Living Locally

Flag down the street

I love living in a small town. There is so much to enjoy within a ten-mile radius. Here in RI, we live near many farms. Everywhere you look, are little stands on the curb outside various homes selling produce grown out back. Paying is by the "honor system". Just leave the money in the jar or box provided. This is also how I buy my annual herb plants and fresh eggs. It saddens me to think that "honor" diminishes with population density. How long do you think that cash would remain in that jar or box in Providence or Boston?

I also joined a farm share program this year. I've never done this before, and many times I don't get around to eating all my vegetables in a week. So I bought a half-share to see how it goes. The share is paid up front. Each week, Kelli sends shareholders an email updating us on activities at the farm, located about three miles from my house. Included in the email is the order form with pricing. I simply check what I want in the online form, and the day/location I want to pick up my vegetables/eggs. Then I show up to empty the blue bin labelled with my last name.

I noticed that I have begun to forget to pick up my vegetables. The first time it happened, I received a very polite email from Kelli reminding me that vegetables don't preserve well unrefrigerated overnight and that she and her husband are very tolerant of late pickups. I thought this wording was very kind and thanked her for the reminder. I showed up at midnight with a flashlight to empty my bin. This week, I forgot again. I received no reminder, and I arrived a day late. I was pleased to see that actually my vegetables, while still in the only bin left outside and sitting in the sun, were still fairly cool. I got them home right away and into the fridge. I don't like refrigerating tomatoes, so they stay on the kitchen counter.

Cultural Bazaar

I also went to a Cultural Survival Bazaar with my friend, Debi, last weekend. It was held two miles from our house in the "Four Corners" area of town on the lawn. We browsed around for an hour or so, bought a few nice things, and ate a little lunch while listening to a Nipmuc Indian named Hawk Henries play the woodland flute. It was a lovely afternoon.

My friend down the road is an artist who has begun to successfully market herself and exhibit her works around town. There are many art galleries in Tiverton. Last weekend, my husband, Larry, and I attended a gallery opening where Nancy Shand was exhibiting. We have only attended one other opening in Framingham, MA for our friend Marie Craig. I have known Marie for many years, and watched her grow into an artist; fighting all the self-doubt that comes with a change-of-career journey. When she opened her first studio, was the first time I attended anything like that. Now, she and an artist friend started and maintain a gallery in Framingham, MA, Fountain Street Studios. I seem to be comfortable attending openings of a friend when I know her whole family with also be there. I am otherwise intimidated by art galleries. I don't go to them in general.

I confessed this fear to Nancy, and she couldn't believe it! She dragged me to a gallery in Westport, MA run by Dedee Shadduck. Nancy told me when it opened that I should make a point of going. She described the space as new and that it held beautiful light. Nancy is a big fan of light, as am I. I told her I would, but never did. We attend an aerobic exercise class together, so after class one morning, we went to the Shadduck gallery. She was right. It is beautiful. Nancy introduced me to Dedee, who was so warm and welcoming. It was not intimidating at all! These galleries not only sell paintings and sculptures, but jewelry. At Dedee's gallery, I found the exact kind of red beads I wanted to accessorize my Christmas concert outfit. I sing with the Greater Tiverton Community Chorus, as does Nancy.

So when Nancy invited us to attend the Van Nessem Gallery for their opening and her exhibit, I didn't hesitate. Her husband, granddaughter and good friend also came, and we had a lovely time. We also went to an impromptu dinner afterwards. It turned out to be a wonderful evening.

Nancy's husband is very active in the Tiverton Land Trust. Larry and I are attending the "Land and Sea Gala" fundraiser for it tonight. This is our first-ever gala, and all the locals will be there. "Bring a card", Nancy instructed me when she ran into me at the beauty salon while I was getting a "cut and a color". Apparently, along with locally produced and prepared food; beer, wine and cocktails, there will be an auction. I've been told to "shop 'til I drop".

Meadow Lark

We just got back from the gala. It was really fun! We walked to the event and arrived right on time. We felt a little awkward. We didn't know anybody but our friend, Mike, and he was working. So we got a gin drink and browsed the auction items. There were silent auction items where you just wrote your name and bid on a clipboard, and the live auction where I bid on this Meadow Lark painting by Brenda Wrigley-Scott . The moment I saw it, I knew I had to have it. I also fished for an octopus (plastic, of course) in a tank and won a nice bottle of red wine, made locally. I also got a gift certificate for a young childrens' store, so I gave that away.

