Same Old Dog, but This Time With a New Trick

First, a comment about the "old dog" reference:  When I took Hogan to the groomer last week, she asked me his age (almost 9) and then checked the box for "elderly dog" on his paperwork.  I haven't told him this yet.  Let's keep it our little secret.

We always thought it was cute in years past when we'd give Hogan a wrapped Christmas present (almost always a stuffed toy) and he'd rip into it.

But this year, he was on to the whole "Santa coming down the chimney" trick...  On Christmas Eve, all of the presents were wrapped and arranged under the tree.  Most of us were out in the kitchen, getting ready for dinner.  Then we heard a little rustling in the family room and look up to see Mr. Hogan picking through the presents under the tree.  Wouldn't you know, he found one of his own gifts!!  But here's the better part, when Todd "gently reprimanded" him, he looked up -- all cute and innocent of course -- and had a small bit of wrapping paper stuck to his lip!!! Ha! Ha!  We didn't get a picture of that, too bad.  After that, Todd removed the package to the counter to eliminate the possibility of any further indiscretions.

Fast forward a few hours.  Now we're unwrapping presents and Hogan is actually ALLOWED to have at it this time.   I captured a couple of them on video.  Watch how methodically he goes at each one!  Hil-arious!!!  ...and then the sheer joy when he discovers it's not merely a stuffed toy, but a Bully Stick, too!! 

Dear God: When I asked for snow I didn't mean ALL AT ONCE!

We haven't had a *flake* of snow to speak of all season.  OK, I know that winter officially started just a few days ago, but you know what I mean.  I've been blaming my "lack of Christmas spirit" on the fact that we've had merely a dusting or two since October.

Christmas Day, we might as well have been in Miami -- though we had temperatures more like those in Minneapolis. 

Then the weather reports started to come in...

We wake up on Dec. 26th to alarming forecasts, travel advisories, and winter storm warnings.  Yet the ground is still dry. 

Mom and Dad give each other "that look" that says we better get out of here before we get stranded here for the rest of the week.   Of course, that wouldn't bother me, but Todd was (I'm sure) hoping they'd get on the road to enjoy a safe and comfortable journey.  ;)

So they hit the road.  At about 10:30 that morning.

A mere 20 minutes later, Todd and I get in the car to do some errands and the entire driveway is covered and white!  I swear, the snow started the second they pulled out of the driveway.  And it hasn't stopped since!!

I don't know what the official stats are, but I do know that it's the first time that we are COMPLETELY UNABLE to get out of the driveway since we've lived here.  There was a snow drift that came up to the brass handle on the front door of the house (up and over the three-step cement stairs).   We have to dig a little "area" where Hogan can "go", since the snow is deeper than his chest! 

And then it happened...I'm surveying the back yard from the window of the bathroom.  I jump into the shower and no less than a second later, I feel the house rumble.  From the glass-enclosed shower, I can see a huge puff of snow and then, a second later, a 60-foot tree laying across the entire back yard.  We can't even get a crew in here to remove it till the landscapers come to plow us out.

I asked for snow for Christmas, but sheesh!

A Debt of Gratitude

Earlier this week, the Erie chapter of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society hosted a "Light the Night" event at Jerry Uht Park.  My mom captained a team--mostly of people from the German club, but also lots of friends and family--and Dad was the honorary "survivor" for their team: Walking with Paul.

I'm so proud that they raised well over $2,000 (and still counting), and I'm equally grateful for all of my friends who contributed to the cause.

I feel compelled to reprint my Dad's story of survival in case anyone stumbles to this site on a google search, looking for support, and hope, if they are dealing with something similar.  Read on, it'll be worth it...

“You are The Wind Beneath My Wings”
September 8th, 2009 was a bittersweet day for me. It started out as a day of triumph; I had beaten a serious health issue and this day was to be the final step in my recovery. It was a beautiful fall morning and we were making the 100+ mile trip to the Cleveland Clinic where I was scheduled to have a pacemaker-defibrillator implanted that morning, this the final step in my getting back on track after a bout with congenital heart failure. Nancy and I talked about how fortunate we were that we were led to the Cleveland Clinic and how they so quickly diagnosed my condition and turned the situation around.


