Somewhere Over the Wine-bow

We sat at the small table and picked up our menus, the awkwardness apparent but growing less dense as the minutes passed. I had given my brother Joe a $60.00 gift certificate to this small Italian restaurant for his 60th birthday. Being the frugal and fair man that he is, he refused to use it on himself and his wife, Janeard, unless Al and I went along—he felt that it was way too generous a gift, and would not accept no for an answer. We agreed to meet there on a Friday night when there was a live jazz guitar duo there, adding some evening ambiance to this otherwise bland little room that was actually the “restaurant side” of a pizzeria.

My brother and I have an odd history. Due to our sixteen-year age difference, and the fact that there were never any other children in between us that may have created some kind of bond, we were never particularly close. I’ve known Al for ten years, yet I can count the number of times that he and my brother have actually been in the same room together, let alone out to dinner. Over the course of his years, Joe seemed to drift away from our family and most of his friends. Where I am very forgiving almost to the point of being someone who is the equivalent of a throw rug, my brother tends to hold grudges in order to keep the wall around him impenetrable. Our differences are apparent in other areas as well: I have a varied taste in music; Joe basically can not understand why they even bothered to produce music after the early sixties. He does not understand the point of screaming a rock song or having a course called, “The History of Hip Hop” at our local university. I actually saw him cry for the first time the day Bobby Darren died.

…We won’t even get into the subject of movies. He's still reeling over the fact that they actually made "Mannequin 2."

Being that Al had to finish a job and was running late, we waited to order our meals until he showed up. Of course, we did not wait to order some wine. After tossing around whether we should buy a bottle of wine we had all never tried or just have a glass each of the house wine, we opted for the latter. This particular merlot was a fine choice for the three of us, being that we’re all lightweights when it comes to drinking alcohol. We sipped and chatted, and the minutes that passed seemed to take away any tense feelings that were present, turning them into fond sentiments full of shared memories and silly laughter. I do admit; it felt good to laugh like that with them. I truly began to wonder why it was that we hardly ever got together.

Al arrived, looking as handsome as ever, and ordered his usual Grey Goose martini with three olives. Joe laughed at him, openly wondering how Al could possibly handle drinking that “rocket fuel;” my brother admitted that he would be passed out under the table if he imbibed in one of those. With a few sips, Al caught up to our level of giddiness, and we all engaged in conversations ranging from “Casablanca” to the “most beautiful, perfect head of broccoli” that my brother ever saw in his life at a local farm stand.

After their break, the musicians noticed our lively, little table and upon their return, came over to inquire if we had any requests. Of course, Joe asked for “anything by Frank Sinatra,” and I requested their wedding song, “Happy,” by Bobby Darin. The lead guitarist told me that he wasn’t sure if he had ever heard of that song, but he promised he’d try to look for it in his song book. Joe told him that he probably wouldn’t find it, but that he’d be happy if he just played some classics. They went back to their guitars, and continued to play some wonderful, old standards that fit the atmosphere perfectly.

In the meantime, we were served our sumptuous dishes. We continued to eat, drink and chat as the music played on in the background. I’m not sure what it was that caught my attention, but as I took a break from talking, I noticed that the lead guitarist was softly playing “The Christmas Song.” I leaned over and looked at him, and he winked and smiled as if he knew I got the joke. Never one to keep my mouth shut and just let things be, I shouted out, “Hey!! You’re playing Christmas music!!” Al looked at me in bewilderment and snorted, “Are you crazy? Have another drink! They’re playing, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow!! How can you not know what they’re playing? You just made me watch that stupid Meg Ryan movie for the hundredth time last week, and they play it at the end of the movie!! Every time!!!” Chuckling, Joe and Janeard chimed in that yes, it was indeed “Over the Rainbow” and maybe we all had had a little too much to drink. I stopped to listen for a minute…and I immediately felt embarrassed. My goodness—they were indeed playing “Over the Rainbow.” I looked around to see how many other tables were filled with people who may have heard my drunken outburst, and I meekly uttered an “oops,” followed by, “Wow, this pasta dish is delicious!”

…”How about those Yankees?” probably would’ve worked better. I started to feel that the cobwebs were really taking over my middle-aged brain.

Recovering from the Christmas blunder, I decided to continue enjoying myself and my family. We had such a good time, we didn’t realize that the whole restaurant had cleared itself, and we were the last ones there. We got the check, and my brother opted for a quick bathroom visit. As we sat at the table to wait for him, the jazz duo packed up their guitars and headed in our direction toward the front door. They came over to us and apologized for not being able to find the song I had requested. We assured them that it was fine, and that their selections were just as enjoyable. With that, the lead guitarist looked at me and laughed, “I can’t believe you caught on that I was playing “The Christmas Song!” The rhythm man chimed in that he couldn’t believe it either—that they do this on occasion just to see if anyone is actually paying attention.

SCORE!! I excitedly jumped up from my seat to give them both a high five. “I knew I wasn’t crazy!!” I exclaimed. I turned to Al, who looked both surprised and relieved at the same time; surprised because he really didn’t hear it, and relieved that his wife was, indeed, not suffering from dementia. When Joe came back, he laughed with us as well and also seemed thankful that his sister was not just another loud-mouthed, drunken fool who’s inclined to random outbursts of nonsense. Actually, being a musician himself, I think he was actually disappointed that he didn’t hear that sneaky riff as well! As strange as it sounds, I really was relieved myself. There is something quite unnerving about being so certain of something, beyond the shadow of a doubt, and having everyone tell you otherwise. You can tend to feel a bit crazy.

