Just ask...

You know I often state that I am not a religious man, that is true in the sense that I do not believe in organized religion. However, if anyone thinks I do not believe in God, they are sadly mistaken. I believe in God and I believe that Jesus died for me. I pray to God in his son's name and he still responds to me.

I am but an imperfect person who makes mistakes and needs God's understanding, I also realize that I cannot get on from day to day if not for God's help. This brings me to the reason for this post. I used to believe that if one did not attend religious meetings on a regular basis, God would soon stop giving you answers or help. I actually clearly recall that being one of the teachings. The reasoning behind this teaching was the point that if we stopped attending meetings it meant we abandoned God, not that God abandoned us. So, with this understanding people would just stop praying to God and not rely on him for help. I never stopped talking to God since I knew I could not do things on my own. I figured that if he decided to ignore me that was fine, but I was not going to stop trying. I soon discovered that what I believed about God was correct.

I believed that God loves us all and if we seek him in one way or another he will allow us to reach him. I know this because I have found myself in situations where I felt that I could not go on. In fact, I often felt that to die would not be a bad thing. But I went to God and told him my problems, as if he did not know, and I asked him to please help me either find the way to solve the problem or the strenght to let it go. He gave me the help I needed with his Holy Spirit, so I know that God does care and he will not leave if you stop attending meetings as taught by some. I am sure that there are some who need that physical place of worship in order to feel close to God, and for them that is fine, I respect their right to feel and to believe how they do. I however feel I can and have kept close to my God through his Son Jesus Christ.

So, no matter how you worship God, continue to do so since as far as I can tell, he loves us all and will help us if we ask....

An owner's manual on life...

Whatever we buy at the store that operates in one way or another, always includes an owner's manual or some form of instructions. Why doesn't life come with a set of instructions? Why don't we get an owner's manual? As I write these words I can hear my mother's voice saying, "We do have an owner's manual, the Bible>" Not that I want to disagree with my mom, but I read the Bible many times, and while I do recall some lessons, not all are there. Many if not all the lesons we learn come the difficult route, as I have posted in the past I am a graduate of the school of hard knocks!

I am older now and I know how to block a punch in the gutt so it doesn't hurt as much, but I am thinking of innocent children who have little to no say as to what happens in their lives. My only sense of relief when it comes to this is the fact that I have witnessed how children seem to rebound faster than we adults do. It still breaks my heart when I see the things that go on with little to no regard as to who gets hurt.

I for my part know that no one is perfect, but I am not going to give anyone a slap on the wrist and say, "It's ok" when they hurt someone I love. While I understand that sometimes relationships just don't work out, I do believe that society, or at least the part of society I know of, makes escaping from ones responsibilities way too easy. But then again what do I know.

All I can do is what is in my control to do. I will love and continue to do my best to set a good example for the children in my life. While I could take the easy route and say it is not my problem and I don't need to worry about it, I don't need any book or set of instructions to tell me that someone must be strong and provide these innocent ones some sense of security.

I am not a religious man, but I do pray to God that he quickly mends the hearts of all the children in the world who find themselves in a one parent household. And I also pray that those parents who are in a situation where they no longer can live with each other, find a way to leave where the pain to the little ones is reduced. And I also pray that these parents don't alienate the other person causing the children to hate, since this will not help anyone, and in fact can cause long-lasting negative effects in a young ones life...

So while there is no blue-print on how we should build a life, may God bless us all who are putting our best foot forward as we try to do the very best we can for ourselves and those who count on us....

Warm secure feeling...

You know that feeling of security and peace you feel when you are in your favorite place? If you don't know, you seriously need to find it. I started finding these special moments years ago. In fact, I was just a child. I can remember going to Childrens Memorial Hospital for frequent blood test while I had hepatitis. On the way to the clinic most of the time I would have a stomach ache which seemed to last forever, and on the way back all I could think about was getting home and laying on the sofa and watch the Munsters on tv. My stomach would still be upset, but I was home, I was in my safe place. I had this condition for 6 months. Finally one day my blood test came back negative and I was told, or rather, my mom was told I would be okay! I still had to watch what I ate, but at least I knew those terrible stomach aches were soon going to be a thing of the past.