Larry and I sat alone for a long time because we arrived early and had to sit. As the huge tent of tables-for-five filled up, it appeared we were the only couple sitting alone. I didn't like this at all, so I went over to the table of all our neighbors and asked if we could join them. We did, and the celebrity of the evening was with them: Larry's hero (my words, not his), Norm Abrams from PBS' This Old House series and his wife, Elise. Norm has been with the show thirty-five years, and Larry got to tell him he'd been watching for thirty-four. They were very nice. He put an item up for auction, and it was the big seller of the evening: lunch with the crew and a day at a shooting of the series. They are working on the youngest house yet in Lexington, MA. We also got to tell him we lived a couple houses down from the workshop. It was really cool.

Living in this small town is starting to feel like the TV show, "Cheers". When I go to the deli counter at Tom's Market, Don (because now I know his name) always says, "Hello", to me. We chat while he gets my order and I love that. Tiverton is not quite Mayberry, RFD, but it sure feels like it sometimes.

The Power of Canine Companionship

Mattie Grace

Larry and I watched Futurama on TV last night. I've never seen it before, and will never watch it again. (I never watched Southpark again after the episode where Jesus and Santa Claus get into a fist fight either.) The Futurama episode broke my heart. I got angry and went upstairs to read. I just couldn't stand watching television one more minute. But, I couldn't get the episode out of my mind and just wanted to cry. I felt heartbroken. I reacted, and still am reacting, so extremely to it. I just don't understand why.

The main charcter accidentally fell into a cryogenic machine while delivering a pizza to the site. He was thawed ten thousand years later. Meanwhile, he had befriended a scruffy, street dog he named Seymour. He worked at a pizza shop and fed Seymour pizza. Their favorite song was, "Walking on Sunshine".

Jackson

After being thawed, Philip J. Fry is now friends with a robot. They go to a history museum where Fry finds out the pizza shop he worked at has become an exhibit, complete with his now fossilized dog exhibited in a glass case. He is appalled to see his pet has become an exhibit, and steals it from the museum. He brings it to a scientist friend to extract DNA, so his pet can be cloned. (I never watched the show and can't be bothered providing all the details, so they may be inaccurate.) The robot becomes jealous and throws the fossilized dog into a vat of lava thus infuriating Fry.


Long story short, eventually all is forgiven and Fry gets the dog back to be cloned. He finds out the dog lived to be fifteen years old. Upon finding this out, he realizes he only had the dog at three years old. Therefore, the dog must have live a whole other life, and concomitantly sung to a whole new song with another owner. So, he cancelled the cloning process, decided the dog had a happy life without him, kissed it and said goodbye.

Jackson and Izzy, his cousin

New scene, we see the dog searching all over creation for Fry, and finds him in the cryogenic tube, but Fry's parents don't notice, and put a leash on the dog and pull him away. The dog spends the rest of his life sitting and waiting in front of the pizza shop for Fry to return until the dog lays down and goes to sleep forever in old age. The tune we hear through the passing years as we watch the dog age and die waiting for his beloved master to return is, "I Will Wait For You". Are you kidding me?

Then today on Facebook, I see a video about a pair of dogs, one was run over and died, while the other prods it relentlessly trying to wake it up. I couldn't even watch the whole thing, let alone listen to the commentary. I am crying inside with the sad emotion of the devotion and loyalty and persistence of dogs. I wish all humans behaved the same way. Maybe that's why I cry. I don't know. But, I need to snap out of it for sure!

Finding Calm in all the Chaos.

With all the craziness going on in my life these days between not having a home that's livable in SC right now, living with the in-laws, and being in transition in general, I have been feeling really stressed. My OCD is hitting me hard. Now, I realize that compared to cancer or true homelessness, my problems are nothing. But, they are mine, and they do affect me, so I accept that they are apples; not oranges. That said, I purchased an on-line course from a woman I respect: Sonia Choquette. Her first video suggested tools to deal with the chaos causing me stress.

1) Remember my Spirit by saying what I love. Say it out loud!

