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Baloney Sandwiches Posts

Memorial Day

Yesterday when driving back from fishing, burnt the hell up from the sun, and fishless, I drove past a huge cemetery. The cemetery was overcrowded with grave stones, big, small, fancy and plain. You could tell someone spent thousands of dollars on some of them, probably dipping into their savings. Others were modest – some were so small the names of the deceased could barely fit onto them. It reminded me of when you buy a really small birthday cake for a loved one and they have a long name like my daughter, and the cake decorator has a hard time fitting the name plus happy birthday on the cake. Some of the grave stones were so close to each other it appeared the bodies had to be overlapping in their caskets underground. I wondered how so many dead bodies managed to accumulate in such a small, quiet town and fill such a huge cemetery leaving it overflowing from one…

Survival

It was a wet, dreary, and chilly day in Columbus, Ohio, on October 7, 1987 – cold enough for a sweater, but not quite cold enough for a winter coat. I was 20 years old at the time, and my baby girl was turning two years old today.  I wanted to go pick up a birthday cake from Resch’s, my favorite bakery on Livingston Avenue, and my mother wanted to go shopping to buy her a present. We discussed where we would go first, and I reluctantly agreed to head to Schottensteins.  I hated Schottensteins with a passion. As a child my mother would take my sister and I to Schottesteins for school clothes. All I ever remember about this place was that it was always full of rude women desperately rummaging through piles and racks of disorganized clothing that resembled hand-me downs. searching for a deal. The carpet was stained, and you could always spot whining babies suckling Kool-Aid…