After routine blood work that morning we met with my lead Doctor David Taylor, who already had the results of that morning’s blood work on his computer. I could tell from his body language that he was perplexed. He turned around and said he had great news . . . my heart had improved so dramatically that I no longer qualified for a pacemaker! WOW, I thought. I'm totally cured and we can go back to Erie and celebrate.


But just as quickly as Dr. Taylor made that pronouncement he added that he did however, see some numbers in that morning’s blood work that ‘puzzled’ him and that he had already made arrangements to have me sent to the Clinic’s Taussig Center where they specialized in hematology. I was feeling fine and assumed that the ‘numbers’ were surely an aberration. I was still flying high until we reached the Taussig Center several blocks from the CC Heart Clinic. We rounded a corner and were greeted by the sign . . . ‘Cleveland Clinic Taussig Cancer Center’. The wind beneath my wings totally disappeared and both Nancy and I were overcome with apprehension, fear, anxiety and emotions I didn't realize I possessed. Dr. Stephan Smith was waiting for us and as he began a cursory look at his computer account of my blood work from earlier that morning he simply said “OK . . . we're going to start by having you transfused with a little more blood”. There was not much else said and within minutes I was in another room being infused what ultimately turned out to be 3 units of blood! My tank was really low. During the infusion I thought that surely this came about as a result of what I had just been through over the past year rebuilding after the heart problem and that I would be released after my tank was topped off.


More blood work . . . and a brief wait. Dr. Smith read the new results and said, “Ah . . . this looks better” and just as quickly he added, “ . . . you really shouldn't be here!” I assumed that he meant that they should have taken care of this matter back at the Heart Clinic. Curious about the comment I asked what he had meant. He said that the results of the earlier blood work that morning indicated numbers in one area that were off the bottom of the chart for being minimal to stay alive! I think that what he meant was that I should be dead! Dr Smith continued by saying that he didn't know the reason for the ‘off-the-chart’ numbers but that he was admitting me again and scheduling more tests.


By the end of that day I had so many tests that I can no longer remember them all. Bone chip from the hip, bone marrow sampling, heart cauterization, MRI, CAT, XYZ . . .


Nancy returned to Erie late that day and by midnight they had finally put me in a room and left me alone for what turned into a totally sleepless night of anxiety.


The following morning Dr. Smith came in to report on the initial findings, which at the moment were inconclusive. More tests, X-rays, blood work etc. . . . Nancy arrived from Erie shortly after noon, just as Dr. Smith came in again for his next report. This time he said that they were going to release me! I thought that my earlier suspicions of this whole thing being an aberration had been confirmed and I was good to go. Not exactly so. Dr. Smith handed me several prescriptions for testing and transfusions, should I need them, to be done in Erie, until they get the results of the bone and marrow biopsies, which would be a couple of days longer. He went on to say that what they saw so far looked like a type of blood cancer but they couldn't be certain. He qualified that further by saying that they had absolutely ruled out leukemia. (For what that’s worth.)


Indeed I did need more transfusions the following 2 days all done in Erie but under the monitoring and direction of Dr. Smith from his Cleveland office. Three days after that fateful day of September 8th, Dr. Smith phoned and asked that I return to Cleveland the following morning; they had gotten the results of the biopsies.


This would be a brief meeting. Dr. Smith said that his initial suspicions had been confirmed . . . . . I had a rare form of blood cancer, incurable but treatable! The euphoria of the trip to Cleveland the morning of September 8th had now turned into a death sentence, or so I felt at the moment. Dr. Smith went on . . . “Very little is known about Waldenstrom Macroglobulinemia, and the known treatments are largely trial and error.” He offered that there was one drug that works well in some cases of this cancer and that it appears to be my best option short of doing nothing in which case the prognostication would be about 2 years at best. He went on to explain that the chemotherapy drug Rituximab, in combination with steroids, would be his advice. The option of doing nothing is certainly not good so we agreed to start the chemotherapy regimen.