• I love my family and friends.
• I love my dogs and granddogs.
• I love to sing.
• I love to dance.
• I love to laugh and be silly.
• I love flowers and bird song.
• I love to swim.
• I love being healthy.
• I love to travel and experience new things.
• I love good and tasty food.
• I love dark chocolate; cake and ice cream/frozen yogurt.
• I love a good, warm hug.
• I love a good story.

2) Remember my Gifts. Acknowledge them and use them. They are the foundation of my purpose in this life. We are "being required to be truly authentic" right now, apparently, so "back off the drama".

• I write well.
• I can articulate clearly.
• My laugh is infectious. So is my smile.
• I am generous.
• I feel deeply.
• I show actions as well as speak words.
• I try to live what I believe every day.
• I work hard.
• I am a nurturer and a caregiver.
• I love genuinely.
• I am an explorer and a seeker.

3) Acknowledge my fears head-on, and the situations affecting me right now. Speak them out loud.

• I am afraid that we won't have all the money we need to live well for the rest of our lives.
• I am afraid to show my true self for fear of being rejected.
• I am afraid I don't love my Self as much as I think.

4) Think about the choices I'm facing and the situations that are affecting me. She suggests sitting for a moment with my hand over my heart, and speak out loud whatever my spirit says to me. This is a key way to receive guidance during chaotic times.

• I will be fine.
• We will have everything we need.

5) Remember to breathe. Touch my index fingers to my thumbs, take a deep breath through my nose thinking "I Am", then breath out with an "Ah" sound while thinking "Calm". This technique really does help.

She suggested sharing her video, so here is Sonia Choquette. Enjoy and try it. I am. Be well.

Aging and Women's Rights

Mom, Aunt Jean, me and Gummy

Today is Gloria Steinem's 80th birthday. I remember my grandmother's 80th birthday. These women looked nothing alike at the same age. Of course, Gloria never married and never had children. She cared for her aging mother in a working class home until she died. Her parents divorced and she viewed marriage as a woman being a smaller part of a man.She wanted to be larger. It was 1956. After Smith College, she became a political activist; helped create New York Magazine and Ms. magazine, and has traveled extensively. She continues to be an activist and travel today. Activism IS her life. She looks older, but is now held up as the role model for women turning 80. She looks great and is still very productive; she looks like she has a lot of energy.

Gummy lived a hard, working-class life: working in a bowling ball factory during WWII; married a hard-working, hard-drinking man, and raised four children. She was a very religious woman and held strong, rigid opinions. She was born and died in the same house and never traveled farther than Boston for her honeymoon. She was an ardent Red Sox fan. When she was older, she babysat for other people's children until she couldn't do it any longer.

Both women had breast cancer. Gloria survived; Gummy didn't. I don't know if Gloria is happy. Truly happy. I don't think Gummy was a very happy person in general. I'm sure she had happy moments though. Many happy moments.

As I approach turning 65, I find myself reflecting a lot about my choices in life. I tested life's boundaries in my adulthood, raised a son alone, bought a house alone, ran for political office virtually alone as election day came, and married for the first time at 51. I am very healthy and a happy person. I still wrestle with demons from my past, but, except for moments here and there, they don't control me overall. I always said I didn't have money to risk at the gambling tables, so I risked at life.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say about making these comparisons, except that life was harder for my grandmother, than it was for Gloria. Of course, their priorities were different as was their struggle. My grandmother was just as strong a women as Gloria, and I think I attribute some of my inherited strength from Gummy and from my mother. My mother also had a hard life, but I think she found her own happiness along the way. Music was as big a respite for her as it is for me. Life was harder for women in the 1920's, 30's, 40's and 50's.

In my family, women had to work at a job outside the home to help support the family as well as be the homemaker. Politics were against women at every turn. They had no rights. There was zero equality with men. In the 1960's, all that began to change. And, Gloria helped define that change. She was a pioneer for change. She helped pave the way for more freedoms for women beyond the vote. Many women suffered and died to get men to grant the right to vote to women, and I never take that right for granted. But, Gloria began the fight for equal rights in the workplace: "equal pay for equal work". There is more work to be done here because women still do not receive equal pay compared to men, but she began the fight to break that "glass ceiling".

I learned in my own life, and I credit learning it from my mother and grandmother as well as the pioneering women in the news, that women do indeed "have a set". Our "set" is just hidden, as is our ability to achieve sexual satisfaction. It is buried and requires more work to achieve satisfaction. Men's lives are mostly defined by their penises: bigger equals more power. Their identity and their power is mostly defined by their work, their pay, their trucks, their guns, the amount they eat or the number of women they screw. Women tend to comment about men who brag about the size of their house or the things they own or do above as, "overcompensating for having a tiny penis."