One thing I am certain of is that I will have to do this again with them soon. Life is really too short to not get together with the ones you love!

The Hero That Brought Our Family Together

Stepfamilies are a unique bunch. Depending on the circumstances, the union of a man and a woman who each have children of their own can be wonderful, mediocre or downright disheartening. My husband and I were very fortunate to have kids who not only get along, but have a genuine love for each other, even though they don’t share the same genes. This is a true blessing, and we consider ourselves very, very lucky.

With times being what they are, however, my husband and I were finding that we weren’t seeing all that much of the kids. Which is actually kind of funny, because most days, the three younger ones are here at the house—my stepdaughter downstairs in her room on her computer, my daughter upstairs on her computer, and my son outside riding bikes with his friends and popping in to raid the refrigerator every half-hour or so. I would love to say that I have the time to take my daughters somewhere every afternoon so that they’re not holed up staring at their monitors, but the sad truth is that I’m really busy. I leave my very active job and pick up my kids from school…and that’s when the second half of my day begins. By the time I finish picking up my kids (one at 2:30, one at 3:10, the other at 4:00 because he has track), running errands (supermarket, post office, bank, etc.), taking them to work, doctor and dentist appointments, supply shopping—you name it—I don’t usually get to start dinner until after 5:00. That’s when the third half (okay, the third third) of my day starts…eating, cleaning up from dinner, perhaps squeezing in a walk, a yoga class or the gym, showering…I don’t have time left over to do much of anything other than collapse into bed.

About two months ago, my husband and I decided that we really needed one night a week where all six of us sat down at a table together and ate dinner, instead of the two, three, or—if we were lucky—four people that usually showed up. We picked a pizzeria in a town close by, and now on Thursdays we all gather and catch up with one another. Since we realized how much we enjoy each other’s company, this has turned into quite the event, especially for the pizzeria owners. They told us that they look forward to our visits (and our antics) every single week! Around Christmas time, we decided to take a family portrait which consisted of the red checker table cloth for a background, and each member’s head atop a different condiment—garlic powder, salt, pepper, cheese, etc.—the owners admired the fun we were having so much that they requested a copy for themselves!

Yes, Thursdays are fun, but there’s still the empty hole that’s left between Friday and Wednesday. Enter “Guitar Hero”. If you’re not familiar with this video game for Playstation 2, let me introduce you. “Guitar Hero” is a game that consists of a mini-guitar (we have two), a disc, and a TV screen. Along the lines of “Dance Dance Revolution”, one has to press the chords (five different colored frets at the neck of the handheld guitar) to famous rock songs as the corresponding color comes down a little “runway” (or guitar neck) on the screen. Here is the history of the game in our family:

Last Christmas, my daughter requested this game from “Santa”. She received it, only to realize afterward that we no longer had “Playstation 2” because it had broken (it helps to note here that my children’s dad gives them his “hand-me-down” game systems…hence the reason that I wasn’t even aware that we didn’t have “Playstation 2” anymore, because they basically had every other game system, so no one ever informed me). A year went by, and “Guitar Hero” sat in my daughter’s very messy closet, totally untouched…perhaps waiting for the day that we relented and spent the $110.00 to buy a used “Playstation 2” so it could finally be used.

On Christmas Eve of 2006, we went to my cousin’s house for the festivities. During the course of the night, my son went into the basement to play video games, and came across “Guitar Hero”. That was it. One game, and he was hooked! After Christmas, he took all of his gift cards and gift money, and went to the game store to buy a used “Playstation 2” so that he could use his sister’s “Guitar Hero” that’s been gathering dust in her closet for the last 12 months. That was December 26th, and he hasn’t put the game down yet (except for his daily visits to school…and he’s actually playing “Freebird” as I write this)!


Before we knew it, “Guitar Hero” had become somewhat of a phenomenon amongst the four kids. Where there used to be the silent clicking of computer keys, there was now the blaring electric strains of Guns N Roses, Boston, and various other artists followed by the screams, moans and belly laughter belonging to none other than—you guessed it—our kids! Most of them skipped over the “easy” and “medium” level, and made it to the “hard” level within a week. My son and daughter took it one step further and didn’t quit until they made “expert”—quite a feat for only having the game for a week! Oh, and did I mention that my husband and I have gotten in on the action as well? Not only do we play with our kids, but just the other night we battled guitars to Cheap Trick’s “Surrender”. Nothing like a little healthy competition between a couple to spice things up…especially when I win!


Okay, I know. I’m exuberant over a video game. Yes, I realize that it may seem like I've finally fallen off the deep end...after all, I am in my 40's. I'm supposed to hate video games and blame the demise of our country on them and MTV. And although there may be some valid reasoning to that, all I can defend myself with is that there is no sound sweeter in this world to me than the hysterical laughter of my four kids, especially when it’s in perfect harmony in my living room. A heroic feat by any means!