I never gave up my special place though. It has changed locations through the years, but I always have a place in my home where I can go to and feel safe and at peace. Sometimes I visit my place several times a day, while on other days I don't even need to go there. I have even been able to re-create my special place when I am far from home. This is more a mental getting away rather than a physical one. Even though the physical one also involves the mind, when I am away from home It takes more of an effort to arrive at that safe peaceful place.

Sometimes a certain smell, food or thought can quickly take me to my special place. This to some may sound silly, but I really feel strongly about this. I have gone through difficult times in my life where escaping to my place has kept me sane.

I don't hide from my problems while in my secure place, I just take a break from them. I rejuvinate my system so I can go on. maybe to some this may all sound like a false sense of security, but through the years it has worked for me. So, I will continue to enjoy my moments of peace and quiet where I am alone with my fears,feelings,thoughts, hopes and dreams.....

Living within one's means...

You know when I was a kid we lived in a house which was a row house. A row house is just what the name implies. It was a house connected to all the other houses from one corner of the block to the other corner. We had no space between the house next door. In fact, if you listened closely, you could hear your neighbors. We had a back yard and a front yard. There was really no privacy to speak about. I never minded this as a kid. I did not know anything aside from this way of life. We did not have a car till 1968. We did all of our traveling by bus. Anywhere we went we rode the CTA. In the winter we would freeze waiting for the bus and in the summer we would bake in the sun. I do remember the heat and the cold, but I don't remember my sister or I complaining. You see this was the way it was and we did not expect it to change anytime soon. But it was fine, we had a home to return to and food to eat. We did not have all the luxuries which people have now. But, not many folks did, and if they did, they did not live in our neighborhood. We had one black and white television, and my Dad would own it when he was home, especially if sports was on. I remmember back in 1969 my Dad bought a record player and my sister and I were allowed to buy 1 45 record each. The only reason we even got the record player is because our religion came out with records called Kingdom Melodies.

I for my part did not miss not having things since I was raised to believe that we needed to be happy with what we already had and to wish for more was greed and a work of the flesh, or wha Satan wanted us to long for, the things others had. So, I never even gave it a second thought as I was growing up. We were poor I guess, but we never really needed to ask anyone for anything, and if we did I certainly did not know that. In fact, now that i am older I still feel that one does not need a whole lot when it comes to material things to be happy. I really don't regret being raised to be content with what I had. While I do like new stuff just like the other guy, I won't die if I don't have it. Things come and go. What seems important today may tomorrow be tossed aside or even tossed away. My wife and I raised our children in a similar way. They did have mor than just a black and white tv, and we tried to buy them some of the newest toys, but as far as expensive styles, we did not go that route. We did buy our kids new clothes and while it may not have been the most expensive, it was not the cheapest either. I am grateful to God for allowing their mom and me to always provide for them. And just like most parents, we tried to provide things for them which we did not have as kids.

Life is not easy but it can be even harder if we live out of our means. I don't ever remember longing for something another person had. I have always had the attitude that if I get it fine and if I don't that is fine also. I am satisfied with just having what I need to live from day to day. I could say I just need what I need to survive, but someone might think I am dirt poor, and that is not the case. I have what I need and shelter and food are not a worry for me. You see others are not happy with just getting by from day to day, but I do just fine living like this. Not that I don't make plans and save a little when I can, but I have no notions of striking gold. If it happens I will enjoy it but I am not going to spend my life striving after the wind...

How I was raised...

