baltimore. I can't imagine it was his choice either. He had grown up so close to our house on Hollen Rd., and by all accounts, his childhood was nothing short of magical. He was only ten when his dad died, but that became just about the only sad memory of his time on Govane Ave. 

Driving home after our drive through family history, I thought about what it would have been like if we had stayed. We would have been so close to my dad's family. His cousins actually lived up the street from us, and his mom and aunt lived in an apartment nearby. Silver Spring was 40 miles away from the magical land of Govans.

I have a feeling that when he bought that first house, his only hope was that his own children would be able to experience the same magical childhood that he did. If I could, I would tell him that my childhood was full of stories, just like his. Maybe I didn't have his childhood, but I had mine, and it was pretty darn good.

Under Pressure

My niece, Mary, is closing in on her first year of teaching. Her group of 1st graders has been quite the handful. Just yesterday, her principal acknowledged just how tough her group is. He told her that other teachers have seen her class in the cafeteria and just shake their heads, wondering how the first-year teacher is handling such a tough group.

Fortunately, Mary has an aunt and a mother who have a great deal of classroom experience. We both know that just coming home and talking through the problems of the day is helpful. We've both been there, and we know advice isn't always what's needed. Sometimes you need to just talk it out. 

Even so, it's been a stressful year. Yesterday, thanks to her new Oura Ring, Mary was able to show me how stressful her days can be. 

"Do you see how the graph shoots up here around noon? That shows my stress level increasing, " she said.

"What happens then?"

"So, that's when I pick them up from specials, and all I'm doing is freaking out, wondering what kind of shit show the afternoon is going to be," she laughed.

It's great that she's laughing. Every teacher knows the first year is one of the hardest. Mary knows that figuring out your own classroom management isn't learned in school. It comes with practice. She knows every year will get better; she also knows she's had a lot of wonderful moments teaching this year, mixed in with all the stress.

Unbelievable

My working self always saw Sunday afternoon as the start of getting ready for the workweek. Somewhere around 4 pm, I would switch from weekend mode to work mode. All of my friends recognized the pattern. If we were out of town for the weekend, they knew I would start getting antsy to head home as soon as noontime was in sight.

Well, those days ended with retirement. I'm still a gal who likes to get in bed early, but I no longer have to worry about last-minute grading, food prep, or figuring out what to wear.

Yesterday, my younger friend, Julie, and I went out for a late afternoon stroll. Since our walk took us right by a neighborhood tavern, we decided to pop in for a beer to reward ourselves for getting out and getting moving. 

"Can you believe it's been a year since I gave my official notice of retirement?' I asked, "I mean, I still can't believe it!"

Julie laughed, "I don't know about that, all I know is I can't believe I got you to have a beer at 5 on a Sunday afternoon."

Cheeseburger in Paradise

Before two of my siblings and I drove down memory lane to our childhood home, we had gone to lunch. Actually, the day started at the funeral of our older cousin, and after that we went to lunch. Walking out of the chapel, we realized that none of us really knew anyone else there, other than my cousin's immediate family. It was a group decision to skip the after-funeral gathering and grab lunch on our own. My sister, Jeen, suggested a good ol' dive bar called Swallow at the Hollow. It was on the other side of Baltimore City, but the 20-minute drive seemed worth it just to go to a place we had all heard about, just a few blocks from our first childhood home.

I suppose The Hollow wasn't always a dive bar. I'm sure when it first opened back in 1947, it was quite grand, just like the neighborhood it served. It was also the neighborhood where my dad grew up, a section of Baltimore known as Govans. His childhood home and all the streets that made up the settings for his own stories were a short walk away.

Like most dive bars, it wasn't that big. Walking in the door, the bar stretched the length of the room on the right. To the left were a few high-top tables. On the other side of the room were five or six tables. We grabbed a table on the "restaurant" side.

"I used to go to a dive bar with a friend and her dad- it was someplace he liked down on Bel Air Rd. They had the best burgers, " I announced, "that's what I'm getting."

It didn't take long before we'd all decided. There would be two burgers, one BLT, and a beer for each of us.

"I came in here with Dad one time," Mark started.

I laughed, "Dad told me about having his first martini here when he was younger. It was so strong, he couldn't talk after."

Over the next hour, we enjoyed great beer, fantastic food,  and memories galore. On the way out, we noticed a black and white photo of a larger group of young guys at the bar. It was taken in 1954, but my dad was nowhere to be found in the crowd.

It was a perfect lunch with my siblings. The only thing missing was my dad. He would have loved to be there.

Family Affair

"I know there's a stream at the end of the block. Mom would take us down there," I started, "it was down there that I swallowed a penny. What kind of mother lets her kid put a penny on their tongue?"

My sister laughed, "What kind of kid puts a penny on their tongue?"

"I was four. What did I know?"

My brother spoke up from the back seat, "Hey, that's the house where the old lady with all the cats lived!"

"And that's the Hendricks' house!" I yelled.

The three of us were driving down Hollen Rd. in Baltimore, looking for the house we lived in back in the late 1960s. I guess it was the place where all of us first lived together, along with our brother Joe, who was absent from this adventure.

Oldest brother, Mark, had already pointed out where he used to wait for the school bus. "There was a lady who lived there, and she would always throw nickels in her yard, so all the kids were always running around her yard looking for nickels."

Jeen slowed the car down once as we neared the Hendricks' house. "The big cedar trees are gone, " Mark noted.

I remember the trees well. My first friend, Frances, lived in that house, and the enormous branches were perfect climbing height for 4 and 5-year-olds. They also had a couple of rows of grape vines in the backyard. Frances' yard was the best.

Our house was down a bit on the left. 

"Mom's going to want to know if the bushes are still growing in the back," Mark said. 

Jeen and Mark were busy looking. I was busy remembering the afternoon the Daddy-Long Legs crawled on me and brought me to tears.

The bushes were gone, and before long, we were back on the road and on our way, content with our quick drive through our family history.