THE IMPATIENT GARDENER

The day after Christmas I start telling people that "this time next month we can say that in one more month we'll only have a month to go until we see the first crocus." That pretty much sums up my feelings about winter. Although my partner can drive through a "white-out" on the way to our cottage and say "Isn't this beautiful?"....he's usually greeted by silence because Woof and I are under a blanket in the back seat. I'm reasonably sane until Christmas...then out come the spring catalogs, and new sketches for a garden expansion.

By January the primroses start appearing in the stores, and after finally figuring out that those amazingly colorful little plants like the cold, I now have them year round. I sat a few of them out of the way on the floor of my little greenhouse one year and they surprised me by thriving and blooming for months. They ended up in the garden that summer, and with this mild winter they've been shyly blooming for weeks now.

I had a nursery guy tell me about the new "Delta" pansies a few years ago that are really cold resistant. Ever notice how many pansies you see in the Fall lately? I wait for them to go on sale in October and last year paid 1.50 for a whole flat. They've been blooming on my back porch in window boxes ever since. The Witch Hazel is so full and bright this year that it almost looks like forsythia, and the purple and yellow crocus underneath look as though I actually planned the display.

I try to divide the snowdrops every year after they bloom, and as tedious as that quickly becomes, the payoff next year makes it worth it. If the moles or voles or whatever the heck they are would take a hike my tulips would look a whole lot better in April. I planted hundreds of the Darwin Hybrids a few years ago (they really are perennial) and they were magnificent until those ugly creatures discovered them. At least nobody eats the daffodils.

As soon a I see the big burlaped forsythia plants for sale I'll buy two of them, strain my back by potting them up, and bring them into our front hall. I got the idea watching a Mass from the Vatican (no less), and we'll have a Spring cocktail party where the guests will be appropriately awed by my brilliant display. Later I'll plant them at the lake...(the plants..not the guests). I'll start the sweet peas on my heat mat this weekend...and also plant some outside on Good Friday..which is a family tradition.

This is going to be a long "pre-spring"...it feels as if tomorrow ought to be the first of April instead of the first of March. No doubt there'll be another "white-out" or two to contend with, and maybe Woof and I will peek out the window just to see if we can spot a patch of green that will improve the view from our cozy nest in the back seat.

A LOSE LOSE SITUATION

I remember when the scariest person around was Sarah Palin...but then came Christine O'Donnel ( I am not a witch )...and Michelle Bachman and her frolicking gay changing husband, but I really don't think in all my born days that I've ever seen and heard such crazy talk from  two guys who really want to run this country. I guess Mr Mitt is a little more palatable than Mr Rick, but he's so different from most Americans, and comes across as such a phony....likes to fire people...makes ten thousand dollar wages....likes the height of the trees in Michigan...has a wife that drives a couple of Cadillacs...has friends who own Nascar teams...wants a Constitutional amendment to outlaw same sex marriage..wants to reinstate Don't Ask Don't Tell.. abused his dog...and is struggling to win the vote in his home state...and still thinks the bailout that saved the car industry there was a mistake....Good God!

Mr Rick is unpalatable period. Anti Gay...anti women working...anti birth control...anti separation of Church and State ( said he wanted to puke when he read JFK's speech about said separation )...thinks wanting a college education for your kids is "snobery"...is trigger happy with Iran....also thinks the Detroit bailout was a mistake...bilked Penn Hills for his kids cyber school (in Virginia)...doesn't want to take money from white people and give it to "bla"...( that was a classic! )...and wants to keep our troops in Afghanistan where they're still dying for people who hate them....GEEZE !

What's with the Republican party these days? Virginia, Alabama, and our own state of Pa have bills pushing really invasive procedures on women, arguing that a fertilized egg is a person...fighting about birth control...they're sounding crazier every day. Thank God I'm an intrinsically disordered gay liberal socialist anti-war radical feminist supporting cafeteria Catholic.

AM I MY BROTHER'S KEEPER ?