I was brought up in a time when discipline was very important. It was not unique to my home, or at least I don't think it was. We had fun times just like everyone else did, the only difference was that we mainly associated only with other families of the same church. As you may have gathered by now, the holidays were not celebrated in my home. When it came to religion my parents were very strict. You see they believed as my father still does, that this world belongs to Satan and taking part in anything having to do with this world is against God's principles. They also believe that this world is going to end soon and only those baptized as Jehovah's Witnesses will be saved and allowed to live on. So you see as I was a Child it was important for them to raise me in a manner in which I would soon get baptized and live my life as one of them. It worked since at the age of 11 I decided I had better get baptized since I also thought the world was going to end pretty soon. I do feel that the way I was raised did protect me from many things. I stayed away from trouble most of the time since I did believe in a God. Now that I think of it, we really had a strict family. But I am guilty of doing the same thing with my children at the start. I don't regret everything, I would however do some things differently. My parents did the best they could. My father was a very hard worker and always provided for our needs. He seemed to be mad most of the time, but just think of it, he worked 12 hours a day and then attended five weekly meetings at the church. Really did not leave much time to breathe. He and my mom learned the truth, that is what believing in the Jehovah's Witneness teaching is called, from his uncle. He sure did a good job teaching them since it stayed with them all their lives. Not that I was not taught well, I was, but I have always moved to the beat of a different drummer. Only time will tell if they were right or not. It is interesting that most of the families had at least one member like me, they are no longer in the truth either. I have spoken with some of them in the past, and we don't mind not being allowed to celebrate holidays and stuff, as much as we mind the fact that we were not encouraged to seek higher education. I as well as them, were offered opportunities to continue on into college, but we knew we could not even bring this subject up at home. That is one area where I completely say they are wrong, if our loving God gave us the ability to learn it was ment to be used, not only for religion but for learning all you possibly could. I have my own theory on why those who started this religion insisted on their followers strictly obeying such rules. I believe it was because as long as a person is being fed or taught one thing over and over, that is all they know and live. Once you learn something else you start to question the validity of those things you have been taught. I believe that if one is allowed to learn freely and to choose freely, one becomes a better person in the sense that we realize that the choices we have made are ones we made on our own and not those impressed on us by others who know very little of who or what we are.

So, i love my parents and understand why they did the things the way they did, however, now that I am much older and finally realized about 20 years ago that I could make up my own mind and still be accepted by the God I believe in, I don't totally agree with the teachings of the J.W.'s. I might be totally wrong but I often think that if my mother was alive she would see things a little differently also. You see I got my rebel from her and she was a thinker as I am. She accepted things but did a lot of studing to see if she was being told the truth or not. She did have a sincere fear of God. I may be totally wrong but I think my mom was more open-minded than most.

I guess most people regardless of what religion or faith they were raised in could find some good things and some they would change. Life is made up of choices. Those choices we make based on what we have researched rather than on those made for us will take us much further and may make us happier in the long run. If we are wise in making decisions we will succeed, if we just choose things because they are the easy way to go or because they provide the quickest and greater amount of fun, likely we are making the wrong choice and we are headed straight to hell. So, do your best and blame no one for your choices. Somewhere down the line we all must take responsibility for our own choices and actions. God Bless us in our endeavours to live and let live....

Getting wrapped up in the cycle...

What cycle? The cycle of believing what our parents taught us to believe. This is not unique to one religion. If your parents were Catholic and they raised you as such, chances are you raised or will raise your children to be Catholic. If you were raised to believe in the Jewish teachings and customs, likely you will follow that in your life even teaching it to your children.

I am not saying this is right or wrong. It is the way things have been done for many centurys. I lived that way and was raising my family in that manner. My children, especially the oldest two, got the full blast of the Jehovah's Witness way of life. It is not all bad. Many of the teachings help you to avoid problems and pain in your life, I am sure that in other teachings similar thoughts are in the teachings. However, when my oldest daughter was about 15 years of age, I started to see things in the organization which I did not completely agree with. No, these were not new teachings, just the way men were overseeing the flock did not seem right to me. Maybe this had been going on all the while, maybe I was a lot wiser now. I know some will say stupid is mor like it, I rather think I got smarter. Anyway, it did not happen over night, but slowly my family of 4 children and a wife fell out of our religious beliefs. The mother of my children was the last to stop attending. I had stopped teaching my children as I had before. I felt so guilty but at the same time I could not continue to worship where I did not trust those in charge. In fact I still feel very strongly about how some of those elders are going straight to hell, where I will be waiting.... Anyway, I have come to the point where I don't expect my children to follow any of the religious teachings based on what I said at one time. They must choose what is right for them and their families. No matter what it is, I will stand behind them. No, that does not mean I will follow their beliefs, but I will not hold it against them. I am proud that my wife and I gave them a solid beginning aside from the church, so that I completely trust any decisions they make to be in the best interest of their family. I for one believe in a God who loves all people. A God who will not destroy people on the basis of there choice of church or religion. I believe God still loves me even though I am not a believer as I was raised to be. Men should not be given power over Gods people since they abuse that power for their own selfish reasons. The God I know will punish those who have taken such power and abused it with what the Bible calls the lake of fire, if that is not hell, than I don't know what is. No matter what religion or sect, any man who has caused one of God's children to stray should and will burn in HELL!

