Welcome to my STORIES page. I hope you enjoy the tales and anecdotes that follow. May they encourage you to share a few memories of your own.
(click on the title for the full story)
My journey as a storyteller probably began the minute I could talk. I am told that by second grade I was spinning tales at the dinner table that sometimes seemed never-ending.
Some friendships start by happenstance and are easy to sustain, others take some effort, especially when taking into consideration the hurdles of time and distance.
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If you grew up in New Jersey and your family is Italian you have most likely collected a few old and delicious recipes along the way.
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This is a story about Meatballs and Gravy.
We were having a cold, wet December. The year was 1980, and I was working for a Spanish language TV station in Paterson NJ.
I was three years old, and I remember going on construction jobs with him! I’m sure my memories are embellished by what others have told me, but ...
My dad passed away suddenly and unexpectedly in 1989. He was so young and we were so unprepared.
A few days after he left this world, I was hoping and praying for a glimpse of him, perhaps in a vivid memory or even in a dream.
I imagine most, if not all of you have named your pets. When you were younger you probably named your dolls. Since I did not play with dolls, I named my stuffed toys. I had Snowy the lamb, Pepe the dachshund and Teddy the bear.
On our journey through life, we sometimes collect a few gems – other people’s stories that stay with us, teach us, and sometimes even change us.
Most of you know that I am a first-generation Italo-Venezuelan American!
Where do you shop for your trees, shrubs, plants, etc? 35 years ago, I was shopping at Kmart's Garden Center, because that’s all I could afford at the time. I walked into the garden area at 35th & Greenway and lo and behold - in the garbage can - I saw two trees that were “mostly dead”. A mesquite and a green bottle tree.
Most of you probably have a designated person who cuts their hair just so. Right? Someone you have trusted for years? I know I do. But one time, when in Rome … or rather in Florence, Italy ...
Does this sound familiar? “In an Italian family we don’t go to therapy. We have sisters, cousins, or aunts for that, but we don’t go to therapy.” or “In our family, we don’t air our dirty laundry!”
It was late summer 2006 and I was at the Metrocenter Mall for a school district event. I was working at a table when my co-worker Marjorie came up to me, grabbed me by the arm and said, “You must come and meet your new dog!” I thought she was joking, but she literally dragged me through the mall to the pet store, the last place I would have shopped for a pet, pulling me by the arm all the way.