This morning I watched that horror unfolding at the school in Ohio, and realized how this kind of thing is familiar now. It made me think about my days as a classroom teacher, and the huge responsibility that I felt to keep those kids safe while they were in my care. Someone was talking this morning about how important it is not to ignore any threats, or unusual statements on social media...how most cases involving these school or workplace shootings involve a threat that was somehow overlooked or ignored. That's easier said than done. I taught some pretty rough kids in my day...kids that I felt I might well be reading about in the paper some day. I'm not sure what I could have done with that "sense" about a student when they hadn't actually done anything. What about all those statements you see on FACEBOOK where people say they're fed up...or done in...is that a signal to contact them to make sure they aren't suicidal?

We are our brother's keeper, but what about that neighbor who's really odd, and has a beautiful big dog that he never walks, and you worry about whether or not he feeds him enough....or the guy down the street who has lots of bright lights in his basement and lots of people who stop by for two minutes and then leave with a little bag...or the young couple who have screaming matches that wake up the neighborhood at three in the morning? How serious are these situations, and what can actually be done unless something really bad happens?

Five kids are in the hospital this morning, shot while they were in the cafeteria at their school. Maybe the shooter sent out threatening messages that should have been taken seriously, or maybe he was just that kid who always seemed angry, or picked on, or just somebody who seemed different. Hindsight....what a powerful word.

SISTER MARY ALBERTA C.D.P. conclusion

I think the May crowning convinced Sister Alberta that she was really dealing with a pack of demons and subversives. Things went from bad to worse for all of us as the school year was drawing to a close. Sister Lucy was shoved a little harder as Sister Alberta yelled "PLAY!", the already devout but hungry Paul Shennos ate his homemade scones with a touch of indigestion, while Sister watched him and shook her head. She watched Hipsy closely every time the poor thing walked in between the desks, just waiting for her full skirt to do more damage. The talk of serpents in the classroom became an everyday disussion as the asthmatic Jane Burd tried in vain to breathe normally. Donald was busier than ever opening and closing the door about a hundred times a day, and Sister was more prone than ever to fly off the handle.

Lots of Catholic school survivors tell stories about how they'd get in trouble in school, and when their parents found out, they'd be in double trouble. My family had a different take on that. When my mother was in the seventh grade, Sister Constancia (red flag....scary name) told the class not to hem and haw if they didn't know an answer, but instead they should just say " I don't know". My mother took her at her word, and when she was asked something, my mother replied that she didn't know the answer. Sister responded my cracking her. My mother promptly gathered up her things and went home and her mother made a phone call. Later that day Sister Constancia and another nun (they always traveled in pairs) came to the house and apologized. Like mother like son.

One hot morning in June, when all of the nuns in the building must have been ready to tear their wimples off from the heat, Sister Alberta turned on my quiet, always under the radar, girlfriend Barbara. Whatever she had done struck Barbara as unusually funny. Sister was in no mood for shenanigans that day, and started to refer to Barbara as a "monkey". (now as I just typed that word, I had to chuckle ). For some reason that STILL makes me laugh. Well that's just what happened on that summer day, and Sister Alberta went nuts. She flew down the aisle of laughers as the desk lids rose for protection and started to beat me up. It felt sort of like being attacked by a giant crow or something...arms flying, black and white all over me. Quick as a flash I grabbed my books and stood up...heading for the door. " Wetfeld...get the principal"...as the race began. Somehow she made it to the door before I did and stretched her arms out to block my exit. Just then my friend Jeff who sat near the front of the room yelled something that I'm sure may have already taken him to Hell. Sister Alberta whirled around to pounce on him, and Ray yelled "RUN ! " and quick as a flash I was gone.

I took a leisurely walk home, even stopped at Greasy Nick's for a coke, and arrived to find my Mom immediately on alert. "Did she hit you?" she snapped.

"Yep...because I laughed when she called Barbara a monkey" (smile again).

My Dad must have come home for lunch that day, because the two of them were on their way to the school very quickly. My mother says that they met with the culprit and the principal in the office, where Sister Alberta sat like a sweet little old lady with her hands in her lap. My mother still remembers that when Sister said " your son and I had a little falling out this morning" my mother had the urge to push her off her chair. (honest). Apologies followed of course, the principal confiding that they'd had "a lot of complaints".