Birthday celebrations...

Lately i have been asked by a few people in my family why I don't celebrate birthdays. I have given them a generic answer, since I really needed to think about it. I was raised to believe that celebrating birthdays was wrong, and that it made God upset. To back up these teachings we were shown stories in the Bible where bad things such as one man losing his head at the request of the birthday girl and the such. I don't know if I still fall for those reasons. I will tell you though that when something is ingrained into you from an early age, it seems to stick around, no matter the reason or explanation.

There are however stronger reasons why I did not celebrate birthdays when I was younger even if I thought I could do it behind my parents back. I did have a fear of displeasing God, but along with that came the following reasons.

When i was about 6 or 7 years old my best friend, Junior, was having a birthday party in front of his house, he lived 2 doors away from me, and considering that I lived in a row house, that was not to far away. I recall telling him I could not go. I sat in front of my house watching all the activities. Well when it came time to beat-up the pinata, all the kids lined up to take their turn. I was watching thinking, "Man I bet I could hit that thing and break it." But I just watched. All of a sudden Dona Maria, Junior's mother came and took me by the hand to where the pinata was and handed me the stick and told me to hit it. I told her that I could not, and that my parents would be angry. She insisted I go on and hit the thing. Well, I did. I don't remember if I dented the thing or not, since immediately I heard my father yelling out my name. I dropped the stick and knew I was in for it. In for it is an understatement. I got whipped and punished. On another occasion I had saved up $4, and while at our religious meeting I was planning on how to spend it. I decided I was going to buy a chocolate cake and bring it home and my sister and I could eat the whole thing. I asked my mother if once we got home I could go to Albano's bakery and buy something. She said fine, she probably thought I was going to buy my regular bag of candy coated almonds, or my favorite sugar twist, but no I was going to buy a cake. I had just enough money. When I got to the bakery the lady recognized me right away and asked me what I wanted, I told her I wanted a yellow cake with whipped cream filling and chocolate frosting. She told me she had just sold the last one. As I was leaving she called me back in and told me that she just remembered she had one in the back that someone had ordered and never picked up. She said she would put it in a box for me. I was so happy I got my cake. Well, I hurried home and placed the box on the table then I went to take off my coat. I came back in to the kitchen and called my sister and told her I had bought a cake for us. I started to open the box. First you had to remove the string which was tied around the box, as I did this my mom and dad came and stood over us to see what I had bought. Well to my shock, My father told me to go to my room immediately. I did not have a clue of what I did wrong. I quickly found out. I heard him yelling and telling my mom to throw the stupid cake away. Which she did. Then I heard him say how I was going to get it for buying a birthday cake. Well, apparently the cake no one had picked up said Happy Birthday on it. I got a lecture and a whipping. No matter how many times I said I did not know what the cake said it did not make a difference.

I don't blame my parents since this is what they believed, and my dad still believes, but now that I am older I wonder if I don't celebrate birthdays for the religious reasons I was given or because of the sour memories I have regarding birthdays. I don't know. I cannot honestly say that I will never celebrate a birthday or not, only time will tell. For right now I must honestly say that a deep guilty feeling comes over me when I even consider celebrating one....

My years at Wicker Park Elem.....

I went to school at King School from K to 4th. grade. My Sister was transfered to Wicker Park at the end of her 6th. grade at King School because my parents did not want her going to 7th. and 8th. grades at Irving School. Irving School was the school you would go to from King School since King School only went to the 6th. grade. Well, for whatever reason my parents decided to enroll me at Wicker Park in the 5th. grade.

