Mama Maisano - Rest in Peace

THE TIN BOX

When my Dad came to America he was 18. He was here for a year then drafted into the US Army- WW2- da big one, as he would say.

He always had this tin box and every once in a while he would say, “Mariana go getta Daddy da box”.

I came to find out that box was from the war and he had all his important papers in it.

Since my Mom took a turn for the worse with her health my brother cracked into “THE TIN BOX” to get some of her important papers.

Oddly it was still Daddy’s box as when it was told to me he said I went into Daddy’s tin box.

It made me think~

Is that what we all come down to!

A tin box?

Uncertainty, fear and sadness can really take a toll on you. You have an inordinate amount of emotions that make you feel almost bi-polar. One minute you’re angry, then sad. You find yourself talking to God and requesting a rally for life or a passage home.

It’s the one time in life that you really have no control over the situation. You simply have to wait.

My siblings and I were at odds and the next second crying.

There I was in the middle of my family, Tony Soprano, Carmella and Janice.

Once Hospice came it was like a miracle and a weight was lifted. All I wanted was my Mom to be comfortable and not struggle.

My Mom was an amazing woman who lived a hard life.

Her Dad was from Naples and her Mom died giving childbirth to the 5th sibling. My Grandpa had to put the four kids in an orphanage, as he could not feed them. When he got enough money he got them out but the youngest was adopted.

At eight years old my Mom became “The Mom” for all of her siblings. At eight!

At eight years old I could barely unravel my slinky and she was the head of the household.

At 16 she married Dad.

When Dad came home he opened a Taxi company and she was raising us and answering the phone and saying breaker, breaker 1-9 to dispatch calls. We lived no more then 500 feet from the George Washington Bridge and Dad put a sign out on house that said commuter-parking 50 cents. So now she was cooking, cleaning, taking care of us, answering the phones and parking cars.

The one thing in life she loved the most was us, her kids.

You would think we were still 12 years old. She was my biggest fanJ

When I resigned my position to follow my passions I did not tell her. I thought OMG she will flip.

Ya know how she found out?

The newspaper did this huge article on the show and me.

She called me and said, Babe, its Mommy.

I just read the paper and they did a great job. I am so proud of you Honey.

I said Ma, I had to leave the bank to make things happen, do you understand?

All she said was, “you are my Baby, you can do anything”!

I know that grieving is a process and it takes time. However I choose to celebrate her and her life.

She always made me laugh and did the funniest things that to this day are part of my act because you really cant make this shit up.

So everyday of my life will be a tribute to hers.

She was the toughest Italian Chick I knewJ

God Bless you Mommy!

And Daddy you better be waiting with dinner or she will be pissed J

THE MOVEMENT

THE MOVEMENT

We have all this support for the Tea Party Movement – The Coffee Party Movement – and so on...

However we have all missed DA big one - THE BOWEL MOVEMENT...

Where are the fundraisers – the awareness – the government subsidies?

Look regardless if you talk about it or not we all know it exists.

We also know if it don’t happen how messed up your day is!

The Bowel Movement is so tied into our day to day. During my research I have discovered something.

Apparently the Bowel Movement is temperamental, meaning if you throw it off schedule you are finished.

It rebels! If you find yourself in a time crunch you’re Bowel will indeed start playing its games.

Case study:

You are up early but have to be somewhere at a certain time. You have the coffee, as the Bowel Movement loves that and the oatmeal. On an unhurried day all is fine but on this day you now start feeling the revolt. The Bowel pretends that it’s ready. You have all the signs! Yet when you attempt to help it your Bowel says – nope, no way, Nada..

 False alarm. Hummmmmmmm..

So you play the game go about your business getting ready thinking you can out wit it. Still looking at the clock.

Then you get another sign it could happen. You run to the throne, get in the stance and you feel like you are passing a tree!!  Only to find out it was one rock. Yes you heard me – a rock.

This happens to the best of us. But where are the support groups?

I can see it now, a church basement with coffee and prunes. People coming with their faces in pain.  New members stand up and say: my name is Sal it’s been 3 rocks since the last Movement~

Timing is key here, as Da Bowel does not like its schedule rearranged. So if you are having this issue.

Take your time! Screw it, call your boss and say look I got rocks I am gonna be late. As a matter of fact I have to start work at 9 because these hours are killin me...Tell him you are part of the Movement.

So be kind to da Movement and it will respect and work with you..

That’s where Rock, Scissor, Paper came from..

Tomorrow I am sleepin in...