I returned the next morning and was treated like the Golden Boy. I was praised for my musical skills, ignored when I'd laugh, and must have represented the final link between the classroom and the old nun's home. We all did graduate...even Ray who refused to bring a duster, and my final report card was a complete shock. Prior to our little "falling out". my grades were always kinda borderline, c's, a b or two, and "needs improvement" in all the social categories. I graduated that year with a perfect record. Straight A's..all "very goods", all a result of the monkey incident. Of course I was then placed in the highest level freshman class that Fall...with all the real brains from the parishes that fed into our High School, and was totally lost.

To say that my eighth grade experiences were memorable is an understatement....obviously. We had a 25 year reunion, and a great turn out several years ago. We talked and laughed until four in the morning, and after a few cocktails I disappeared and returned in a nun's habit that I'd made, carrying a yardstick and a cane. There was a quick moment of absolute shock..(terror?) as I began barking for Wetfeld to open the door....I swear he started to jump.

SISTER MARY ALBERTA C.D.P. PART 9

All hell broke loose at the May Crowning. The culminating event for the month of May was the crowning of the statue of Mary in the church. There was fierce competion for the role of the May Queen, who would often wear a wedding gown or something similar, and be surrounded by five or six runners up. I used to think the whole thing was fixed. Since Sister Alberta was the eighth grade teacher, it fell to her to organize and oversee the grand event for the entire parish. In those days, an event at the church brought everyone out to participate....maybe decorating the church, fashioning wreaths of flowers for the girls to wear, planning the reception, etc. There was always a grand procession, all the girls in the school of course, the second graders who had just made their first holy communion, all the choirs, and of course the queen and her court. All the nuns must have met in a secret conclave to chose my friend Susan as the May queen...I don't remember casting a ballot, but I do remember thinking it was rigged, but the nuns all liked Susan, popular vote be damned.

Once again math, science, history,and geography were tossed aside as we had hymns to learn and processions to practice. Sister Alberta commandeered the pulpit, had Donald test the microphone, and began whipping us into a version of the Nazi Youth. I can still hear her voice booming instructions about how the girls should drop their rose petals. " one, two,three, DROP ! one,two,three DROP!", while the choirs sang " Earth is darksome, we are weary, Satan lays his snares for all". ( Maybe that's where Rick Santorum picked up the Satan stuff). Sister's voice thundered above the music while the girls arms glided up and down with the petal drop. At one point she barked the following " Should anyone faint, step over the body and continue the procession". Some of the younger kids looked like they were heading to the gallows.

When the much anticipated big day finally arrived Sister was feeling the pressure. My cousin and I got to the church early, donned our cassocks and surpluses that our mothers had ironed, and began to line up. Now sister had been stressing the proper attire for the girls for weeks..."pastel dresses"...and as the girls began to arrive she was at the microphone clucking her approval as the soft shades of the rainbow started filling in. Then Jane arrived. Poor Jane had never recovered from the taffy apple incident, could never look Sister in the eye, and had developed a tremor ever since she'd arrived taffy apple-less in the Fall. Jane looked very fashionable, and absolutely doomed in her new black poodle skirt. Sister lost it. "POODLES! FOR THE BLESSED MOTHER ! POODLES!" I don't know what Jane did..I don't remember her dropping her rose petals...nor do I remember her at all after that fateful day.

What I do remember is how a person's life might ostensibly be ruined....all because of taffy apples and poodles.

THE NUN CRAWL PART TWO

Andrew and I decided to check out the Sheraton hotel where we planned to meet the bus the following night, just to make sure it would all work. No sooner had we entered the lobby when we started seeing quite a few nuns. My first thought was that we'd somehow screwed up the date for the crawl and my heart sank. It was immediately obvious however that what we were encountering were real nuns. They were in town for a convention...all from Puerto Rico as it turned out, all in traditional habits, and all speaking Spanish.

My pal and I settled in with a beer, and chuckled about what might have happened if the crawl and the convention had actually coincided. We pictured the Puerto Rican nuns getting on the bus along with our gang, and ending up at some crazy bar instead of a Vesper service at the Cathedral.