A little background on Wicker Park School...Most if not all of my cousins from my mom's side attended that school. It was in the heart of the Puertorican neighborhood. Maybe that is why my parents sent me there, so that I could pick up some of my culture. Well, little did they know that along with my heritage I learned all the bad words in spanish and many other things, which I will leave to your imagination. My 5th. grade teacher was Miss Ginsberg, it was her first year as a full-time teacher and this was the class from hell. I had come from a pretty strict school, but while Wicker Park seemed strick, in the classroom the kids ruled. I joined in and gave Miss. Ginsberg a very difficult time. A few weeks into the school year she broke down and started crying and told us how she picked Wicker Park because she wanted to help us learn but that we were making her feel like quiting or changing schools. This was a might much to tell a bunch of 5th. graders, most of whom didn't give a shit how she felt. Well, I guess it was my upbringing or something, but I really felt bad for her and I decided to start acting better and doing my work. Soon after most of the class followed through and were doing there part to make her feel welcome. Not all changed, but enough of us did to make her stay and give us a chance. When we weren't in class, it was a different story. We were a wild bunch. I was a punk along with the rest of them. There was only one group of kids we did not mess with, the Vice Lords. These were a bunch of Puertorican boys who would kick your ass just for the hell of it. I recall one morning I was fooling around with one of my pals and he was the brother of one of the V/L's and one of them without asking anything, punched me in the face and my nose started bleeding. I just held it in and went to the washroom and cleaned up the best I could. When I got into the classroom the teacher wanted me to tell her what happened, I would not say a word. None of the other kids said anything either. You see we knew better. No one thought I was a coward since they would have done the same thing. I am telling you that even though these were just kids themselves, they were tough. Since I did not tell on them they left me alone after that. Well, I did very well in 5th. grade. Miss Ginsberg took a liking to me. At the end of the year I had recieved straight E's for every marking period. An E was for yes, excellent.

I returned to the 6th. grade at Wicker Park. I had not seen any of my friends all summer long, but it did not take too much time for us to get back to our ways. My sixth grade teacher was a Jewish lady. Her name was Mrs. Horwitz. We pretended that we did not or could not say her name, so we, or at least the boys called her Mrs. Hore Witch. She of course did not appreciate this very much. She was a tough old bat. She would make us either stand outside the class or in a corner most of the day. She would yell at us so close to our face, that she would actually get spitt on us. She finally managed to calm us down by sitting us in a square group of 4. We still got away with stuff. She had most of my friend's parents come up to the school. She really did not have too much respect for the P.R. community as a whole and she would let us know how she felt. One day she got so angry with me that she said she couldn't understand how Miss Ginsberg allowed me to leave the 5th. grade. One girl in the class, Elsa Cancel, stood up and shocked the hell out of me and Mrs. Hor Witch, when she told her I had been on the honor role all year long. Mis Horwitz, you see I can say it, blew her top. She said this was impossible, she was going to check. She came back into the room angrier than ever, she saw my grades and insisted there was a mistake. I opened my mouth and asked her if she did not think Puertoricans could be smart. The rest of the class 100% P.R. started saying the same thing and boy oh boy was she mad. We thought she would explode so we stopped. She really hated me. She wanted me out of her class. She did not let me get away with anything. One day she was teaching us math and I was listening but at the same time I was talking to that girl Elsa. The teacher caught me and quickly erased the problem from the board, and told me to go up there and solve the problem or I was going to the office. Well, since I could not see that well I had gotten into the habit of writing down the numbers as she wrote them so I could work on them without having to look at the board, well she was shocked when I went up to the board and wrote out the whole problem and the correct answer. She was so angry she still made me go to the office and spend the rest of the day there. She was apparently sending my parents letters to come up to the school for a meeting, but since she mailed them to my uncle's house, my parents never got them. Well, Half way into the school year, she came into the classroom with a big ole smile, and told me, "I got you now!" I had no idea what she was talking about since I had done nothing wrong, yet. She went on to tell the whole class how I did not even live in the Wicker Park district and how she was having me transfered to my old school. Well my heart dropped to my stomach, I did not want to go back to King School. Well, she got her way. She threw me out of Wicker Park. I found myself back in King school. I went from 100% P.R. to 75% black and the rest a mixture of Mexican, P.R., Italian and white. I hated going back since there were a buch of black kids who always gave me problems. Most of them however, were okay, but for this one punk who never left me alone. i wanted to kick his ass so bad, but I wanted to get good grades so that I could get out of that school forever. Well, I made it through the sixth grade at King School. and by the way, Mrs. Horwitz had given me straight U's for the past two marking periods, told you she hated me. Well, the teacher at King School called me to her desk one day and asked how this was possible, and I said I did not know. She then went on to say how she expected these to change immediately, I agreed. Well, I did it since I was pretty smart, if I do say so myself, I brought all my grades up to straight E's. I remember her telling the whole class how she had never jumped anyone from a U to an E before, but that I deserved it. What a different teacher, or was it Me who made the difference....

Just thinking...

