pepsi, ketchup & swapping flags

My father passed away when I was just two years old.  Melvin Mankin was only 29 when he died.  Mom & her two sons carried on without him.  Mom remarried years later, and my brother Phil came along after that.  We had occasional contact with the Mankin side of the family, but they were all in Brooklyn, New York, and we were at the New Jersey shore town of Lakewood.  I knew of my cousin Barbara, and that I had some aunts and an Uncle on the Mankin side, but I rarely saw them, and never really knew who was who on my father’s side.

At one point in my youth, I asked my mother the Mankin’s country of origin.  I knew my mother’s family came to Ellis Island from Lithuania.  She told me that the Mankins were Polish.  Honestly, it was so long ago, I’m not sure if she professed to know for sure, or that she merely assumed their Polish heritage, but she definitely told me that I was half Polish.

A few months ago, I received a voice message from Meryl Turco.  Merly is my cousin –a 1^st cousin on my father’s side!  She is my Aunt Marion’s daughter.  I called her back and we spoke for over an hour.  I had made the presumption that there was no one on the planet who knew my father and could tell me about him.  I have so many unanswered questions regarding my dad.  Suddenly, I had a resource!  She is more than a dozen years older than me, and remembers my father vividly.  He much preferred Pepsi over Coke – me too.  He was a ketchup fiend – me too.  He loved to tinker with things – me too.

A few months had passed, and I received a phone call from my cousin Barbara – my Aunt Ruth’s daughter.   She was putting together a Mankin cousins reunion.  This reunion was held this past weekend, and my family and I drove to New Jersey to meet and spend time with newly rediscovered family.  I know so much more about the Mankins now.  Here’s one – we are NOT Polish.  We are Romanian!  My great-grandmother, Rebecca Goldstein, came to the US from Bucharest in 1888.

My kids have the last name of Mankin.  We now have some stories to share with them about their heritage.  Romania – I think I’ll go listen to some Enesco.  I just may hear something I’ve never heard before.

a mountain climbed in but a year

We took both kids to the doctor’s office today.  It was time for their annual well visit.  We have had the same pediatrician for all of Peter’s years, and most of Emma’s,  She is terrific, and we count ourselves as fortunate to be under her expert care.  Her keen senses lead to identifying & addressing Peter’s PDD-NOS issues extremely early.  She sees Peter once a year, unless he is sick.  We have been very healthy for a few years now, so she rarely sees Emma and Peter.

Emma’s visit was routine – zero issues.  Maturely handled by our 10 year old.

In previous years, Peter either screamed endlessly, or sat unwillingly and mute.  Weighing Peter has been a physician’s assistant’s nightmare.  Measuring his height had to be an estimated value, since he would not hold still for an instant. Taking his temperature traditionally took one parent to apply a full-body lock on him while the other tried to calm him verbally.  The doctor had to work quickly & stealthily as to not let Peter know he was actually being examined.

Today’s appointment (6 year old Peter) went like this:

• Checked in and sat in the waiting room – quietly.
• We were led to an examination room, where body temperature was measured with an ear thermometer.  Peter sat still and did not flinch.
• Blood pressure was read with a traditional squeeze-bulb sphygmomanometer and stethoscope. Peter sat still and did not flinch.
• Peter stood perfectly still on the scale so an accurate weight measurement was possible.
• Peter stood still against the measuring stick, allowing for (likely) his 1st accurate height measurement ever.
• Peter replied appropriately when his hearing test was performed.
• For his vision test, Peter stood still and read the letters back to the Physician’s Assistant.  He covered the appropriate eye when asked.
• The doctor asked Peter questions.  He answered in clear, plain English.  When instructed to take a big breath, he did so.

Our doctor was (I believe) a bit taken back at how dramatically he has progressed in the past 12 months.  She was clearly impressed.  We were as well.

After the doctor finished, she indicated to Kathy & me that both kids would need one shot each.  Uh-oh – this could be the end of what was (so far) an amazing well visit.  Emma is a pro by now, and knows that the worst part of any injection is worrying & bracing for it.  They are over in one second.  Bang – done.  How to handle Peter…

Dad: “Peter, you were great at the doctor’s office today.  We’re so proud of you.  There’s one more fast thing, though.  You need to get a quick pinch on your arm before we go.  It’s really fast.  Do you want the slow one or the really fast one?”

Peter: “Fast one, dad.”

The nurse entered the room with the pre-loaded hypodermic.

Dad: “Peter, tell the nurse which you want – the slow one or the really fast one.”

Peter: “The fast one.”

Dad: “OK then – If you’re a big boy for your arm pinch – no crying – we’ll go to Starbucks for a scone.  OK?”

Peter: “OK”

Bang – Done

Starbucks

highway phonics

All kids learn to read at their own pace.  There’s probably no way to speed or slow down the process.  Like potty training, they do it when they’re ready.  Period.

I remember the day that we realized Emma could read.  We were stopped at a red light.  Emma said over & over, “Ge-Tie”.  It took a few minutes, but we realized we were right behind a Volkswagen GTI.

Today, we were pulling out of our parking space at the grocery store.  Peter pointed ahead and told us to look at the Jeep.  Jeep, huh?  We don’t know anyone who owns a Jeep.  We have no Jeep toys. There are no Jeep advertisements on TV that he may have seen.  There was, however, a huge Jeep logo on the rear-mounted spare tire.  JEEP.  I asked him who we know with a Jeep.  He said. “No one”.  I asked him how he knew it was a Jeep.  He told me,  “It said Jeep, Dad”.