Arriving at the hotel the next night was quite an experience...just watching the nuns coming out of the parking garage and heading straight to the hotel bar for a bracer...a little liquid courage. Since this was about our fourth nun crawl, the hotel staff was somewhat familiar with us, and the guests got into the swing of things...taking pictures and having fun with the nuns. After about 30 minutes I assumed my duties as Mother Superior, blew my whistle, and lined up the convent. We paraded (processed) up the stairs and around the balcony singing Hail Holy Queen. This years bus driver was caught a bit off guard..but soon began to bless herself as each of us boarded, and thus assured herself of a good tip from the sisters.

Andrew and I had created the itinerary which this year included a German beer garden, a charity bingo at a synagogue, a gay bar, and a church that had been transformed into a bar/restaurant. To say that people were surprised when we swarmed through the doors is an understatement....maybe shock and awe would be a better description. When we entered the former church and attempted to march up the center aisle singing, we were halted in our tracks by the maitre d' who pointed his finger at me and said "OUT !"....when I asked why, he responded that "we've had enough protests here about what we've done with this church"...I politely pointed out that we were simply there for a drink.

The poor guy just stood there for a minute, and then said "oh...ok".

Realizing that this pack of nuns might well be angelic in appearance, they would also be as hungry as field hands by the time we got rolling, we always plan a stop somewhere for dinner. One year we stopped at THE OLD COUNTRY BUFFET...where the patrons almost choked on their chicken wings when fifty some tipsy nuns charged the joint. We got a rousing welcome another year at the ORIGINAL HOT DOG in Oakland.

While I'm of course responsible to use my whistle to keep control of the group, our friend George is always the " prefect of discipline" and he does a lousy job every time. With Andrew in charge of entertainment on the bus, he leads the singing, but also brings jello shots..which tend to excite the sisters way too much.

The people we run into on one of these crazy nights really enjoy the spectacle. I guess at first they're not really sure just what's going on, but very quickly catch the drift. We spread a lot of good cheer, and probably give a lot of people something to talk about when they get home. This year as the bus dropped us off back at the hotel I walked past a slightly drunk young woman who was standing by the hotel entrance. She was watching us all head for the parking lot and I heard her say " Jesus...they're EVERYWHERE ! "

THE NUN CRAWL PART ONE

Years ago I started collecting owls, and it didn't take long at all for me to get owled-out...they were taking over my life. Every holiday I got owls from people, owl napkins, owl toothpaste holders, owl lamps, and owl stationery. It got to the point where I was afraid to open a present, and dreaded the souvenirs I'd get when anyone came home from a trip. Eventually I sold my vast collection at a garage sale for a dollar, and cleansed my life forever of all things owl.

My owl period ended about ten years ago as I gradually entered into my nun period. I think it may have begun when the nuns threw their traditional habits into the dumpsters in favor of short black skirts and why bother veils. ( Can't you still spot a nun from a mile away...even in her new disguise? ). Some of my more twisted friends would dress up for Halloween as REAL nuns, and we were always a big hit at parties or in bars. I have quite a collection of pictures of my friends dressed as nuns from years past.

About five years ago I came up with the idea that one person dressed as an old fashioned nun is always funny, but a whole pack of them is even funnier.

I recruited one of my craziest friends to help organize a big group of people to don a habit and join us on Halloween. Andrew is the kind of a friend that I can call and say " I have a really crazy idea" and he'll say "count me in" even before I tell him what it is. I love Andrew.

We discussed suitable transportation for the sisters, and decided on a yellow school bus....seats for 57 nuns...and hopefully a driver with a sense of humor.

I of course was the self appointed Mother Superior, and immediately began to direct the requirements for a proper habit. None of that new militant lesbian look...nor any colors but black and white. Beards and mustaches were fine, as the Italian nuns had always been acceptable. Five yards of black material and a piece of poster board and a stapler would make a fine habit.

By the time Halloween arrived we had our 57 nuns chomping at the bit, and a waiting list of postulants should a vacancy occur. Andrew and I planned the evening, choosing unsuspecting venues where the bus would stop and the nuns would descend joyfully singing "How do you solve a problem like Maria?"