I am being very crass here, I know. And, I know that not all men fit into the mold described above. There are always exceptions to every rule. I appreciate that. I married one of those exceptions, and am very grateful for him. But I had to wait fifty-one years to find him. And,a good friend had to die for him to be available. I raised a son who is one of those exceptions, but I know he is not without his own scars. I was finding my own "center", and he came along without having a choice in the matter. But, he grew up to be a really good, hard-working, conscious, articulate; intelligent and sensitive man, husband and provider in spite of me. I couldn't be prouder of him. But I do regret some of the things I did to him along the way, and some of the situations I put him through to find myself. I cannot undo the past, but I try to help heal some of the pain I inflicted now that I have "new eyes" with which to see the past, and new perspective with which to understand what and why I did what I did. Hindsight is always 20/20.

I was an unwed mother at age 20. In 1970, there was no support for this life choice. My family and friends were a great support system, but not every young woman has that kind of loving support. When I gave birth, I wore a gold band given to me by a woman friend at work, and took birthing classes as my father's wife. "Mrs. Paul Crowley" is the name on my birthing-class graduation certificate from Newton Wellesley Hospital. In the labor room, my father and sister, Margie, were made to leave, and I was alone with masked nurses and doctors who took my one request away from me: to allow me to watch my baby's birth in a mirror they set up. I called my family with the news from a wall phone a masked nurse handed me in the delivery room as I watched my as yet unwashed newborn stick his tongue out at me, making me laugh. I had always been a parent as the oldest of twelve, Irish-Catholic children, but when tears ran down my cheeks with happiness at the sight of my beautiful new son, I had no idea what all I was in for as an unwed, single mother and woman.

There are many more men out there who do fit into the mold I described above. Sadly, I dated a lot of them. Because, also sadly (and not much has changed in this day and age), girls and women like "the bad boys". My desire to be treated badly by "bad boys" came from low self-esteem. I'm sure this is true for everyone. But even with low self-esteem, the desire to fight for one's rights in this society is tied to something else entirely. The fight for rights comes from a desire more primal than low self-esteem, it comes from the need to survive.

The fight for survival is as primal as they come. And, women fought to survive in a male-dominated world, just as we continue to fight in that same world today. Women have many more rights than we did in the days of our mothers and grandmothers, even during my earlier years. But, we remain unequal in a society still dominated by testosterone. More estrogen needs to be injected in the human society, and not just in the United States.

I believe that when the human society of our world achieves complete balance of (fe)male, then we will have World Peace. Thank you, Gloria, and all your brave friends, who paved the way for the women of the "baby boom" age and for all those going forward. Without your courage and conviction to set an example of what is possible, we would not have role models "out there" to show us what we can achieve.

Thank you most of all to my mother, Ellie, and to Gummy for demonstrating what quiet strength is through and in our family life. Without you both, your daughters and granddaughters would be lost completely. I love and miss you both terribly, especially when I don't feel good.

Bear Has Cancer

My Friend, and one of my Loves, Bear, got cancer. Bummer. He is 60, and from North Haven, ME. He lives with his beautiful wife and my good Friend/Sistah, Pat. I assume they still have dogs; maybe cats too. It's been many years since Larry and I visited them at there home in Somerville, ME. Bear and Pat are mostly dealing with his disease and its treatments alone.

I was Primary Caretaker for my Mother and my Sister-In-Law. Caretaker is a hard, challenging, emotionally Sacred, painful Joy. I am blessed to have been of service to my Beloved. I would do it again if needed.

It is in my old Boyfriend, Bear. I call him Bear. Pat calls him Arthur. Pat and Bear attended my wedding to Larry twelve years ago, and drove to MA to attend my 60th birthday party. I met Bear in about 1983. They are Family to Me. I met his two children. I knew his ex-wife. I brought fancy sipping booze to the Island for Margie, Bear's Mother, to share on Her front porch in Her fancy, little glasses. We have History. All of Us. It's all good.