I’m looking out for a Maserati now!

espresso – probably not what you thought

I had an ill-conceived notion for years that ‘espresso beans’ were dark & oily (and nasty), and that espresso was a black, sludgy loose  puddle of nastiness that one drank because it made them appear more ‘Continental‘.

Wrong, wrong & wrong!

Espresso is a coffee grind (extremely fine, but not as fine as a Turkish grind) and a method of production which requires precise heat & pressure.  One can make great espresso with a light, medium, dark, oily or non-oily batch of roasted coffee, but your beans better be SUPER fresh if you want it to be good.  Fresh means roasted less than 2 weeks ago.  Period.  Don’t think that bag of expensive coffee beans you buy at Starbucks is fresh… it likely is not, but you sure paid a lot for it!  Find a local coffee house that roasts.  The difference truly fresh coffee makes in the cup is astounding.  Try it once – you’ll never go back.

Here is an excellent double shot of espresso that I made this morning.  The coffee was roasted 5 days ago, and was roasted dark, but not at all oily.  The texture is not thin… not even close.  It is rather like warm honey as it pours.  Intense, but not bitter.  A truly delightful way to start my day.

pulling ’spro

Here’s a time-lapse of a sweet 30 second espresso shot pulled on my Bunn ES-1A.  3 days post roasting – Burundi coffee. Delightful!

undercover dinner

Peter has always had a very narrow diet.  There are a few staple foods he would always eat, but so many that he should, and simply would not.  In recent months, Peter has added to his ‘repertoire’, and will even ask for items such as a hot dog or a chicken sandwich.

Last evening, Peter asked for a chicken sandwich for dinner.  It was prepared as always, and cut up into six wedges.  In keeping with his wily mood, he looked at the sandwich a few times, but ran away from the dining room table, laughing & being rather defiant.  Nothing new for this little guy, but he did something different this time.  On a return trip from the kitchen to see if Peter had finally started to eat his dinner, I discovered that his sandwich… and the plate on which it sat were gone.  A quick inspection of the dining room & living area uncovered the sandwich and plate… hiding under a blanket on the living room sofa!

Moral:  You can lead a horse to water, but he may hide the river in his stable if he’s feeling goofy.

attention span expanding

It was only a few months ago that we last tried to take Peter to a movie theater.  Each time, with high hopes yet great trepidation, we left the theater early, or spent the time walking Peter around the lobby, or playing musical theater chairs.  Yesterday, something clicked… a LOUD click.  We went to the theater to see “Alvin & the Chipmunks“.  Peter knows the movie from our DVD copy, but he sat in his theater seat & watched, recited funny lines with the chipmunks, and genuinely had a great time.  I can’t wait to take him to more movies.

Lights… camera… ACTION!

musical mystery solved

A while ago, I blogged about two pieces of memorabilia I own; a Hank Aaron autographed baseball, and a baton that was used by Arturo Toscanini.  The baseball was bought in a card shop while I was on a concert tour of the South – no big mystery there.  The baton, however, was left to me by my musical mentor, Engelbert Brenner.  Brenner played 2nd oboe in the NYPO during Toscanini’s reign.  This rare piece of classical music history has a hand written date on the shaft: November 24th, 1932.

Recently, the New York Philharmonic has made an extensive, searchable database available to the public on their web site.  I have long wondered what pieces Maestro Toscanini conducted with MY baton.  I now know!

Bruckner Symphony No. 4 in E-flat major

Intermission

Viotti Concerto No. 22 in A minor for Violin and Orchestra
Beethoven Leonore Overture No. 3, Op. 72b

Bruckner 4 under Toscanini…. WOW!

blueberries!

Last fall, I took the kids raspberry picking.  They had such a blast, we went apple picking a few weeks later.  Since they continued to talk about it all winter long, we have been waiting in the wings for mother nature to bring forth more pick-your-own crops.  Strawberries were in season a few weeks ago, so we all squished our way through the rain-soaked strawberry fields.  Yesterday was prime blueberry picking season, so off we went to the farm once again.  The blueberries were huge, and the ones allowed to reach full ripeness on the bush are amazingly sweet.

This morning we had blueberry pancakes for breakfast, Emma & Kathy baked banana blueberry bread, and the rest of the harvest was packed into a fabulous blueberry pie!  Blackberries are right around the corner… we’ll be there!

confidence

I attended our annual IEP (Individualized Education Plan) for Peter on Tuesday.  It was an excellent meeting between teachers, principal, specialists & parents. Peter’s progress is noticeable in every aspect of his school presence.  Rather than wait through the summer break, it was decided to let Peter spend more of his day in his mainstream kindergarten classroom for the remainder of this school year (under 3 weeks).  I was nervous about this decision, even though it is exactly what I was hoping would come out of this IEP.  I’m sure the school staff was just as nervous, but it was time to let Peter flourish deeper into new places & things.

Two days have now passed since this meeting.  On his first day post-IEP, Peter spent triple the amount of time in his kindergarten classroom, and yesterday it was quadrupled.  Peter proudly jumped off the school bus both afternoons  and gleefully told me that he had a great day.  Last night we ran to the mall to pick up a few items.  Peter walked next to me without holding hands very often, and I even caught him walking smartly with his hands in his hip pockets.  I’ve never seen this posturing before, and I have never seem him negotiate the world with such confidence.

It’s only been 2 days – and I know not every day will be perfect & strong, and there may even be days that I wish we hadn’t pushed him… but maybe not!

My pride in Peter & his newly found confidence is staggering.  My true hero doesn’t wear a baseball uniform or appear on TV or in the movies – he walks with his hands in his pockets by himself in the mall.