Nancy and I had been coordinating a European river cruise for a large group, to begin soon after this visit. I told Dr. Smith that there was no way I was going to let those people down and that I would be going on the trip. He had wanted to start the chemo treatments almost immediately. Although he strongly advised against my prolonging treatment and traveling he eventually consented conditionally. He had a German doctor on the CC staff write a brief description of my condition plus scripts for blood transfusions and medications all in German. He cautioned against over exerting myself and wished us a ‘bon voyage’! Before leaving the CC that day Dr. Smith set up a schedule for the first of a series of chemo and steroid treatments to begin immediately on our return from Europe. The trip went reasonably well for me aside from weakness and lack of energy but I didn’t feel the need to use any of my German scripts while traveling.


From the moment that Dr. Smith first used the term Waldenstrom Macroglobulinemia, I spent hours researching the Internet for anything at all I could find out about this cancer, possible treatments, etc. I had printed out reams if information, researched support groups and organizations, etc. and had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be a survivor of this dreaded disease. I was very aware that in rare cases the infusion of the chemo drug itself was known to cause death. However, the option of no treatment was certain death, which for me was a no-brainer. Let’s get on with it!


The first chemo infusion got off to an anxious start. It was to be an 8-hour affair and when the drip was started there were 2 RNs constantly in the room with their attention glued on several monitoring devices and screens. The flow rate was set very low at first and without any apparent reactions it was gradually increased after the first hour. Shortly after the increase in the flow rate I suddenly felt extremely cold and began to convulse badly. I recall the ‘code red’ going out and all sorts of action and attention instantly being focused on me. Dr. Smith got the word immediately and ordered the infusion stopped and an injection of something to counteract the reaction. This worked instantly and after a bit of excitement the Rituximab infusion was restarted, only at a much slower rate!


The following 8 hours were fairly mundane and I was released to go home with the caution that I would likely become quite exhausted and possibly start to lose hair. There’s not much hair to lose so that’s not going to be a problem and I could care less if the lawn doesn't get mowed or the leaves raked. The homestead of the past 40 years is starting to become a burden anyway.


The caution about the weakness thing was oh so right but I never lost a hair over the next few weeks. In the ensuing three weeks before my next scheduled chemo treatment there were more blood tests, a couple more transfusions and I gradually began to regain some strength and wanted to do things. I took this as a sign that the miracle drug was working but we wouldn't know for sure until my next trip to the CC for an in-depth examination, scheduled for late November.


It was a blustery pre-winter day when we went to Cleveland for the next exam and chemo treatment. Immediately on arrival you go through the routine dog-and-pony act of blood work, urine sampling, etc. and today was no different. Once again the anxiety set in as we waited almost an hour before being called in to see Dr. Smith. His demeanor seemed upbeat as he studied the results of the morning tests on his computer. (‘is he patronizing us’ . . . I had become a little suspicious, I guess.) I should have known better than to be suspicious of Dr. Smith. He is as forthright and sincere as any MD I've ever encountered. Then he rather excitedly said “WOW . . . look at this . . . “ and he turned the computer screen so we could see my progress in graph form. It was all uphill!!! The drug was working . . . and quite impressively at that. I sincerely feel that Dr. Smith was just as ecstatic as I, not knowing what to expect. (Do you believe in miracles?)


Each scheduled infusion of chemo was progressively easier and less time consuming and the progress chart continued on an upward trend. In March of 2010 I was scheduled for a final infusion. That morning at the CC started with the usual tests, etc. and a meeting with Dr. Smith before the treatment. This time I could read the excitement on his face as he quickly turned his monitor screen around to reveal the latest graph image of my progress with the line near the top of the screen! His only comment was . . . “From what I'm seeing I would like to tell you that you are cured, but we know that with Waldenstrom’s that’s not possible so I'm declaring you in remission!” That one word was the most beautiful word I've ever heard. Dr. Smith is quite young and he’s about to get married soon after this visit and I'm certain that this apparent success has added positively to his day, also.