The week after Thanksgiving, I will visit Bear at Dana Farber (DF)  in Boston. He will live in DF-affiliated discounted housing because he lives forty miles or more from treatment. Pat can be with him as much as she can. She weighs being Superintendent of Schools in ME, and care of her animals and property. They are good, hard-working people, and I love them dearly. That they are now challenged by all that comes with Cancer, pains my heart. They need my help, and I am happy to be there for Them. We will work out what support I can provide. He will be there over the coming Holiday Season! Does that suck or what???!!!

We hope for some limited Family support in ME for Bear in Boston. Let's see what God and The Universe have in store for us in the coming months to the New Year. This Time is an opportunity to experience the true meaning of the Season: Love. Service. Joy. Satisfaction. Contribution, and Compassion. But most of all, Love. I do it for Love. That's it.

WindSync

My neighbor and friend, Nancy, has been talking about a brilliant wind ensemble called WindSync for a couple of years now. Every time they play locally, we are not in town. Last night, I was and went to Bristol, RI for one of their concerts. They are currently on a fourteen-day tour, culminating in a performance at Carnegie Hall on November 19th. The bassoonist of the group is her daughter's best friend.

Her husband, Mike, also invited a friend and colleague, Glenn, who plays harpsichord in their baroque musical trio, The Greybeards. I met Glenn for the first time last night, and he echoed about Mike what I just said about Nancy, "He's been talking about this group for years!" He had also never heard them play. We all had the pleasure of meeting a lovely family from Illinois, whose son, Tim, just got married and landed a great job teaching at Roger Williams University. They were visiting their son, and were just looking for something to do last night. They saw the sign in front of St. Michael's church, and listened to a few You-Tube numbers by Wind Sync. So, they decided to pop into the concert. Before the performance, we all had a lovely time sharing our stories and getting to know one another, in as much as one can get to know another in the course of an evening, of course.

Wind Sync was invited to play after performing in Tiverton last year. They were introduced by Sandy, Chair of the Community Concert Series at the church, and a good friend of our choral director, The Greater Tiverton Community Chorus, in which Nancy and I sing. Sandy made a point of describing the group as very young, "None of them look older than seventeen!" But assured us they were very professional.

Soon, the performance began with an introduction by Tracy, the Bassoonist. Her short speach was articulate and confident with a twist of humor. She joined the other four, and began to play "Wind Quintet in E-Flat Major, Op. 88, No3" by Anton Reicha (1770-1836). The next number was "Quintet for Winds, No. 3 (1999) by David Masianska (b. 1943), described as a modern composer and one of their favorites. It was by far my favorite movement. Their playing was fluid and mature, and they moved their bodies as they played, leading me to do the same. The group had wonderful rapport with one another, and their sound blended beautifully to completely fill the accoustic space. It was a magical performance. We were all just wowed by it.

The second half contained four pieces that most of us recognized. "Bolero" by Maurice Ravel (1875-1937) was beautiful rearranged by WindSync (I heard Tracy being given credit). Each member took turns playing the snare drum as they also each in turn played multiple versions of their instruments: more than one flute, oboe and clarinet. The bassoonist also play the saxaphone. It was a wonderful performance.

My other favorite besides "Bolero" was their most performed number, "Peter and the Wolf, Op. 67" by Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953), excerpted for wind quartet. For this performance, each member dawned the minimal costume of woodland creatures and the grandfather: the cat had ears and a tail, the duck had a bill on her head and a call around her neck, and wolf wore a mask, and the bird had a feathery mask on his head and a pink feathery boa around his neck. Grandfather wore a hat and a large beard. The horn player narrated the story, and also played the wolf. The ensemble danced around the stage and into the audience, engaging us in a very interactive performance. It was energetic, very entertaining, and beautifully played. The reason this was my favorite is because when my son was very young (he was a latch-key kid at six years old), he played his 78rpm LP of "Peter and the Wolf" to keep himself entertained and company while I worked. He loved this record and this song always reminds me of him, even if my heart aches a little each time I think of those days.

They replaced "Histoire du Tango", with their arrangement of Billy Joel's, "And So It Goes". Here we discovered that not only do these very talented young musicians play their instruments expertly and beautifully, they can also sing! This rendition was accapella and beautifully harmonized. Needless to say, at the end of the night, everyone jumped to their feet to give a rousing standing ovation. It was one of the best concerts I have heard in a long time. I bought their first CD and asked each to autograph it. I really enjoyed supporting their tour and their careers, just a little.

