Butterfingers and Klondike Bars

I love a lot of aspects of the swimming pool, but by far the best part of being in the pool is the fact that I have absolutely no pain in my body when in the water.  I can stand straight up for hours if need be, my knees feel fine, my back feels great, my hands don't fall asleep - it's wonderful.  I feel like a young person again.  It's a "machia" (pleasure) as my mother would say, although I know I spelled that wrong.  When you pronounce this, you have to say the "ch" with a gutteral sound - like when you gargle.  Hard to explain in writing...

The clouds floated slowly by this afternoon, as I floated slowly in the pool.  I saw many different faces in the clouds and it reminded me of when I was a kid.  In the summertime, I would lay on the grass at the park by my house and make pictures out of the clouds that passed overhead and thought a lot about life and God.  It was about that same time that I started wondering what happens when a person dies, which put a great deal of fear into my heart and mind.  I don’t remember talking about it with anyone, as my parents were never really “there” for me, emotionally.  I don’t think they had the slightest idea of how to really communicate with us.  But I suppose it’s just a vicious circle, because I’m sure their parents were the same, if not worse.  I remember saying “prayers” to God as I laid in my bed at night, crossing myself as I saw people do in movies.  In my own childish way, I was trying to communicate with a God I believed in, but wasn’t taught how to do so by anyone, so I made it up as I went along.  For some reason, I hid the fact that I was “praying” and was very quiet so my mother would not hear; and when she happened to come into my room to tuck me in, I quickly stopped and pretended like I was sleeping.  I had the idea that she would have thought it foolish to be doing what I was doing, and so I kept it to myself.

My dad has been talking a lot to me lately.  He reminicises about his childhood or what he and my mom have done over the years.  He told me today that his grandpa was a very gentle man who was a blacksmith by trade.  My dad was his favorite, as he was the first-born grandchild, and of course, a boy.  My dad's dad, my papa, was a very gentle man as well.  I loved my papa and I think I was his favorite, although that was never said.  Before my papa died of colon cancer, in 1975, I went to visit him at the nursing home and I still remember what he said to me.  He had icy-blue eyes and when he talked, he spoke very slow.  He told me that I had beautiful hair, and that I should never cut my hair no matter who says otherwise.  I thought at the time it was a strange thing to say, but I'll always remember it.  I miss my Papa still...

My mom looked really good today.  She was sitting up in the wheelchair and actually took a few steps in physical therapy.  I'm hoping she'll be able to come home within a few weeks.  And then when she comes home, I'll have to get rid of my candy stash!  God forbid she goes in my room and sees the miniature Butterfingers I have stashed in there!  I'd never hear the end of it!  When we were kids, my mother would always "look" at me when I was about to indulge in something fattening, with the look that says, "Now you really don't need that, do you?"  I would try to ignore her, but her stare could pierce steel.  She's perfected that "look" with the Jewish guilt thing and is highly skillful in its use.  When we were kids, there was a freezer in the basement that had a supply of little pound cakes for my father, and Danny and I would sneak downstairs to eat them, unbeknownst to my mother, stuffing the wrapping at the bottom of the garbage can.  We did this for a long time until she realized they were disappearing quickly.  And then, of course, that was the end of our pound cake orgy.

My parents have this weird obsession with weight.  When describing someone, they will always comment, "Oh my, look how much weight she has gained!" or "Oy vey, he has lost so much weight, I wonder if he is sick" or "She shouldn't eat another drop - she's so overweight, I fear for her health!" or "Have you lost a few pounds, honey? You look 10 years younger!"  Yes, this formed my totally unhealthy self image, and it lingers with me still today.  The proof is in the pudding (and I love pudding).

So tonight my dad and I went grocery shopping, insisting to go with me, because I think he really likes to choose different foods that my mother would not approve of.  I'm sure my mother wouldn't let him get the things I say, "Sure dad, if you want it, let's get it."  He wanted Klondike bars and I showed him that there was sugar-free ones (because that's what my mother insists he eats), and he picked them up then put them back and grabbed the good ones which have the sugar and slyly said, "Don't tell your mother."  Dad, you can be sure I won't!