Two more booster infusions since that day have further restored me to reasonably good health. Dr. Smith is now happily married and I have had plenty of time to reflect on my life and my good fortune especially over the past two years. Nancy and I have moved into a new condo where there’s no outside maintenance and I can sit and watch the grass grow!


I owe a deep debt of gratitude to so many people, doctors, my wife, my family, friends, etc. But foremost among these I can never repay the research and support organizations such as the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society for the work they have done and continue to do in developing treatments, programs and miracle drugs such as Rituximab. They have truly restored the wind beneath my wings . . . I am once again soaring with the eagles.


My most sincere and heartfelt thanks to each of you who have so generously donated to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society ‘Light the Night Walk’, which funds this research and these programs. By donating in my name you are not doing this for me but rather in my honor. I have been saved. You are doing this for those who are less fortunate and for those who will be diagnosed with one of these blood cancers in the future in the hope that one day total cures will be found to completely eradicate these dreaded diseases. Together we can provide the wind beneath their wings that will lift them up to soar with the eagles!


A most humble and sincere thanks,


Paul E. Fischer, Survivor


PS:  I am so proud of my wife and her efforts for captaining a fund raising team in my name for the annual ‘Light the Night’ walk for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. With your help her team has collectively raised more than $2,000 for the cause. If you have not yet donated but are so inclined I humbly beg you to consider by visit her web site at:


http://pages.lightthenight.org/wpa/ErieCo10/NFischer

 Mom, Marty, Mark, Dad and Katie, before the walk.

"There's no better way to fly..."

Train?  In Trumbull, Connecticut?  How does that happen?

The ONE concert of the year and they pick a band where I have a hook-up!  Mom zipped off an e-mail to Pat, and next thing you know, we're shaking hands backstage!

It was a GORGEOUS night.  We had great seats.  Todd took AMAZING pictures (link below), and then, of all things... He offered his backstage pass to Jen!!  The guys (Todd and Joe) went home for post-concert cocktails while the "groupies" stayed behind for the visit.

In all, a great night in Trumbull, CT!  Thanks, Pat (oh, and Mom, of course)!



Click here to view photos on Snapfish!

My Weekend of Pride and Joy (Joy and Pride?)

This past was the perfect summer weekend for a TT roadtrip.


Joy: Friday. 360+ miles. Sunshine. Top down. Tunes crankin'.


Joy: Allison's 10th birthday, complete with her choice of fast food dinner at Chick Fil-A, and...


Joy: an Abba tribute band at Chautauqua! The Harle girls were "besides themselves" with a chance to sing along with every word to every song from Mama Mia! Shoot, we were all "besides ourselves!"

Joy: Front and center seats, thanks to Mark's connections, and...


Joy: ...a back stage visit with the singers after the performance!!!

Joy: Birthday shopping at the mall with Allison (Though I'm not a fan of the mall, this was quite fun).


Joy: Visiting Grandma and Joey at Wegman's. Grandma was giving out ice cream samples...what's better than that???


Joy: A wine pairing dinner at Quincy Cellars in Ripley, NY with Amy as my "date"!!! Great company, great food, great wine. Pure joy!

Joy: My first visit to the Chervenka Family Reunion in over 30 years. Did I hear someone recognize all of the "strong Czech women" in this family?


Joy: An AMAZING tour (see "Pride" below) of the Chautauqua organ.


Joy: "Family" dinner at mom and dad's with Mark and all his kids--including his son-in-law to be. It's always great when the forces of the universe give us a few short hours when everyone can be together. And this was one of those nights.




And now the PRIDE part...
In 1993 my dad and brother completed the historic restoration of the Chautauqua organ. Since that time, they've given 90-minute organ tours every-other-Sunday during the season -- for the last seventeen years. Dad did the tours in the early years, but Mark has taken over of late.

Sunday was the second-to-last tour scheduled for the season, so we decided to go take it in. On the drive to Chautauqua I was pumping mom and dad for what to expect. "So, how are Mark's public speaking skills?" They assured me that he "holds his own," so I decided to go with that.