I really don't believe that in my lifetime my eye-sight will be restored by a miracle in science, but one cannot be sure of anything in life. I however do have moments when I dream of the things I would do if my vision returned. I have posted in prior post how I would first of all run to a mirror to see what I look like, and then my children, grandchildren, the mother of my children and all my family. I remember how some looked, but for my children I have a picture of a much younger person than who they developed to be. I know I won't be disappointed at all by how anyone looks. I would be so elated that all would look perfect. And more than that, I really look at what a person is made of not what he or she looks like.

But, now I would like to write about the things I would do for fun and to earn a living. First of all I would walk for miles every single day. I would find a nice little place and go to it every morning for a cup of coffee and a doughnut. Maybe DD, even though I favor the doughnuts at Huck Finn. I would own a large dog, either a Doberman or a Rott. I would include him or her in my evening walks. As for earning a living, I would buy a small pickup truck and I would print out flyers advertising the things I could do. These would be handyman jobs around the house. I have learned to do many things which people are either afraid to do themselves or simply rather pay someone to have it done. I would not set high prices so that I could build up a clienttell. I would do good clean work so that I would be recommended. I would do an array of jobs from basic electric and plumbing to cleaning furnaces and chimneys and cleaning gutters. I could do some large type jobs such as installing a new toilet and sink with pedestal or vanity. I have done such work even with limited vision, so I am not afraid to tackle such jobs. Actually installing a toilet is a very simple thing.

I would even rent my truck with me as a driver to folks who buy something at the store and then find it won't fit in their car. I would print out cards indicating all the jobs I would and could do. I would also post on Craigslist and anywhere I could place a free ad.

I would be my own boss. I would decide when I wanted to work and when I did not. Since it is just myself now, I would not need to make a whole lot of money. After living off of disability for so long, anything would be a whole lot, believe me. I see many areas where folks could make money if they don't mind getting dirty and making a little less than the other guy while still offering high quality work.

As I said though these are just thoughts I have on my mind just in case a miracle does happen to me in my lifetime. If it does not I will still continue to make myself useful in whatever and to whomever I can...

Life is what you make it..

I don't expect everyone to agree with me, but that is fine. I however, do believe that to a very large extent, we do control what does and does not happen. Yes, many things happen in everyones life which are of the unexpected or even shocking nature, and while there was nothing we could do to prevent these from happening, their sure is something we can do afterwards. Do we need to change drastically? Maybe, it all depends on what we aim to accomplish and how much we a willing to allow what has happened to have a positive or negative affect on our lives. We can sit down and wait for things to change, get better, or we can take steps to make it so. That is how we do and should have control over what happens from this moment on. Most likely there is not a damn thing we can do to completely erase the negative effects of the bad incident, but we should not allow it to linger in our system and cause more pain and damage then it already has.

So, Chear Up! There is a beautiful and clear tomorrow. Just give it all you have and be totally focused on achieving something good for yourself. You will feel great about it and you will learn from it. Chances are that you will be a much better person for having put up a fight for yourself. And if nobody notices, what the hell, you know it and that is all that really matters, and you have prepared yourself for the next challenge life throws your way, and believe me, it will....

Summer is winding down...

This summer has been beautiful if you like the hot weather, I do. But now we are entering one of my favorite time of the year, fall. Ever since I was a kid I enjoyed fall the most. I remember that back then I could see a little better when it was cloudy out, and it seemed there were more of those days in fall. I enjoy fall for other reasons also. I love the way everything changes color in preparation for winter. I like the sound of the crackling leaves under my shoes as I walk. I like the way the breeze moves through the house leaving a nice fresh scent. I recall when I was a kid we would burn the leaves and I enjoyed that smell. Some folks still burn the leaves, we don't since it can hurt certain people with upper respitory problems. Ever since I started paying the utility bills back in the '70's, I also like the fact that the electric bill is lower during September and October. I guess that is due to not haveing to run the air, or fans since the weather is so nice.