If you get a chance to see WindSync (check out their web site for their very full schedule), or are near Carnegie Hall on November 19th (I sent Billy Joel a message about it on Facebook, hoping he'll attend -- why not?), I highly recommend paying for a ticket. You will be very happy you did. Enjoy.

Our State Fair

After being sick with a cold all week and watching the SC State Fair coverage on local news, we decided to spend Saturday there. The Temptations were going to be in concert at 7:00pm, but we went too early, and I couldn't wait that late to see them. We were done at 5. I have never been to a State Fair, and Larry couldn't believe it has been over fifty years since he attended one. The theme song from Roger and Hammerstein's 1962 movie, State Fair, starring Pat Boone, my childhood idol, plays in my head every time I think about the fair. I was excited.

We arrived and all we could see were food stands. We decided to get a chicken in a pita sandwich before meandering around the grounds to get the lay of the land. We wandered first through the kiddie rides then onto the horror houses and houses of glass and many other kinds onto the rides that make you puke. There were three different kinds of Ferris wheels and we went on one as it started to sprinkle. Rain clouds hung overhead, threatening us most of the afternoon. We rode in a sky chair to see the grounds from on high, and lastly rode on one of my all-time favorites, The Matterhorn.

We wandered through all the connected exhibit buildings displaying the multitude of contestant entries vying for a ribbon in baking of everything you can think of, handicrafts and woodworking. Christian politics were there too. "Did you get your word of God yet?" the woman asked as she handed me a pocket-size New Testament. "No, thank you", I replied and moved on sliding the little book in my back jeans pocket. The anti-abortionists were there with their little plastic fetus displays and in another booth, a Christian man was intensely counseling someone. There were lots of commercial exhibits and demonstrations, but my favorite was the sand sculpture of a dragon surrounding his claimed castle. The detail of this sculpture was incredible.

We stopped on the way to the animals to listen to some "Mountain Music" by Jeff Robbins, who made his own banjos out of dogwood and a fruitcake box of his mother's. He was talented, fun and told great stories. Then we walked by a pretty blond woman who looked like she did standing Yoga poses while her little white poodle jumped over her bent legs on command.

We finally made it to the animal area and walked through the poultry house first. Every kind of duck, rooster, chicken and goose was on display. There were some very pretty and handsome specimens of every shape, size and color; squawking and cocka-doodle-dooing. The smell was very hen-house. A woman stopped to explain to us about the origins of a champion goose we stopped to admire. It was the largest goose I had ever seen. And, of course, in Gamecock Country, there was also a real cock.

We learned that showing prize goats is much like showing dogs at the Westminster Kennel Club; posing them with the handler placing their legs just so to be judged. We watched young people on horseback compete for ribbons, and just had to go see some beautiful specimens. We ended up in the cattle house and watched young people compete their prized cattle for that blue ribbon. The animals were so calm and seemed trained to perform on command

Walking through the stall areas for various farms showing their prized animals was really fun. The smell was not, and accidentally stepping in "paddula", as Larry kept calling the cattle shit I found on my shoe in the car after we left because I kept smelling it after we drove away, was not either. But I admired the animals and the care I saw of cowboys and farmers gently brushing each one to spiffy it up for sale. There were thank you signs to the buyers of their cattle stating the thousands they paid, and one that held a warning to anyone thinking it was okay to walk up to the ass end of a large bull, "Hugo will kick".

Lastly, I wanted to ride on the back of an elephant. Don't ask me why. I was at the State Fair! It was there, and I could. So I paid my six dollars and climbed on Fazzle's back, a female from India, who began our ride by laying a huge, loud fart which required shovelling, and a huge piss that loudly rained on the asphault before we walked onward. I loved it.

We had a great time at the fair, and were exhausted when we were done. It was time to head to the Liberty Tap and Grille in The Vista where we enjoyed a dark ale from Belgium (8.5%!), and I had shrimp and grits. It was delicious. Lastly, a high school was hosting a formal dance, so we were treated to a fashion show of dozens of young women and men dressed formally in all the bling and sparkle the females could muster and very handsome bow ties with white shirts on the young men. I complimented the table of youngsters closest to us and left them smiling with a, "Have fun!"

Now we're home watching the sixth ALCS game at Fenway park on television, yelling "Go Red Sox" at the TV and posting it on Facebook. I love social media!