"WOW!" Are you kidding me?

That was perhaps the greatest tour on any subject that I have ever seen!!!

Mark was so articulate, clear, knowledgable, interesting, competent, sometimes funny, confident, human...you name it. People in companies all over the world pay people like me top dollar to train executives to achieve just one or two of these qualities when speaking before others. No one masters, and consistently delivers on, so many like Mark does.

At the end of the tour (and after he wowed the assembled group of 50+ with a Bach tocatta), I heard two refined-looking gentlemen walk away in awe, saying it he was an incredible tour guide. They were clearly blown away -- and not because of any bellows in the organ!

When I asked Mark how he learned to do all that, he had to stop and think. "I don't know...it just comes naturally," he proposed. If that's so, then Mark's the Tiger Woods (I hate that it's so hard to hold him up as an example anymore) of tour guides -- naturally gifted like no one else!!

I can't remember another time in my life when I was so proud to be Carla Fischer -- Mark's sister and the daughter of an organ builder. I was swelling with pride (and a few tears) by the end of the 90 minutes.


Remarkably, at the end of the tour, one of the fascinated participants approached both Dad and Mark, requesting an autograph. Both said that was the first time that ever happened.

I don't know why, all things here considered.











Click here to view photos including video clips from Mama Mia and Dancing Queen (oh, and Waldo in a diaper)!!

More fun than you can have with your...cell phone off!

What else do you do on a Saturday in July when it's 95 degrees and oppressively humid? "Hit the river," that's what I say.

I've been getting email from Farmington River Tubing for at least 5 years and finally, on Saturday, we indulged.

Er, it was hardly an indulgence, since, for a mere twenty dollars we each enjoyed two and a half hours of pure bliss floating down the icy cold Farmington River about 90 miles north of home.

It's a pretty simple operation. You don your suit (and something on your feet -- Crocs for me, Aquasox for Todd), hand over your crisp 20, and "put in." Then you glide blissfully for two-plus hours...with absolutely nothing around but trees, blue sky, a few waterfowl, and a handful of other gliders.* And no technology!

Since you're pretty much guaranteed to take a couple of serious soakers (there are three sets of "rapids"), you can't take anything with you but the suit you're wearing and the life vest they give you...including a cell phone. Mon dieu! How will all of these people survive o-n-e h-u-n-d-r-e-d and t-h-i-r-t-y m-i-n-u-t-e-s without yapping into their droids and iPhones and not tapping out texts on their Crackberries?!

Somehow, miraculously albeit, all of those around us seemed to emerge from the water completely intact, despite this serious hardship.

I'm pasting a stock photo from the FRT website, since (get this) we couldn't take our digital cameras along for the ride! Definitely, this was a lot of fun and something we'll do again.

*The water level was pretty low, so apparently, it was particularly relaxing (and slow) on Saturday. And, despite record-breaking heat and humidity for several oppressive days in a row, there were a lot of people, but it never felt too crowded.

Happy Birthday America...and "Hello" Tour de France

Poor Hogan. He really does hate
fireworks. It's confirmed.

Todd and I enjoyed a lovely barbecue
and fireworks display at the Bunch
house in Woodbury on Saturday
(I brought the Caprese skewers,
mentioned in an earlier post and
pictured here) while Hogan stayed
home to "guard the house." The
nearest official fireworks were at
least 2 towns away, since Trumbull
and Shelton both had their fireworks
on Friday night.

That must mean the neighbors put on
some show! Here's how we know: a
massive clean-up effort ensued when
we returned from our lovely picnic. Enough said, you get the point.

And now...News from the Tour de France
Lance is wearing number 21 -- my lucky number. That'll keep me tuned in for three weeks! Keep away from those crazy crashers ol' boy! And show 'em that cancer can't stop anything. Vive la Lance!

Momma gotta job!

This woman is crazy! Sixty-eight years old and she's taken an entry-level psition in the prepared foods department at Wegman's in Erie!

