secret cheerleader

There's a family in my neighborhood who are, how can I say this nicely...real D-bags. We're talking milking the system, cops there weekly, proven to be linked to criminal activity, loud, street arguing, fist-fighting on the front lawn and disruptive types of people. Those who know me know that I say hello to everyone when I am out for walks, especially in my own neighborhood. Though I won't go into details, the adults in this household make it clear that they want nothing to do with us or anyone else in the neighborhood except the house across the street from them in which their relatives reside (the other D-bags but add to the aforementioned list: drug dealers). To each his own but I still say hello, particularly to the kids who are much more receptive to friendly gestures.

In the household, there are three (or four or five depending on the day) children middle school age and under. Over the last year and a half I have witnessed these children start talking and behaving more and more like the adults that surround them. I have witnessed the older one using language that could melt paint off a car. Cursing worse than a truck driver, demeaning the younger ones and ranting with such anger it is heartbreaking. I see glimmers of hope when they are outside simply playing like children. If only they had someone, anyone that would take them under their wing and give them the chance of fostering the growth of that beautiful childlike side of them that still exists.

Yesterday, the middle school boy was outside by himself playing basketball. This poor kid often looks so sad, lonely, and sometimes angry. I had run outside to bring the garbage can out to the curb before the truck got to my street. Still in my pajamas and just focused on my task at hand, I hear an enthusiastic "Hi!" being shouted my way. Looking down the street it was the boy waving with a big smile on his face. I waved back with a "Hi. How are you today?" The boy said he was good and then went back to shooting hoops but now with a slight smile on his face. There was another day that I was working in the front yard and the kids were riding bikes. He went out of his way to bike over and say hi. All I have ever been able to do is say "hello" and "how are you?" with a smile on my face when I see him and the other kids. That little bit of positivity brings out the good in such impressionable children. Sadly, such little gestures are not likely to counteract the negativity that surrounds them, but there is still hope and with proper attention they could turn out okay. I know that the family would not allow me to engage the children any more than I already do but I will continue to show them a friendly smile no matter what. I know that I am planting small seeds of positivity and I want to do that, especially for the boy. I hope that at some level this kid knows I am rooting for him.

!!! warning - proof of dorkiness ahead !!!

When I was a child I used dream at night that I was the third part of Hart to Hart, helping Robert Wagner's and Stefanie Powers' amateur sleuthing, self-made millionaire couple, Jonathan and Jennifer Hart, solve mysteries, get the bad guys and come out victorious.

I loved having these dreams.

Hey, I warned you, didn't I? But I was a cool dork with crime fighting prowess.

here i go.....

My first day of work, like my first day of school
filled with excitement
a little bit of anxiousness
and a whole lot of grinny-griness on my face!
Makes me want to go to Cheap John's* to get my supplies tonight (Yeah, which of you former or long-time LIers remember Cheap John's? eh?)

It is my short day, Tuesdays. Only four hours, but that is only counteracted by a 9 to 9 shift later in the week. Egads! But that was better than having to work Saturdays.

The time has come for me to go get ready and then head out. Almost wish I was waiting for the "boo-bus"..... My goodness, I am regressing today. Cheap John's?!? Boo-bus!!!? (what I called the school bus when my big brother was going to school) Quick, someone hit fast-forward before I get behind the wheel of my car. I would not want to be "pre-driver's license" on LI highways! Then again, I might actual drive better than some of the drivers out there anyway.

Wish me luck!

*for non-LIers. Cheap John's was THE place to get your school supplies. Those were the days before schools sent home the nine volume list of supplies to get before the school year begins. Everyone would go after the first day of school. You would see all your friends and classmates scooping up their Bloodhound Gang lunch box (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bloodhound_Gang_%28TV_series%29) and Hot Wheels folders. It rocked!

dresses

dress
Originally uploaded by misslissa13

I am the younger of two children, having an older brother. From what my mother told me, her and my father waited for our births to find out our sexes. After I was born, the obstetrician told my mother, "you got what you wanted!"

Here I was all new and pink. My mom's new little girl. I wonder if that day over 35 years ago, my mother had known she really got a rough and tumble tomboy. I loved sports, played in the mud, and climbed trees. As a matter of fact, I still do these things. In high school, I embraced the black, baggy uniform of a teen punk complete with army issue combat boots or my ox blood Doc's. As a 20-something bartender/industrial club goer overalls and boots were very convenient. Heck, I was not going out to meet guys, I was going to dance hard and hang out with my friends. (Oddly enough, this "aloof" attitude got me hit on a lot back then.)

Despite all this, I know there is a feminine, graceful woman inside this shell that prefers hikes to beaches and umbrella drinks. This weekend I tried an experiment: Girly Clothes.

Dresses, newly acquired and flowery. And not because I had a dress up occasion. Just because I wanted to wear them. To my surprise, it felt nice. So much so, I want to dress this way more often. And I think I will.

Mind you, I will need to keep a change of clothing with me at all times, because you never know when I might come across a good climbing tree. And really, a lady would not moon the neighborhood.

marigolds

marigolds
Originally uploaded by misslissa13

When I smell marigolds
I travel back
to my parents' backyard
where my mother planted
the yellow-orange-red flowers

the colors drew me in
I lingered in the scent,
clean and sweet

They were planted in the narrow bed
near the swimming pool fence
I remember how I couldn't wait
for the flowers to dry
and go to seed
so I could dislodge the clump of seeds
roll them between my then small fingers
and watch then fall to the soil
one
by
one

once upon a time..

Once upon a time..
Originally uploaded by misslissa13

When I was seven.....

My parents' unfinished basement holds a lot of memories including the side of the stairway. Our pencil sharpener is fastened to the side and those sharp pencils and clean "canvas" tempted us to tag on occasion. Many years back, my mother wanted to repaint the stairs, so I asked if she can leave the side "as is".

And, yes, I was called Missy until Junior High School when I became much too "sophisticated" for a nickname so "young sounding".