School starts next week and when I lived in my old neighborhood on Grenshaw, when I was in 6th. and 7th. grade I would go and either buy one of the best hot dogs with fries in Chicago on the corner of Polk and Western, or I would buy my favorite potato sandwich at Willlys on Polk and Leavitt. After a while Willy's closed and then Lulu's started selling the potato sandwich. I still go there to eat them. When I was in 7th. grade I would pay .30 cents for each sandwich. It was poor people food like gravy bread, just add french fries and sometimes pieces of Italian beef come along for the ride. Man oh man I could still eat those everyday if I lived near there. You noticed I stopped at 7th. grade, that is because I skipped 8th. grade as most kids would go to 8th. grade. My friend, whose name I cannot remember, I think it was Pete, and I were selected to complete 8th. grade in summer school. So what normally took a whole school year, we did in 8 weeks. It was a pilot program. We were sent to Crane H.S. with a group of students who had failed 8th. grade. So, there we were the only two latinos with a class of black kids who were not the cream of the crop, to say the least. I guess they intended for the study habits Pete and I had would somehow rub off on them. Well, I don't know if it did or didn't, all I know is that we all passed. The only regret I have is that somehow, someone forgot to inform our teacher that Pete and I were honor students. She thought we were bad kids who just like the rest had failed. She treated us like shit! I recall how she would hit the students with whatever she could. One day she wanted me to give my belt to her so she could hit this black kid who was my friend, so I refused and she made me go to the office where they called my parents and threatened to kick me out of the program. I remember how my father was upset I did not obey my teacher. I still cannot to this day understand how parents could allow teachers to get away with that. Not til I got mad one day and stood up for myself did that teacher ever acknowledge that Pete and I were not there for the same reason as the others. I remember I told her how I was going to prove it to her by getting the highest grade on the Constitution test, which I did, I got a 97 1/2, the highest score in the class. Don't ask me how they came up with that score all I know is that I got it! I did help my fellow students prepare for the test also. You see, as we spent those weeks in the summer together, we all became friends. They were a tuff bunch but they wanted to pass also. I actually enjoyed that summer even with that crazy little black woman teacher. Pete and I would walk to Crane everyday for school. It was quite a walk since it was by jackson and Oakley. I would pick him up since he lived on Ogden Ave. and then we would walk together the rest of the way. On the last day Pete met me by my house. I remember having a blue cap and gown. At that time my mom would have our milk, orange juice and eggs delivered by the Bowan milk company. Well, Pete and I were walking out the door of my house when the milk man drove up. He wanted to know where we were going oll dressed up in our best suits. We told him we were graduating the 8th. grade, and he asked from what school, we told him Crane, and he told us to hop into the milk truch and he gave us a ride to the school. I wonder if anyone else can claim that they were driven to their 8th. grade graduation on a milk truck....

What kind of friend are you...

That is not a trick question, but it can be a difficult one to answer. The first obvious answer to most of us is 'a good friend' or even 'a great friend'. Whose standards are we basing our answer on? We might be looking at the kind of friends others make, and compared to them we are great friends, but are those the standards you want to live up to? Apparently their standards really don't meet up to what we feel a friend should be. So, honestly what kind of friend are you...

Only you can answer that soul-searching question. We all have a notion of what makes a good friend.

Is a friend someone who always agrees with us?
Is a friend someone who always says the right thing?
Is a friend someone who remembers all those special occasions?
Is a friend someone you can call at any time of the day or night?
Is a friend someone who brings you chicken soup?
Is a friend someone who laughs at all your jokes?
Is a friend someone who won't tell you your breath doesn't smell to good?
Is a friend someone who forces you to eat even though you are on a diet?
Is a friend someone who reminds you to eat something?
Is a friend someone who allows you to drive just cause you only had a few beers/shots?
Is a friend someone who says they love you?
Is a friend someone who shows you they love you?
Is a friend someone you always want to be around?
Is a friend someone who lets you have your own space?
Is a friend someone who calls you when you are sick?
Is a friend someone who calls you when someone dies?
Is a friend someone who calls you regularly?
Is your husband your friend?
Is your wife your friend?
Is your child your friend?
Is your parent your friend?
Is your pet your friend?
How much can you tell a friend?
How much can a friend tell you?

I can go on and on, but you get the point. It is not so easy to say if someone is a good friend or a casual friend.

One thing we can do is to set our own standards as to what kind of friend we want to be and to whom...Then we can work hard at achieving this. Remember that to be a good friend you don't need a lot of money or a lot of material things to offer, and remember that who you are should be just enough. If you want to make a a person your remodeling project so they can be a good friend to you, then you aren't a good friend to have, and the opposite is true also, if someone is wanting to change us because they feel we would then fit their mold, then they are not a friend worth pursuing.

What kind of friend are you...