-

She started on Tuesday this week, and she hasn't stopped chattering about it since! I told her that she should be blogging about her experience with the hopes of getting discovered and getting invited to Oprah, The Today Show and The View. ...or maybe a feature length film...

-

Danny Wegman, you'd better watch out. Mrs. Fischer (I think they've been calling her "Grandma" in the kitchen) is gunnin' for your slot. Give her a few more knife skills (her first day of training) and she'll make a mincemeat outta everyone between her and you!

-

Seriously, Mom, I'm really proud of you. It's the next closest thing to that gourmet restaurant that we always told you you should open. Knock their socks off...all the way to Rochester!

Happy Father's Day, Doctor Smith

Dear Doctor Stephan Smith (Cleveland Clinic Tausig Cancer Center):

You probably don't know me. We met only once...on a snowy day in January in Cleveland. You told me that the treatments were going well and that things were looking good. That same day, Dad received a hope quilt from a local church in Cleveland -- something they do as part of their outreach to cancer patients.


You don't know me, Dr. Smith. But I know you. And I know what you did for me and for all of us. You gave us precious, precious more time with a father, a husband, a grandfather, and an amazing person. This Father's Day was, perhaps, the best ever. And it's because of you.


Doctor Smith, I don't know if you're a father, and I suspect that you may not yet be. But today, I want to wish you a happy, happy Father's Day. And I want to thank you for giving us this one and many more to come.

Step Aside, Phil Liggett!

Click here to see my debut as a cycling color analyst on the Versus network with my new co-anchor, Paul Sherwen!

The rest of the day's photos are here:  Shutterfly Shared Picture Detail

My Newest Favorite Thing

I've been wanting to replicate a dish that I had at a new restaurant we tried in South Beach (Nemo, at 1st and Collins). But I was set back because I didn't know how to reduce balsamic --and really didn't want to learn, for that matter. Because I don't really cook.

Then, as I was poking my way through the little IGA in Trumbull Center, the waters parted, a ray of light streamed downward, and there it was: Blaze Balsamic Reduction in a bottle!!!

Next task was to assemble the dish, which was a play on Insalata Caprese, but instead of tomato and mozzarella, the ingredients were watermelon and feta cheese slices, alternating, over a bed of arugula and drizzled with balsamic reduction. mmm...

Of course, because of the early influences of Martha Stewart (she ruined me), I couldn't just "slice and stack" like they did in the restaurant. I had to invent my own presentation, after all.

One of my favorite appetizers is half a cherry tomato with a basil leaf and half a mini-mozzarella ball on a toothpick. So, I thought, why not try the same thing with the new ingredients? I cubed the watermelon and I cubed the feta. I had intended to skewer them with a leaf of arugula in between -- a one-for-one copy of their Caprese-skewered cousins -- except for one small problem: Have you ever tried to put feta on a toothpick? Impossible.

Now, there I sit with fifty watermelon cubes and an equal number of very fragile feta cubes. Then inspiration struck (thank you Martha)! I lightly (and I mean lightly...the cheese is fragile) tossed them together then served them over a bed of arugula with a drizzle of my new favorite condiment. Took this to a party and the hosts wouldn't let me take the leftovers home -- including my bottle of Blaze!

Pretty yummy for someone who doesn't cook.

REMISSION!!!

Last night, over a fabulous dinner at one of our favorite restaurants in South Beach (DeVito's), I looked at Todd and said, "It's been a long year." In the last 12 months, we've had so much bad news. Cancer, cancer, cancer. Blah, blah, blah. We both agreed, it's time to move forward.

So, earlier in the day, mom and dad called after a check-up at Cleveland Clinic. The word for the day: REMISSION! It's the best news we've had in over 12 months. The heart is good, the blood cancer is in control. Life is back on track. Theirs and ours!

We ordered an extra glass of wine and raised a glass: "L'chaim!" ...to life!

Hello Spring!

