The view from up here. . .

In my mind, I've never been short. Actually, I've always seen myself as tall, blonde and blue-eyed. Why are you who know me laughing????

In reality, I achieved my final height of exactly 5' at the age of 16. This was no big surprise since both my father and mother, in true Ashkenazi heritage, were both very short. My sister Fran towered over us at 5'3". Never could figure out how that happened.

I mention this because photos taken over the past 15 years with the "significant other" and his family all look like I am standing in a deep hole. At 84, Benard has "shrunk" to 6'1". Son Leon, who is currently visiting, is at least 6'2", and son Jack is like 6'3". Even most of the grandkids are 6 footers so you get the picture.

At my current height of 4'11" (I've written in the past of the trauma I experienced when I first learned that I had descended an inch into near-gnomehood), photographs taken with normal height people have become downright embarassing. That's why the sheer brilliance of the photo posted here today made me decide to share it with all of you.

Finally! A photo where I am on level ground (well, maybe not ground exactly) with everyone else. In fact, I may even be an inch or two taller. A moment to remember. That's Benard on the left and Leon on the right, taken after lunch at a delightful outdoor restaurant by their Cousin Iris (also tall).

From now on, I'm considering carrying a small collapsible bench with me to all potential photo shoots. I always knew I was meant to be tall. It just took a while to figure out how.

Something to think about. . . .

A few years ago, the sportswriter and author, Mitch Albom, wrote a book titled "One More Day". The book's theme posits "If you had the opportunity to spend one more day with a lost loved one, who would you choose?"

That thought comes to mind every time I return from my Wednesday morning art class. I never fail to wish I could have one more conversation with my Mother.

Mother took up painting at age 70 and turned out to be an extremely talented artist. We all thought it was remarkable for her to start something new "at such an advanced age". That makes me smile since I've been painting for less than two years and obviously started a good bit older. 70 is just a little kid from my vantage point.

But back to the conversation I would give anything to have with her. Although everyone in the family was happy to snatch up her paintings the minute she finished one.. .I have two hanging in my home, my sister Fran has several more. . .none of us ever took the time to ask her about her art, how and why she chose her specific genre, how she developed her technique and how she got so good with so little instruction.

Mother's paintings are all fairly large and highly detailed. I paint with broad strokes because I'm always in a hurry. (Take a look at the two paintings I've posted. . pretty easy to see who did what, isn't it?)

That's another thing I'd like to ask her about . . .how did she manage to paint such minute details and did she enjoy doing it. I've tried, but I just don't have the patience, or I guess, the talent. I tend to start and finish a painting in one session, although I am trying to learn to slow down. I realize now that hers must have taken weeks to complete. In retrospect, I am appalled at how little I really knew about this woman I called Mother.

I guess the point of this blog is that we don't always take the opportunity to have conversations with people we love before it's too late. I'm pretty sure each of you would like "one more day" with someone who was important in your life.

Think about it.
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It's Super Bowl time. . .

Gee, it's Super Bowl weekend. Guess where we will be on Sunday afternoon. In front of the TV, but to tell you the truth, I don't have a preference between Green Bay and the Steelers. Maybe I'll root for the Packers because Ben Rothlisberger is such a jerk. I'll have to think about it when the game starts.

I miss the good old days when the Dolphins gave us a run for our money and actually went to the Super Bowl. Our family had season tickets from the first game the team ever played, back when the only place to go was the old Orange Bowl. The bathrooms were terrible, parking was impossible and the seats were hard wood benches, but the atmosphere was electric and we never missed a game.

My grandson Adam was born in late November of 1978, at the height of the football season. His Mom and Dad attended all the games with us in those days, right up to the Sunday game two days before he was born. The late stage of pregnancy was no reason to miss an important game. No wonder the kid grew up loving sports.

I remember one exciting game when the Dolphins were behind, time was running out, and the offense had suddenly come alive and was moving down the field. A few rows down from where we were seated a man suffered a heart attack and the EMT's were treating him in his seat, obscuring the view of the action on the field for those sitting in the rows behind. I'm ashamed to say that everyone started yelling "Down in front, down in front" to the non-plussed emergency workers. That's the kind of crazy fans we were in those days.

In the Dolphins' glory days, my pr firm was representing the South Florida Auto Show. One of the best attended evening was always "Miami Dolphin Night" when it was my job to hire the most popular players to meet and greet people attending the show. It was also my job to think up crazy promotions, one of which was "Miss Hood Ornament", a sexy blonde that we had photographed with the players holding her extended over the hood of a car. Don't laugh, it got great press coverage and the players loved it.

The players in the photo above will only look familiar to died-in-the-wool Miami fans, but in their day, you would have known them immediately. Left to right, Tim Foley, Manny Fernandez, Jim Kiick and the one-and-only Larry Csonka. That's Miss Auto Show in the middle and a much younger (and thinner) Joan on the right holding the football.

Wow! Did I ever really look like that?????
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