I took advantage of the gorgeous Spring day and decided to shoot some photos for my 121 Collection website (yes, I do all the photography myself). I set myself up under the magnolia tree that's in full and glorious bloom at the end of the driveway. It wasn't long before I had an audience, and I couldn't resist his cuteness, so I snapped a couple of quick ones. Here's the best of the bunch!

Happy, happy Spring!

Real Estate Post Script

I could claim that I was trying to be "retro" by posting my mid-80s era photo of the house. Yes, that's me, and yes, sadly, I think that's even a Members Only jacket. In reality, it's all I could find in the archives (there aren't any archives, just a few disheveled shoe boxes).

But after reading --and commenting on-- my post, Dad was kind enough to send a much more recent exterior shot. It's amazing how the place "matured" ... just like the rest of us!

The End of an Era

If you've been following these posts, you may think that this headline refers to the pre-mature demise of my beloved Orange. But this "era" has far deeper roots than the 2010 NCAA basketball season. This one goes way back...



On Friday, Mom and Dad closed on the sale of our childhood home after more than 40 wonderful years in the place. I was trying to think of a fitting way to pay tribute to our home, so I took a nod from Letterman and give you here:

"The Top Ten Best Things About 5295 Old Sterrettania Road."




Number 10: We were one of the best "playgrounds" for all the neighborhood kids. Whether we were riding bikes around the circular drive, skateboarding on one of the street's only paved driveways, or swimming in the 4 foot in-ground pool out back, all the neighborhood kids liked to hang out at our house.


Number 9: Easter Egg Hunts. I don't have too many memories of egg hunts as a kid, but once the grandchildren came along, Dad made a BIG deal about Easter egg hunts at our house. All the kids are old enough now, so I can let out his secret: About a week before Easter, he'd go shopping and get each kid a half-dozen or so gifts. Then he'd fill plastic eggs with random numbers. When the kids found an egg, they'd open it, and with great fanfare, he'd say, "Number 14! That's a Katie gift!" and he'd go to the Katie pile and produce gift number 14 (which was never really assigned a number). Each kid got exactly the gifts that he had purchased for them! I don't think the kids ever figured out his scheme!

Number 8: The Katie and Joe Trees...and the kids' handprints in the new cement driveway. Funny how the grandkids had their own special impact on the place... On Earth Day in the late 1990s, we planted two pine trees to fill in "holes" that were left in the row of blue spruces when we cut down Christmas trees in prior years (see Memory #3). We named those trees the Katie tree and the Joe tree. Maybe we thought that someday they'd make good Christmas trees, but we never cut them down. Maybe they'll be there forever.

Number 7: The Music Room...a.k.a. the "big room." There was always someone in the house when Mark and I got home from school. That's because mom had 30+ piano and/or organ students who'd come for their weekly lessons. Our family room was like the waiting room, so when we'd get home from school, there was always the next student or a parent waiting while we watched TV and did homework. The house was always filled with music, whether it was Mark playing classical toccatas on the organ, mom bangin' out Christmas tunes, or dad cranking the grind organ. And the big room, in later years, made a perfect Master Bedroom suite for those geezers who got tired of climbing the stairs!

Number 6: Ah, that fireplace. I learned to love a roaring fire because of that beautiful raised hearth fireplace. And how many times did we hear the story about the bricks?! Mom and Dad went to the brickyard to find the roughest, nastiest bricks they could. But when they paid a visit the day the masons were building it, they found that the bricklayers were trying to put the "prettiest" side of the bricks facing outward! Oops. If someone points it out, you can just about see the point where the rugged side of the bricks are turned forward. Oh! and on the topic of the fireplace...why did the field mice seem to hang out there? Ah! the joys of living in the country!

Number 5: Feeding the Birds. The Fischers love their birdfeeders! And it's Dad's job to get out there and feed the birds: rain, snow, sleet and hail!

Number 4: Christmas Cookies. Mom is famous for her many varieties of delicious holiday treats, whether it's a nut roll, pecan tarts, candy cane cookies, butterballs, or whatever. But the best memories are all the years of making --and then decorating -- sugar cookies. It's a day-long process that everyone gets to participate in. And the memories of those days are some of the sweetest!

Number 3: And speaking of Christmas...The gi-normous 14-foot Christmas trees. For many years, we had real trees that touched the cathedral ceiling in the big room. My fondest memories of childhood are about those trees-- whether it was the stress of getting them into the house and put up, decorating it (grandma Fischer at the top of the ladder with the fireplace tools), playing "I spy" with some of our favorite ornaments (Popeye, the Snoopy ladder, and later the Christmas pickle), or just sitting in the warm glow of the lights and smelling the fresh real tree. Those trees made the family gatherings even more special.

Number 2: Sitting on the porch...and later, the deck. We were so fortunate that the land across the street remained an open field for all those years. It was so relaxing to sit on the front porch and (quite literally) watch the world go by while you sipped a cold Pinot Grigio. So many people who came to visit would sit there with us and shoot the breeze. And if you broke your glass, don't worry, we make you feel right at home by slamming our own glasses down on the cement! And then in recent years, we moved the party to the new back deck. Now that was luxurious--like adding at least two more rooms onto the house! Great parties, great times, great memories.

And the Number 1 memory of that house... The countless extended "family" members that passed through over the course of time. Whether it was one of the seventeen (I honestly tried to count and list them all...maybe my math is wrong) exchange students --Edwin (Holland), Angie (Germany), Juha (Finland), Monica (Italy), Carrina (Sweden), and on and on... Or it was someone who needed a place to stay because they were going through a transition, a crisis, an illness, or a time in their life when they just needed a safe, comfortable place, the Fischer's always had their door open--literally, in fact. In addition to the exchange students, there had to be more than a dozen adults who stayed at 5295. For whatever reason, that house was a source of strength and courage for so many people who needed a respite from the world--either for a few nights, a few weeks, several months, and even a couple of years in some cases. There was always warmth and safety and love in those walls.




Mom and Dad moved into a lovely ranch-style condo that will be much easier for them to enjoy and maintain now that they're getting older. It's been hard for me to deal with this major transition, being so far removed geographically. I was talking with Mark just the other day and asked him, "Are you sad about Mom and Dad selling the house?" And he -- being the big brother and all -- wisely reminded me, "Carla, the house is just a building. All the memories will be with us forever."



So, fare thee well old building. We've packed our memories and will take them to a new and better place for now.

...and my one best friend

I love you like more than a sister (is that possible)! LGOO!

My 34,615 New Friends

I kept saying: "We need to go to Syracuse for a game!" How is it that we get so busy doing important things that we forget to do the things that really make us happy? So a few weeks back, I got out the calendar and picked the only home weekend game that made sense on my busy schedule: Feb. 27 vs. (then No. 2) Villanova.

It turns out that 34,615 other people had made the same decision. Matter of fact, we were collectively the LARGEST on-campus crowd ever to witness a regular season NCAA game. And what a game it was!

Reports of really, really bad weather started coming in as early as Monday last week. As Friday drew nearer, the snow predictions were as epic as the Carrier Dome attendance figure. I knew it would be rough, but like a die-hard fan and being of good Erie stock, I braved the blizzard and made the 300 mile trip. Indeed, we had 40-plus inches. Never seen anything quite like it.

My picture of the attendance figure on the scoreboard does nothing to adequately depict the sheer size of this very orange crowd. There were people sitting in the opposite end zone, for cryin' out loud! Amazing!! The Loud House was truly that that night. And what an amazing victory it was--especially because earlier in the day both No. 1 and No. 2 had fallen, plowing (appropriate for this weather event) a clear path to a No. 1 ranking for my beloved Orange! We'll just savor this one for a short while...

The weekend had so many things that really make me happy all in one place:

• Snow, snow and more snow (did I mention the snow?)
• My family
• A little bit of shopping
• My beloved alma mater
• New friends
• Old friends (they're not "old," they're from a long time ago)
• a few cocktails (including the new "Andy Rautins" Orange vodka and Red Bull)
• ...and a sweet, sweet victory
  
  

Why don't we do this more often? Snow included.